5. Finleigh
Finleigh
T hey stayed awake all night. Every time my eyes opened, one or both of the men would be watching me or the door.
No one entered my room without a thorough inspection.
I suspect they’d have patted down every nurse as well but didn’t because they had been introduced to the overnight staff before yesterday’s shift ended.
I started this morning feeling more rested than I have since arriving, despite being woken at dawn for all the tests they wanted completed before I leave.
My hunger returned, too, and thankfully, Brute walked through the door with breakfast in hand as I was coming out of the bathroom.
A nurse must help me every single time, and it’s degrading and makes me sick every single time .
They all think I don’t understand the worst of what happened to me, but the agony between my legs tells a story they’re all intentionally keeping from me.
I was assaulted, violated, and raped. Not remembering doesn’t make it any better. The knowledge, the feelings inside my body speak the truth. The physical proof is on the outside. My only path forward right now is damaged and broken.
The swelling is going down, the bruises will fade, and maybe one day my memory will resurface, but it won’t matter because deep inside, I’ll know. Whoever hurt me not only stole my will and memories, but they also stole any innocence and consent I may have been holding onto.
Obviously, I wasn’t a virgin; the two men watching me eat and the baby fluttering in my belly are the apparent signs.
However, that doesn’t mean I was sexually wise.
It doesn’t mean there wasn’t some sort of ingenuousness left in me.
Maybe I still believed there was good in the world.
Maybe I lived in lightness. But now, I feel like I’m shrouded in darkness.
“Did you know?” I ask, sipping on the apple juice I was given. Unable to meet their eyes, I pick at the bacon, egg, and cheese biscuit.
Brute’s are a mix of thick green grass after a hard rain, so dark and imploring. His stare holds so much anger and more secrets than I’ll ever understand. In contrast, Axl’s are so similar to mine. A hazel reddish-brown mix with flecks of gold.
“About what?” Axl is the one to ask. His voice is hoarse, making the hairs on my arms stand at attention. It’s like a rough caress with good intentions.
“The baby.” Chewing on my lip, I glance up. “You seemed surprised yesterday.”
They share a look, and I get the feeling they didn’t think I’d notice that. Frankly, it wasn’t until waking up around three this morning and not being able to sleep that I began to interpret how they’d looked at each other during my panic attack.
Axl sighs but doesn’t say anything. I notice he defers to Brute at some of my questions, and I wonder if that’s because he doesn’t want to hurt me or for some other reason.
Brute scrubs one of his brawny hands up and down his face, scratching at his jaw before he stands up and grips the rails at the end of my bed. “We didn’t.” His honesty shocks me. “It’s been a minute since we’ve seen you. A baby hadn’t been a thought.”
Analyzing his reasoning, no follow-up questions can be asked because the doctor enters with a nurse, who is holding what I assume are my discharge papers.
“Good morning.” The doctor's cheerful greeting dies when he spots the two men with me. “Uh, hello.”
They grunt in response, making the nurse roll her eyes as she steps in.
“Discharge and care instructions.” She waves a paper. “Prescriptions and dosing information.” She waves two more sheets. “And future appointments. It’s important you don’t miss these.” She ignores Brute and Axl while speaking to me.
“Thank you.” I accept all the paperwork as the doctor finally speaks, reiterating everything that’s written down.
After Brute’s growled, “We got it,” they exit the room.
“Uhm, so, I guess I leave now.” With nowhere to go.
“Do you need help getting dressed?” Axl asks as he gets the clothes they’d brought for me from the small closet.
He’s unpacking them when I ask, “Will they fit?” They hadn’t known about the baby when they were purchased.
His grin is disarming as his head pops up. “We went safe with sweats, a baggy shirt, and Crocs. Weren’t sure what the injuries were, so we wanted it to be simple for you.”
I wilt, and tears pop up at their thoughtfulness. I don’t know why, but I feel like that’s the kindest thing someone has done for me in a long time.
“What is this?” I’m surprised at Brute’s gentle touch as he grips my chin with his thumb and pointer finger, lifting my face and stepping between my legs. “Why are you upset?” He seems genuinely perplexed. So am I.
“I don’t remember anything. Nobody from a week ago.
Has it been a week? I don’t even know that.
And here you two are, big, bad, intimidating, and you thought about how I would feel.
Who does that?” I sob, and he draws me carefully into his chest, rubbing soothing circles on my back.
Not at all what I’d expect from such a closed-off man.
“Breathe, princess. Close your eyes and focus on breathing.” Brute’s growly voice grounds me as Axl moves in behind me on the bed, straddling my back with his legs on the outside of my body and his hands on my bare thighs.
Their touch is a welcoming sensation as I’m encapsulated between them, protected from all sides. Whoever they are, whatever they’ve done, it’ll never matter to me, not now that they’re showering me with empathy and compassion when I need it more than anything else in the world.