CHAPTER EIGHT
He descended upon me with his fists and his feet. I couldn’t get away, no matter how I tried. The pain he was inflicting was unbearable. Assaulting me was the ultimate humiliation, and when the faceless woman who appeared towards the end of my torture raised the gun and shot me, I fell into blissful darkness, glad to get away from the horror.
My eyes flew open, and the beeping surrounding me grew incessant and noisy. I wanted to scream for it to stop, but I was immobile. My lips refused to work because there was something down my throat preventing me from opening my mouth, which was sore and bone dry. The smell of antiseptic made me want to hurl.
Not knowing where I was, as I came out of my nightmare. For surely it was a nightmare? It couldn’t have been real. Could it? My anxiety intensified as I struggled to remove the object in my mouth, hindering my ability to talk.
“Poppet, it’s alright. You’re safe.” A deep, familiar voice crooned, and I tried to regulate my breathing. Only one man ever called me poppet. Even now, at twenty-eight; and that was my father. He would adopt his proper English accent during stressful situations, even though he had been living in the States for years. He stubbornly held onto it.
The sound of other voices made me feel less calm, and my anxiety escalated, resulting in a full-blown panic attack. Then finally blessed relief and complete darkness descended yet again.
***
I tentatively open my eyes, feeling groggy and so out of it as I slowly look at my surroundings. The beeping of machines tells me I’m in a hospital, and the smell of antiseptic is prevalent. I can’t help the frown that mars my face. There’s a sudden flurry of activity around me, lights flash in my eyes and I flinch away from it. I had no idea what was going on around me.
“Hello there, Mrs Thatcher. It’s good to see you awake,” an unfamiliar voice spoke. I was totally freaking out, flinching at the sound of my married name on the lips of the woman who I now realize is a nurse. I couldn’t remember all the details of my attack, but I knew Caleb was still out there, I knew he was going to finish the job once he discovered I survived. I was sure of it.
“Baby girl, please calm down. The doctor just wants to check you out to make sure you’re okay.” A deep, familiar voice cooed in my ear, and a sob escaped when I recognized it as my father.
“I’m Doctor Murphy.” Another, this time, male voice spoke, and I finally opened my eyes, focusing on him and his white lab coat. He was older than my father and had kind brown eyes.
I stopped flailing long enough for the doctor to remove the tube from my mouth. As the pain in my body intensified, I couldn’t stop the whimper from escaping as a flood of memories of what had happened assailed me. Caleb and what he had done to me. He had beaten me to a bloody pulp, then raped me; and I could do nothing to stop him. A pained whimper escaped at the thought that the man I thought loved me could do something so heinous to the woman he promised to love, honor and protect. What a crock of shit.
There was a bandage covering my belly, I opened my mouth to ask, but my voice came out raspy, and my throat was sore.
Quick as a flash, my father was there, holding a small plastic cup to my lips with a straw, and I took a long, grateful sip, letting the cool liquid soothe my battered throat.
“Thanks, daddy.” I whisper. He rewarded me with a bright beaming smile, and gently took me in his arms, being careful of all the wires, enfolding me in a tight hug.
“I thought I’d lost you,” he replies gruffly in my neck, and tears streamed down my face.
“As you can see, I’m still here.” I reply, trying to make light of the situation, but failing miserably.
“No thanks to that arsehole who did this to you.” My father growled under his breath, and I gasp in shock.
“Did they catch him?” I ask. Terror filling my face.
“Yeah baby, he’s in jail. I could’ve killed him with my bare hands when they told me what he’d done to you.” He placed the cup of water back on the nightstand by the bed and turned to look at me again. “I’ve been trying to contact Caleb, but he’s not answering his phone. It’s like he’s dropped off the face of the earth.”
Wait! What? My dad saying my husband”s name freezes me solid. I thought he said they had taken Caleb into custody?
My dad sees the puzzled expression on my face and lovingly touches my cheek, giving me a quick kiss on the forehead. “I’m sure he’d be here if he could, darling.”
“B-Bodie?” I question, my throat still feeling croaky, and watch with a feeling of dread as my father’s face turns into a look of anger and disgust. Why, I don’t understand.
“Do not speak that low life’s name. He’s locked up where he belongs. With the other animals for what he did to you.”
I was so confused, and my head was swimming with many unanswered questions I couldn’t form around my voice. But I was so tired; I needed to sleep. Just a little, and then I’ll get my answers.
When next I awoke, I was alone, with just the sound of the machines beeping around me, and a nurse inputting data into what I assumed was my file. I wondered where my father was, and it was as if just the thought of him conjured him up as he appeared in the doorway, a to go cup of coffee in his hand. His face transformed from tired to a huge smile when he saw I was awake.
“There’s my angel,” he spoke, his voice raspy, as if he’d smoked an entire pack of cigarettes.
The nurse smiled at him, and batted her eyelashes, I would’ve rolled my eyes if the action didn’t cause severe pain in my head, making me wince.
“Are you okay?” my father asks worriedly, coming to sit by my bed.
“I’ve been better.” I mutter, my hand rising to my forehead to move a non-existent lock of hair out of my face. That’s when I felt it. Frowning, I touch my head gently, only feeling a dressing wrapped around it. My father looked at me with sadness in his eyes.
“They had to shave your head, sweetheart. They needed to relieve the building pressure in your brain.”
I looked at him blankly, letting his words sink in. They cut off my hair? I know it was stupid to feel sadness over the fact that what I felt was my best feature was now gone. Granted, I’ve kept my hair shorter for a long time now, as opposed to the long locks I had since I was a young girl. But the thought of being now completely bald under the dressing was upsetting as I swallowed the lump that threatened to draw me deep into a black hole. No! I needed to think positively about my situation. At least I was alive. Completely broken. But alive.
