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As if the situation could possibly be more mortifying, I get my answer when I notice Lukas’ flushed face. It had to be him? Really?
I avoid looking anywhere in Lukas’ vicinity and turn my attention to the nurse. “I’m okay, thank you.”
She makes a “tsk tsk” sound and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t you ‘I’m okay’ me, I need and want to hear exactly how you’re feeling. I can’t help you heal if I’m not up to speed. Understand?” She looks down at me kindly but expectantly and starts to change my bandage.
I clear my throat a little, still flustered. “I, um… I’m still a bit disoriented and I have a slight headache. Other than that, I really am okay.”
“That’s a girl,” she praises me. “You’re a tough cookie, aren’t ya? It’s remarkable you’re even awake right now.” She rewraps the bandages around my head, thankfully leaving more of my face free. The air is refreshing on my skin.
Bennet holds a cup in front of me, guiding the straw to my mouth so I can take a few slow sips. “We are incredibly thankful she’s awake and doing well.” He’s so sincere I honestly can’t tell if he’s putting on a show or not.
“Are you Mr. Anderson?”
“No, ma’am. My name is Bennet Adley.” The nurse looks a bit shell-shocked, obviously recognizing his name, but takes it in stride.
“Well, that does explain the VIP level bubble around this room,” she chuckles, but then gets down to business and looks me right in the eye. “We have a trauma nurse here to do your examination, dear. Would you like some privacy?” She looks at the men crowding the room and suggests they enjoy a cup of coffee in the lounge down the hall.
Inhaling sharply, my hand inadvertently squeezes Luis’.
“I’ll stay with Mia.” Everyone in the room turns to look at him, trying to hide their surprise when he claims he is Mr. Anderson and repeats that he’d like to stay with me. “If you want me to, of course.” His eyes are sincere and captivating.
All I can do is stare into his eyes and nod. “Okay.” I’ll be damned if I don’t feel a huge wave of relief. Despite only just meeting him, I need his support. At this moment, self-preservation is overriding my embarrassment.
Closing my eyes, I swallow another dry lump in my throat. Breathing deeply, in through my nose and out through my mouth, I try to control my nerves. When I open them again, Luis is still staring at me with his deep green eyes. I’m so absorbed by his focus that I flinch when someone knocks lightly on the door.
“You don’t have to stay,” I whisper at him as the door opens. Another nurse enters the room, pulling a tray table behind her. My gaze stays on Luis.
“I’m staying.” His answer is firm. Finally, he breaks eye contact to acknowledge the trauma nurse.
This nurse is tall and thin, with dark hair pulled up into a ponytail. She introduces herself to both of us and goes over what is about to take place. She speaks in a calm voice, like she is afraid of spooking me, as she does her best to give me gentle details about the process.
Luis holds my hand the whole time, nodding and listening to her every word, but it’s like I’m listening through a tunnel. I miss most of what she says, nodding whenever Luis does as if I understand. As she talks, she takes notes of my vital signs.
She takes some swabs of my mouth, and helps me position myself carefully for the rest of the exam. She tells me she has to remove my catheter.
For a moment, there’s silence and the nurse repeats herself, apparently asking permission to continue. Unable to find my voice, I nod and gingerly turn my head to the side, facing Luis.
Mostly I shut it all out, closing my eyes and squeezing Luis’ hand. Instead of the flash of the camera, the touch of her hands, various swabs- I focus on him. Flinching as she plucks hairs, I try to pretend I’m anywhere but here. When she inserts the speculum for the internal part of the examination, a tear slips free unbidden.
Luis lowers his head next to mine and softly whispers words of comfort and praise, but I barely hear him and instead focus on the sensation of his warm breath across my face. When the speculum clicks to open me farther, I can’t suppress a wince. Luis presses his lips against my forehead.
Before I know it, she removes the speculum, cleans me up, and helps me get comfortable on the bed again. I sit myself up before we can go over the results of the exam, needing a less vulnerable position.
The rest of the guys return with Nurse Irene, who helps me adjust the bed properly. One by one, each of the guys lays a hand somewhere on my body, grounding me. Right or wrong, I feel stronger with them around me.
There’s a solemn silence in the room as all five of them look expectantly at the trauma nurse, but she only looks at me. She’s holding a sealed bag labeled “evidence”, which distracts me for a moment. Noticing the silence, I look up to see her watching me, but I don’t sense any judgment. She’s waiting for my consent again.
Given the reason why she is here, it occurs to me that this nurse is exceptionally good at her job. I don’t know how to express my appreciation, still at a loss for words. It’s all I can do to give her a small, watery smile and straighten my spine, focusing on the wall of safety I have around me. I’m ready. I can do this.
Whatever happened before I got here is in the past. I can’t remember it, so it can’t hurt me. This is the mantra that I repeat to myself, but I still hold my breath as she goes through her physical exam findings.
“Evidence from your defensive wounds and external bruising would lead me to believe that an attempt may have been made, but there are no signs of internal trauma. It does not appear you were successfully penetrated, or at least not in a way that caused damage.” Every male in the room lets out a breath.
It’s almost like they were more concerned than I was. Then again, I have been doing my best to detract and minimize the amount of thought I put into it.
“I did also collect all necessary evidence, which will remain in my custody until law enforcement arrives and signs for it. It will be entered into evidence at the police station, and eventually sent to a lab should you decide to pursue it.” I notice how Bennet looks up at those words, making eye contact with the other guys.
“There are a few things of note that aren’t in your chart,” she continues. “For example, it seems you’ve had a partial hysterectomy, which is uncommon at your age. I also noted some older scarring on your cervix, which could be caused by several things, including the surgery you had to remove your uterus, other surgeries, or abuse. None of that should cause you any discomfort but I would consult a gynecologist if you have any issues.”
