Page 88 of What Comes Around

The nurse stepped out to prepare the paperwork.

I lay back against the pillow and stared at the ceiling, trying to steady my breathing.

I got away.

The words repeated in my head, steady and rhythmic, like something I needed to hold onto.

I got away.

I am here.

I am safe.

A few minutes later another nurse arrived with a wheelchair. She helped me off the bed slowly and guided me into the seat. The moment I sat down the room tilted slightly.

They wheeled me through the hallways, the lights too bright, the sounds too sharp. I kept my hands folded tightly in my lap, my fingers digging into each other as if that alone could keep me grounded.

The scans were quick. A cold room. The low hum of machines. The technician asking me to hold still.

I kept my eyes closed the entire time.

I am safe.

I am safe.

I am safe.

When they brought me back to the exam room, it felt smaller somehow. I sat on the bed, exhaustion settling into my bones, my thoughts drifting to my past life and all the ways this night could have ended differently.

Then the door burst open.

I flinched violently, my heart leaping into my throat. For a split second, terror flooded me. I thought they had come back.

Then I saw Knox.

The nurse behind him tried to stop him. “Sir, you cannot be in here. Who are you? You cannot just walk into patient rooms.”

He did not even look at her. His eyes were on me.

“Ashley,” he said, voice low and rough, and everything inside me cracked.

He crossed the room in three long strides and stopped at my bedside. His hand closed around mine, grounding me in a way nothing else had since the attack.

“Jesus… Ashley.”

New tears slipped out before I could stop them.

I hated it.

I hated how easily my emotions spilled over, how little control I had. But the moment he touched me, the moment I saw his face, everything I had been holding together started to shake.

“I am okay,” I whispered, though my voice trembled.

His jaw clenched. He lifted his free hand and brushed a thumb under my eye, careful not to touch the bruised skin.

“You are not okay. But you will be.”

I let out a shaky breath. More tears came, silent and hot. I turned my face away, embarrassed, but he gently guided me back.