Chapter Twenty-Nine Hailey
The problem with deciding that you’re ready for your first big social event after a stalker and an overly protective ex have flipped your life upside down and made you question everything from your sanity to your future marriage prospects, is that by the time you make the call to attend, you realize you have nothing to wear.
My wardrobe consists mainly of scrubs, athleisure, and oversize sweatshirts.
But for the annual ER staff party tomorrow night, I want to look as put together as I’ve been trying to feel.
Rachel picked up a last-minute shift at the PT clinic today, which meant I either have to go shopping alone or not at all.
Dr. Martinez and I have been working on rebuilding my independence. I can’t let fear control every decision for the rest of my life. So here I am at Mountain View Mall at eight p.m. on a Friday, having successfully found a dress and feeling proud of myself for taking this step.
The mall is quiet, and most of the stores are closing now. It’s time for me to head home, too. I take the escalator down to the parking garage, my new dress in a small shopping bag, feeling lighter than I have in weeks.
The parking garage is dimly lit, with an echo that makes every step sound like ten.
I’m parked on level 2, section C, and as I walk toward my car, I’m mentally planning the rest of my evening: home to try on the dress with different shoes, maybe paint my nails, a book or movie, depending on how tired I am.
My car is almost within view when I hear footsteps behind me, distinct from the rhythmic echo of my own. A chill shoots up my spine, raising goose bumps over my whole body. I slow down slightly, and the footsteps slow, too. I speed up, and they speed up as well.
I turn to look, but there’s no one there.
Don’t be paranoid. It’s a public parking garage. People walk to their cars.
But my heart races faster, and I grip my keys more tightly, sliding them between my fingers. I pick up my pace. I just need to get to my car.
It’ll be fine.
I’m almost running. The footsteps behind me get louder, pounding against the concrete, forcing me to break into a sprint.
Why did I park so far away? The mall was so busy when I got here, and it was already close to closing.
I knew it’d be dark by the time I got back out.
I knew the parking garage would be mostly empty.
But part of me was just so tired of being afraid all the time.
And now terror has me in a chokehold that feels like retaliation.
It’s almost crippling. I stumble on my next step, landing on my knees as I catch myself with my hands. The footsteps behind me slow to a stroll, and I finally turn to confront whoever’s following me.
But the way the air is charged reveals the truth before I see it with my own eyes.
Lars Winters stands about ten feet away, close enough for me to see the wicked smile on his face.
“Hello, Dr. Brigham,” he says, his voice a spit of venom.
The lower half of my body goes completely numb, frozen with fear. Fight or flight isn’t on the menu when I’m struggling to get back on my feet.
The restraining order was supposed to keep him away. But here he is. He followed me to the mall. He waited for me to be alone.
“You need to stay away from me.” The words come out through panicked breaths. “I have a restraining order against you. You know you’re not supposed to be near me.”
“I do know.” He takes a step closer. “But you and I have unfinished business. You cost me a lot of dignity when you got me banned from the hospital.”
“Your behavior got you banned.”
I risk a glance away from him, searching desperately for my car in the dark garage. I can see it a hundred or so feet away. It’s too fucking far.
“My behavior?” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “I was a patient seeking medical care, and you turned them against me. You made me out to be some kind of dangerous person. Is that what you think I am, Dr. Brigham?”
He takes another step closer.
“I’m going to get in my car now,” I say, standing slowly and turning toward it without taking my eyes off him. “And you’re going to leave me alone.”
“No. I don’t think so.” His voice hardens. “I think you and I are going to have a conversation about respect. About what happens when someone thinks she’s too good to help a person who needs her.”
On trembling legs, I run for it, trying to put distance between us, but I don’t make it far. He catches me before I’ve taken a half-dozen strides, grabbing me by the back of my head and pulling me to the ground by my hair. My shopping bag falls, and I hear my phone slide out of my purse.
“Let go of me!” I shout, hoping someone will hear, but the concrete walls just echo my voice back at me.
“Nobody’s coming to save you,” Lars says, his grip tightening. “Your boyfriend’s not here to play hero this time.”
Boyfriend.
For a confused moment, I don’t know who he means. Then I realize. He must have seen Cole that night.
He’s been waiting this whole time. For Cole not to be here, and for me to be alone.