“What happened, Daddy?” I ask softly, as the man who had raised me looked into my eyes with sadness emanating from his. He took my hands in his and smiled softly, trying to cover the ticking of his jaw, that told me he was fighting to keep the anger at bay. He looked like he was having difficulty getting the words past his lips.
“That bastard assaulted you.” He faltered, finding it hard to go on.
“Caleb did this.” I reply on a whimper. His hand tightening around mine, almost painfully. “So then, why wasn’t he arrested?” I ask, almost in a whisper.
I felt my father’s body stiffen, and he tightened his hand on mine almost to the point of pain.
“No, that arsehole Chains did it,” he spits out.
If the whole situation wasn’t so tragic, I would’ve burst out laughing. The very thought that Chains was the one who did this was almost laughable. He was many things, but an abuser of women he was not.
I shake my head, running headlong in the defence of the man who, once upon a time, was my everything. Even now, after so many years of being apart.
“No, Daddy, you’re wrong. It was Caleb. He was the one who attacked me.” You could cut the tension with a knife, and it was a few moments before my father could speak after the shock wore off.
“Are you sure?” he barks, appearing as if someone had hit him.
I nod. “He hit me in the head, but I remember clearly who did this to me. And it wasn’t Bodie. How long have I been out of it?” I ask. Lying back against the pillows, feeling wiped out.
“You’ve been in a coma for a couple months, sweetheart. Because you had a hematoma pressing on your brain,” he replies softly, but the look in his eyes promises retribution.
I stare back at him, speechless. A couple months? It’s a shock to realize that I’ve been out of it for that long.
I look around, wanting to ask the question on the tip of my tongue, but afraid to. I’m certain my father knows what it is when his jaw hardens, but he forces a smile.
“Lexie was here. She only just left because I told her to get some rest. She’s the only one of the DCMC Briar Creek chapter left here in Dallas, the rest had to return a few weeks ago. Kon was here as well. Come to think of it, it felt like he was hiding something from me when I asked about Chains. He’s locked up, you know. Everyone believes he did this.”
I gasp in shock. The police had Chains locked up for the last few months, all because they think he was the one who hurt me? I can’t imagine what he’s feeling right now, and how much he must hate me.
“I need to tell the police the truth. Bodie has been in jail months longer than he should’ve been.” I cry out. “And since Caleb can’t be located, he”s out there somewhere, probably just waiting to strike against me again.” I try to keep my voice level, but it’s hard to do when fear directs everything I feel right now. A look of determination takes over my father’s handsome face.
“I knew something wasn’t right when not once had Caleb come by to see you. In fact, no one’s seen him since they brought you in. I just never in a million years would have thought it was him that did this to you. Why didn’t you tell me what he was doing to you all these years?” my father demands.
“He threatened everyone I cared about. Please, Daddy, don’t get involved. Caleb is a very dangerous man.” I implore.
“That’s why I never told anyone what he did to me. He would always leave bruises in places you couldn’t see them.” It was humiliating to admit, but it had to be done. I wouldn’t protect him anymore. I was in a relationship with a man who supposedly loved me but would brutally beat me at every opportunity.
“I’m going to find the bastard if it’s the last thing I do. He’s going to pay for ever touching you.” My father tells me, determination on his face, as he retrieves his phone from the pocket of his jeans, typing a quick message, and returns it to his pocket.
“He never hit me this bad before.” I’m still making excuses for the man, and I bite down on my tongue. “At least not to leave visible marks.”
My father looks at me as though I had lost my mind, and maybe I had if I was making excuses for the man I thought I loved, who had turned into a monster.
“Oh, well, of course, since he only slapped you around a bit before. That’s different.” The sarcasm in my father’s voice was unmistakable, and I opened my mouth to give him a serve when suddenly the doctor from earlier walked back into the room.
“Mrs Thatcher.” He begins, and I lift my hand that didn’t have the cannula attached to it, before he continues.
I shake my head, more vigorously than I’d thought as I felt a sharp pain.
“No, not Mrs Thatcher, Zoe is fine.” I refuse to be known as his wife any longer. The attack may still be fuzzy, especially who shot me. But I know it was Caleb that did it. I was sure of it.
The elderly doctor looked surprised, but then covered it with a warm smile. “As you wish, Zoe.” he replies. “How are you feeling?”
“Like a truck has hit me.” I reply, trying to make light of my situation. Which, by the look on my father’s and the doctor’s faces, went down like a lead balloon.
“Are you up for a chat? I’d like to talk to you about your injuries,” the doctor says, pulling up a chair and making himself comfortable. Obviously, he’s determined to dredge up everything that happened to me at the hands of my husband, even though I just want to bury my head in the sand and to forget about everything he did to me.
“If I have to.” I reply, letting him know I wasn’t really in the mood. But for the next half an hour, I sit passively through the laundry list of injuries Caleb left me with. I suffered a broken right arm, broken wrist, broken left leg, and a gun-shot wound to the abdomen, fortunately not affecting my ability to have children later on.. They repaired the damage, but had to remove my spleen.
The whole time my father held tightly onto my hand, and I knew if he wasn’t there, I wouldn’t have been able to face all this alone. After every detail the doctor imparted, I suddenly felt so tired.
“I think that’s enough for now, doctor.” I heard my father tell the older man.
“I’m so tired.” I mumble, my eyes already closing, cutting short anymore talk about my husband and what happened to me.
Once the doctor releases me from the hospital, I was determined to make Caleb my ex-husband by getting the ball rolling on the divorce I had been planning for a long time, being too scared of the man and his threats to follow through with it any earlier.
“Rest.” I hear my father’s voice, and feel safe knowing that he’s here with me as I doze off.