Page 126 of Stalkers Anonymous

She glances at her screen, clicking around before finally asking, “Are you family?”

I don’t answer right away because the truthful answer is no and I am not in the mood to be turned away, especially when the patient in question works here and called me specifically.

Beyond the desk, a familiar voice says, “He’s with me.”

I turn to find Rachel standing in the corridor in a hoodie and sweatpants, red hair pulled into a messy knot, eyes red-rimmed but dry. She’s holding a paper coffee cup and staring at me with an assessing look in her eye.

“Rachel.” I half smile at her, unsure what to say.

“Cole.”

The receptionist looks between us until Rachel nods at her, prompting her to clack her fingers on the keyboard until a visitor sticker pops out of the thermal printing machine beside her.

Rachel just stands there, staring at me until I’m past the desk and into the corridor with her. We walk in silence to an elevator, and then she looks me up and down, stepping in front of me before I can press the call button.

“Stop. Before you go up there.”

“Rachel—”

“I am here because Hailey asked me to be here.” Her voice is quiet and very steady. It’s kind of fucking scary. “I am not on your side. I want to be very clear about that.”

I don’t answer, and instead I let her lay into me. I know I deserve it, and she deserves to be heard.

“But she made the decision to call you anyway,” Rachel says. “She’s a capable adult, and she gets to decide who she wants in her life. So I’m going to step out of your way. But I want you to remember that I’m doing that because it’s what she wants, not because I trust you.”

My response is soft. “I understand.”

“Do not make me regret letting you back there.”

Holding my hands up and shaking my head, I say, “I won’t. I promise.”

She studies me for another second, then steps aside, letting me press the button to the elevator.

“Floor four, room twelve,” she says. “She’s tired.”

“Thank you,” I exhale as I slide past her and step into the cab. She watches me until the doors close, giving me one final nod before she disappears.

Room twelve is toward the end of the first hall. The door is half open, and I push it open gently, suddenly scared to see her.

Visions of Emma come flooding back to me, and I feel like I’m reliving that nightmare all over again. I am reliving that nightmare all over again, I realize.

Her body is so small and fragile in the bed.

She normally looks so tall and strong… Lying in that bed with the blanket pulled up to her neck and her hair tucked behind one ear, she is small.

He tried to make her small.

Her left eye is purple and black and swollen most of the way shut. There’s a deep wound with stitches across her cheek and unmistakably finger-shaped bruises around her neck.

Fuck. It’s worse than I thought it’d be.

She turns her head when she hears me, moving so sluggishly it’s like the room is moving at a different speed than she is.

“Hi,” she says. The corner of her mouth lifts a fraction.

“Hi,” I manage, swallowing hard.

I cross the room to her, but I don’t touch her. I don’t think I can yet. Instead, I sit in the chair beside her bed, put my hands on my knees, and look at her face for a long time.