CHAPTER 31 | Abby
Beeping machines and the constant inflating and deflating of the blood pressure cuff are getting annoying. They keep me from sleeping, not that sleeping is very comfortable right now anyway. Not to mention, a nurse or Dallas has to wake me up every three hours to make sure I wake up due to the head trauma. As much as the pain meds are trying to help with everything, I can still feel the throbbing and slight twinge of pain every time I move. To top it all off, my ribs hurt so even breathing is a literal pain.
I look at the chair beside my bed and see Dallas hasn’t moved. He’s dozed off now that it’s been a few hours since we’ve arrived. His head is slumped against the back of the chair. One arm lies across his brow bone, the other hand still tangled in mine. Today has been such a whirlwind of emotions that I’ve barely taken time to process what happened. Two officers came in shortly after all the nurses left but I told them to get out. They’d wanted details. Even things that seemed unnecessary like what I’d eaten for breakfast. It’s bad enough getting beaten half to death, but then being asked to relive it, to tell the story all over again within an hour just seemed cruel.
The white blanket that once covered my toes has drifted up from all my twisting and turning in bed and now my toes lie bare to the cool hospital air. Alarms sound when I tug on the blanket and the heart rate monitor attached to my finger falls off. Dallas jolts awake in his chair and is by my side in seconds.
“What’s going on? What do you need?” he asks frantically, worry in his eyes.
My voice is still a bit horse, and it scratches with every word. “I’m fine. I was trying to get the blanket back on my feet, but the finger monitor thing fell off.”
“Let me help you.” He grabs the bottom of the blanket and pulls it down, tucking it tightly under my feet. “How’s that?”
“Good. Can you help me find the finger thing? I think it fell on the floor over here,” I say, pointing to the cord. “Thanks. Did you get some sleep?” I ask, hoping he says yes. He refuses to leave.
“A little. Did you?” He returns to his seat, pulls it close to the bed, and offers me his hand. His warm skin is inviting.
“Meh. My head still hurts a bit. It’s making it difficult to get comfortable.” A pain in his eyes has me watching him closely, but then I realize that pain is anger. “What’s wrong?” I ask though I’m sure I know the answer.
He sighs, rubbing soft circles on the back of my hand with his thumb. It feels good, numbing almost, from the repetition. “I’m so mad, Abby. At Sam for doing this to you. At myself for not being there to protect you. At the universe for allowing this to happen. I mean really, who gets off on this shit?” Silence settles between us as we both lament the day’s happenings. “You’ll press charges, right?” he asks suddenly.
“They’re going to press charges no matter what,” I say, but I know that’s not what he wants to hear.
“You know what I mean.” He stares at me intensely, but it’s not intimidation. It’s sorrow.
“I don’t know.” I pause. “I don’t want to give him another reason to find me. And I know he would. I don’t know how he does it, but it terrifies me.” Tears spill down my cheeks. I don’t speak for a long moment. Dallas gives me the time to process as I cry. We hold hands while the emotions flood in. “What did I do wrong?” I ask in a shaky voice.
“Woah, hey,” he starts. “You’ve done nothing wrong. Absolutely nothing. You didn’t deserve this.” Dallas hugs me gently, but tightly, running his fingers through my tangled hair, attempting to soothe my nerves.
My body tightens as the knot in my throat grows. My breathing quickens with each passing second. I suck in a sharp breath when my lungs demand more air, but it comes in short bursts. I squeeze Dallas’s hand, frantically searching for something, anything, to latch onto, to ground me. Dallas’s shoulder quickly turns into wet fabric with each tear I shed, but he doesn’t pull away until I do.
“I’m right here. I’ve got you. I’ll never let this happen again,” he whispers repeatedly. “You’re safe.” He kisses the top of my hand delicately as if touching me any harder might break me even further.
Minutes pass as we let the emotions run high. I haven’t let myself cry since getting here. Not for the sake of trying to be strong, but for the sake of not wanting to admit how bad it was, how bad it is. Somehow, crying makes it more real. I can’t ignore what happened if the emotions fully materialize. I don’t want to concede to this.