I try to pull away, but Lars is stronger than he looks. Pain slices through my scalp as he grips my hair harder, yanking me around like I’m a broken doll.
“What do you want?” I cry out, trying to keep him talking while I figure out how to get away.
“I want you to understand what you’ve done to me. I lost access to my favorite hospital because some stupid resident doctor thought she was smarter than everyone else.”
“I was doing my job,” I gasp while he pulls my head back, forcing me to look at him.
“Your job?” He laughs again, that same cold sound. “Your job is to help your patients. Not judge them. Not make their lives harder. Do you know how hard life is when you’re living in chronic pain?”
I can smell whiskey on his breath now, and that scares me more than anything else. Drunk Lars Winters is unpredictable. More violent. So much more dangerous.
“Please,” I try. “You’re hurting me. This won’t solve anything.”
“It’ll make me feel better,” he says.
And that’s when I know I’m fucked.
I remember the self-defense class Rachel and I took six months ago, before any of this started. The instructor’s voice echoes in my head.
Don’t be polite. Don’t worry about being rude. Your safety is more important than anyone’s feelings. Don’t let them take you to a second location. They’ll never take you somewhere safer. Do everything you can to get away.
Lars’s grip loosens slightly as he shifts position, and I take my chance. I elbow his thigh as hard as I can. He yelps and loosens his hold just enough for me to break free.
I scramble to my feet and run toward my car, but he recovers faster than I expect. I make it maybe ten feet when he tackles me from behind, sending both of us crashing to the concrete. My knees and palms scrape against the rough surface, and my head slams into the ground.
Stars explode across my vision, but adrenaline keeps me moving. I roll over and try to kick at him, but he grabs my ankle and drags me back toward him.
“You think you’re so smart,” he pants, positioning himself over me. “You think you’re better than people like me. It’s time someone taught you a lesson.”
He swings his fist toward my face, and I manage to get my hands up just in time to deflect some of the blow. It still connects with my cheekbone, sending a sharp pain through my skull and making my vision blur.
Fight back, Hailey. Fight back. Live.
I dig my fingernails into his face, scratching as hard as I can. He screams and rears back, giving me enough space to bring my knee up hard between his legs. He doubles over, cursing, and I scramble out from under him.
But I’m disoriented from hitting my head, my limbs too heavy to lift. Lars grabs the back of my shirt, lifts me to face him, then slams me against a concrete pillar over and over, drawing out each blow like it’s bringing him more pleasure than the last.
The relentless impacts knock the wind out of me, leaving me gasping, and he uses my momentary paralysis to repeatedly punch my exposed side. Pain shatters through my torso, and I already know he’s broken my ribs.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t fucking breathe.
I’m gasping, fighting to get one solid breath.
“Not so tough now, are you?” he snarls, pressing his forearm against my throat. “All that attitude when you had security to protect you. Where are they now?”
I can’t breathe with his arm against my windpipe. Black spots dance at the edges of my vision. With what strength I have left, I drive my thumb into his eye as hard as I can.
Lars screams and staggers backward, clutching his face as blood spews out of his eye socket. I slide down the pillar, wheezing, my vision still spotty and dark.
“You fucking bitch!” he roars, but his voice sounds pained now. He’s pissed.
I force myself to move, stumbling toward the stairwell this time. I have to get help. I’ll never make it to my car. But my legs are unsteady, and I can hear him coming after me.
He catches me just before I reach the stairs, grabbing my hair and ripping me backward. I lose my balance and fall hard, my head hitting the concrete once more. This time, the stars don’t fade quickly. The darkness is settling in now, taking over.
Lars kicks me in the ribs while I’m down, and I curl into a ball, trying to protect my vital organs. The pain is too much—sharp, burning, making it hard to think clearly.
“You should have just given me what I needed,” he says, breathing hard. “You should have minded your own business and done your fucking job. This is your fault.”
He kicks me again, this time in the back of the head, and I cry out. I need to get away from him, but my body isn’t responding the way it should. Everything feels sluggish, disconnected.
Lars leans down to grab me again, and I use the last of my strength to drive my elbow back into his nose. I hear it crack, and he stumbles, off-balance. I turn just long enough to see that there’s blood coming out of nearly every hole in his face.