Page 213 of Nyx

I swallow, feeling victimized by Graham all over again.

"The police would like your clothes for evidence," she continues when I don't answer. "It will help get your attacker convicted."

"Okay," I agree silently.

"We have to follow the chain of custody with your clothing and all other samples collected tonight," she says. "I have to stay in the room, but I will turn my back to give you some privacy."

As if her words are magical, every other medical staff person leaves the area, the curtain blocking everything else from view.

"I don't have any other clothes to put on," I say, knowing there is no way in the world I will leave here wearing only a hospital gown.

The nurse stands and walks toward a cabinet. I want to cry when I see how many different sizes they have.

"We have t-shirts and sweatpants available for—"

"Victims," I whisper, my voice hitching with heartache.

"Yes, ma'am," she says, looking back at me with sadness in her eyes.

"That shelf is marked for kids," I say, pointing to the top, my bottom lip trembling.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Please call me Juliet," I urge.

"Do you think a medium would be comfortable, Juliet?"

"Yes, thank you," I say, watching as she pulls out the correct size before closing the cabinet.

"We have these slippers," she says, pulling out thin, flip-flop things similar to what a nail salon would provide when getting a pedicure.

She places the clothes and slippers to the side before grabbing a gown.

"Place the items on this table. I'll bag them separately for the police, and then I'll need you to put on the gown for the examination and sample collection."

"Okay," I tell her.

"Do you need help standing?"

I shake my head.

"Ready?"

I nod, waiting for her to turn around before standing from the wheelchair and grabbing the bottom hem of my shirt.

As if she can sense me worrying with it after pulling it over my head, she speaks.

"It doesn't matter if they're inside out."

I place the shirt on the table, waiting for her to bag it before reaching for the button on my jeans.

Realizing she expects me to hand over my shoes, I kick them off and place them on the table, feeling a little angrier because they're my best sneakers.

The jeans are next, and after placing them on the table, I reach for the gown.

"They'll want all of it," the nurse says, keeping her back to me.

"There's no need."