I’ve never seen this side of Dallas before, this sadness, but it’s laced with heartbreak and anger. His face is contorted as he looks me over, focused on the bruising and cords fastened to my arms. I calm slowly from the panic attack, letting my lungs collect the air they so desperately need.
I’ve finally fallen asleep when a nurse wakes me up to get permission for the cops to return. “They’ve got a few questions for you if that’s okay.”
I look to Dallas though I’m not sure what I’m looking for. I don’t need him to tell me if it’s okay to talk or not. I already know he wants me to. I don’t need his approval either. Maybe I’m so used to waiting for Sam to give me the go-ahead on everything I do that it’s a habit at this point, and I’m just now realizing it.
Dallas watches me intently, waiting for my decision. I focus back on the nurse, who types something into the computer. “Okay.”
She smiles at me, but it’s all pity. Or maybe sympathy? I’m not sure at this point. It all looks the same. She moves to the door, ushering the officers into the room. “I’ll be at the nurses' station. Let me know if you need anything.” Her bright smile to them almost contradicts the ones she’s given me the entirety of my stay.
The male officer speaks first. “Hi, Ms. Cooper. I’m Officer Pierce, but you can call me Dan. This is my partner, Officer Putnam.”
“Please, call me Olivia.” She offers a friendly smile. “Is Abigail okay or would you prefer we call you something else?”
“Um,” I stutter, trying to come to grips with what’s about to happen. “Abby is fine.”
“Abby, of course. We have a few questions for you. But first, I’d like to speak to you alone if that’s all right. It won’t be long.” She looks between Dallas and me.
“Okay,” I hesitate.
Dallas stands, a look of concern on his face. “I’ll be in the hall right outside the room.” He squeezes my hand before following Officer Pierce out the door.
Once the door shuts, Olivia moves to the side of the bed, sitting in the chair Dallas was just in. “I won't ask how you are, because I know this is all very overwhelming and I’m sure that’s all anyone has asked you in the last few hours.”
My nerves alleviate, appreciating her directness. “Thanks,” I say, looking at my now empty hand.
“Before we start with the procedural questions, I want to make sure you feel safe. In the hospital, with your nurses and doctors, and with,” she looks at her notepad, “Dallas, is it?” She cocks her head to the side.
“I do, yeah.” My voice is shaky. I’m still on edge.
“That’s great to hear. If at any point you don’t feel safe, you can call me. I’ll give you my direct number. Are you comfortable with Officer Pierce being here for the questioning? As well as Dallas? If not, I assure you, it can just be you and I in here.”
I take a deep breath before answering, trying to decide if I want all that company. “I think that’ll be okay. I do want Dallas in here at least.”
“Absolutely. And you can stop me at any point and let me know if I need to kick Dan out of the room. He won’t be offended. I promise.” I smile at the small joke. She opens the door to let them know they can rejoin us.
Dallas takes his place in the chair next to me, offering his hand again, and I take it graciously. He places the other on top with a smile before turning to the cops again, waiting for whatever questions they have for me.
“Okay, Abby. I want to first start out by letting you know that you do not need to answer anything you’re not comfortable with. Just say next, and I’ll move to another question. You are also welcome to have a lawyer present if you choose. That sound okay?” Dan asks.
“Sure.”
When I don’t say anything further, he opens his notepad. “Great. I’m going to start with today and then we can backtrack to any information after I get the lowdown for the day. So, from this morning, when you woke up, can you tell us what happened?”
As I walk the officers through the day’s events, I start to stumble when I get to the point of Sam luring me out of the building. “I know he hit me, and I fell backward, hitting my head. I’m not sure how exactly all of that happened because it happened so fast, but I remember things getting fuzzy after that. I know Dallas showed up and scared him off and then we ended up here.”
They both jot down notes, looking up briefly to listen. “Thank you for walking me through that. I know replaying that can be hard. I’m very grateful Dallas showed up when he did.” Dan smiles at Dallas, who smiles back. The officers continue their questions, focusing on the relationship between Sam and me leading up to this.
It’s almost surreal to relive all of this in such a short period. I’ve known for a while, especially once the physical abuse started, that this relationship was turning toxic and abusive. But as I provide them with all this information, I’m now realizing just how bad things have been, and for how long. How did I let myself get here? Where did I go wrong? The tears that trickle down my cheek are quickly wiped away by Dallas’s delicate hand. He continues the circles on my hand, soothing and reassuring.
Olivia finds the tissues and offers me the box. “How are you doing?” she starts. “Nope, don’t answer that. I said I wasn’t going to ask that.” She shakes her head. “I know this is a lot of questions, and you’re doing great. I know walking through all this again is hard. Just know you’ve got a crew standing with you in this.” She nods at Dan and Dallas.
Someone knocks on the door. I expect to see a nurse ready to check on my vitals again. I can’t get any peace in this place. My arms are like pin cushions. Confusion strikes when a lady I don’t recognize, who also isn’t in scrubs or a white jacket walks in. “Hi, is this Abigail Cooper’s room?” she asks peering around the officers. They step aside to let her in. A smile spreads across her face when she sees Dallas. “Hi, honey,” she says, moving across the room to give Dallas a hug.
“Hey, Mom.” He hugs her tightly. She’s much shorter than he is but probably a few inches taller than me. Her caramel brown hair and light skin match Dallas’s almost perfectly though Dallas seems tanner, probably from spending so much time in the sun. Her navy blue business suit and black heels scream corporate.
Dallas’s mom turns to Olivia, greeting her sweetly, “Hi, Olivia. It’s been a while, but it’s good to see you.” They all shake hands before she moves back to Dallas’s side.
Dallas addresses me this time. “Abby, this is my mom, Trisha. I called her because she’s an attorney and will know a lot more about how to handle this whole situation.”
Trisha moves closer. “It’s nice to meet you, Abby. I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances. I apologize for interrupting the officers’ investigation.”
A lawyer? I hadn’t even thought of needing one. There’s so much that I haven’t thought of yet. So many people. Why so many people? I feel like I’m getting so many people involved in this that I never intended to. Though, I never intended any of this to become public knowledge. I thought I would take this to my grave. As my heart beats faster, the steady beep of the machine grows rapidly, alerting everyone in the room. It’s one thing for my pulse to increase while I’m explaining the hard parts, but I’m not even talking right now.
“I think we’ve got enough information for now,” Olivia says, closing her notepad and stuffing it into a front pocket on her vest. She nods toward the door, encouraging Dan to follow her. “We’ll be out here if you need anything. I’ll let you know before we leave for the day.”
“Thanks,” I stammer, still in shock from Dallas’s mom showing up. When I look back, they stare at me like they’re waiting for something. “Look,” I start, but Dallas cuts me off.
“I’m sorry I sprang this on you. I was trying to be proactive, and I was pissed off, well still am, and I didn’t know who else to call, and I didn’t know if you had any family that could help or if I should call them or—”
“Dallas,” I say, trying to stop his rambling. “It’s fine. I’m just ... a bit overwhelmed.” I’m not sure if that’s a lie or the truth. Or both. Either way, I know for a fact that my mind can’t keep up with itself.
“Abby? If I may. I’m an attorney who specializes in violent crimes. If you choose to cooperate with the charges being brought against your ex, they will assign you to a random county attorney or you can hire one yourself. Now, you don’t have to choose right now, but if you’ll allow it, I would be honored to represent you and support you through this.” She pauses and takes a step closer, folding her hands in front of her. “I want you to know that I understand how terrifying all of this is, not directly from your perspective, but I’ve dealt with too many cases similar to yours. Just know this. People like him don’t change. You have to put yourself first in all of this.”
My head is spinning with all this information. The last thing I want to do right now is see that asshole again. Would pressing charges do anything? Sam has money. He’d probably be able to hire anyone he wanted, and a good one at that. It’s also going to make him even more upset. He’s already mad that I left him. I don’t want to give him any more reason to seek me out again. And I don’t know how to put myself first anymore. I tried that and now look where we are.
“I need to pee,” I say, changing the subject.
Trisha smiles. “I’ll be in the hall if you need me.” She squeezes Dallas’s shoulder before leaving us alone with the beeping machines.
When I finally face Dallas, he looks frustrated. “Abby, you know I’m not going to force you to do anything, but please consider her offer.” He moves to the other side of the bed and presses the call button on the remote without giving me a chance to reply.
“Yes?” a lady’s voice sounds from the small speaker.
I sigh before saying, “Hi, could I get some help? I have to use the bathroom.”
“Sure thing. Someone will be right in.”
Once the nurse gets me unhooked from what I can be unhooked from, she helps me stand. One of my hands grips her arm while the other holds tightly to Dallas. I take a few slow steps just in case something hurts, but when I feel confident that I can walk mostly normally, I let go of Dallas and allow the nurse to help me into the bathroom. She gives me a few instructions on how to maneuver with the IV rack and tube attached to my arm and signs to watch for with the head trauma before leaving me alone in the bathroom.
For the first time, I look at myself in the mirror. My right cheek is bruised the worst it’s ever been, starting at my cheekbone and arching around my temple. I run my tongue over the small cut on my swollen bottom lip. My hair is tied into a messy ponytail. A few stray hairs poke out awkwardly from the white gauze wrapped around my head. I lift my arm to try to smooth them out, but an audible wince escapes me as the pain from my ribs rips across my chest.
“Abby? You okay?” I hear Dallas call from the other side of the door. “Do you need help?”
“I’m fine. Just twisted wrong.” I shake my head, trying to regain my strength to move toward the toilet. I’m learning quickly that slow movements help keep the pain at a manageable level. I know if I move a little too fast, the pain will radiate through me again.
I risk moving my robe to see the bruising on my ribcage, but what I see doesn’t shock me. After so many beatings from Sam, though none this bad, I guess I’ve gotten used to the sight of bruises and cuts. Especially on me. This time I just happen to also have a cracked skull. That one’s new to me.
I stare at my reflection in the mirror, taking in the damage as I have done so many times before. But this time feels different. I’m in a hospital, not at home. Moving is so much harder than it ever has been. My skull is literally broken. It’s too much. It’s all too much. I can’t keep doing this. Can I?
As I climb back into the hospital bed, Dallas keeps to my side, offering both hands for support. I rest my head on the fluffy pillows, staring at the dots on the ceiling. “I’m so tired.”
“You can take a nap, or try to at least,” Dallas says, settling into the chair again.
“No. I mean, I’m tired. Of everything. I can’t keep doing this,” I choke out.
Dallas sits up, hands braced on his knees. “Life isn’t supposed to be like this, Abby.”
I chuckle through blurry vision. “I think I’m starting to put that together.” I shake my head and meet his eyes. “I don’t know why it took getting beat this bad to figure that out.”
“Don’t beat yourself up about it.”
“Ha, ha,” I say, mocking his pun. Whether he was trying to make it on purpose or not, I’m not sure, but it makes for a good tension breaker.
He smiles, scooting his chair a little closer. He tucks a few stray hairs behind my ear before gently wiping the rogue tear off my cheek. He pauses, his hand light. “I’m serious, though. Be nice to Abby. She deserves it.”
I lean into his hand, eyes drifting closed. “I’m trying.”
“I know. I’ll help.”
I smile before dropping my head, staring at my fidgeting fingers. I can feel his eyes on me. They’re gentle but intent, watchful, careful. My once-racing heart steadies as I realize what needs to be done. What I have to do. What I want to do. I’m terrified. But with the right people by my side, with Dallas by my side, I think I can do this. No. I know I can do this.
“I’m ready,” I say.
Dallas looks confused. “Ready?”
“I’m ready to press charges.”