Natasha opens her eyes. She really is in the hospital. Damn, it wasn’t a dream.
Her head is a little muzzy, tender.
Reaching up, she can feel bandages swaddling her head. Aches all over. Wiggle fingers, toes. All the bits work but everything is stiff and achy. She’s sore, everything is sore, but no killing pain. Seems the drugs are pretty much worn off. The I.V. is out. Good, that means she must have enough fluids. Take it slow. It means she’ll be able to get back to real life sooner. No time for laying around in bed. Things to do. Like find the bathroom.
She sits up slowly. Okay, not dizzy or anything, that’s pretty good. Head a little sore. Gotta pee bad though. Very gingerly she turns sideways, slides her legs to the edge. Feet over. She can do this. She slides off the edge of the bed, feet on the floor.
Cold. A moment of dizzy, grip the bed rail. Hold on. Better. Cold feet, pee, no contest.
She pulls the thin top blanket off the bed and wraps it around her shoulders like a shawl and shuffles toward the doorway and sure enough the side door is a … closet. Next one is … yes. Natasha is acutely thankful for the metal bar positioned beside the toilet. As she lowers herself she is impressed with the accomplishment. You know you’re at a low point when going to the potty by yourself gives you the same rush as climbing Everest. The thought triggers a giggle. Ouch. Hurts without drugs.
She’s gonna have to check her face in the mirror when she’s done. It will be bad.
Maybe better not to look.
No.
She has to know.
Finishing up, she flushes and toddles to the mirror. A mess of bruises down her face. A split lip. Teeth all present and accounted for. All in all not too bad. Considering.
She washes her hands, splashes water on her face. There’s a shower stall, with a seat in here. A bath would be so good. Yes. She shuffles back to the door and peeks out. No lock on the bathroom door. Great, she thinks ruefully, that’d be handy if she were to fall and not be able to get up.
Just she wants privacy. She wants to be able to lock the door. But she needs to wash even more. The shower head is on a hose clipped to the wall.
This is good. Get a nice gentle spray outta that. Draping the blanket over the towel rack, she lets the pathetic little hospital gown slip to the floor. The mirror above the sink shows a symphony of bruises running down her torso. Ga. Who could do something like this?
On purpose. Suddenly it feels personal.
The fragile balance she’s been feeling slips and a surge of anger washes over her. God, what do women see in men? They are nothing but pigs. She grips the edge of the sink and closes her eyes, breathing deeply. Breathe.
Bath. Think about sitting down in the soothing water. Only antibacterial hand soap liquid on the sink. But really, it’s the water she wants, soothing water. Soap might hurt. Have to see. But water will help. Getting clean.
Oh yes.
Over to the bath, she sets the soap on a shelf, then unhooks the nozzle and suspends it to hang low to spray inside the tub enclosure while she gets the water to the right temperature. Brain is ticking. She takes it as a good sign she wasn’t stupid enough to shock herself with cold water.
Now the water is warm so Natasha shuts it off and opens the door, stepping carefully into the bath. She pulls the tub enclosure door firmly closed. The last thing she wants is a flood and a bunch of people running in to help. Uh uh.
Natasha turns the water on and uses the the nozzle, gently spraying it all over. Feels nice. But with no lock, she can’t get really relax. She feels too exposed.
She puts soap on her hands and lathers up, but rubbing it on her shoulders aches, so maybe not.
But.
She’s been avoiding looking down.
Examining herself. She has always been comfortable in her own body. She just was. Until now. Now someone has done something unspeakable to her and she doesn’t even know the extent of it.
Because she’s afraid to even look. Breathe. Breathe deeply, suck in the air. Think of something nice. Beach. Waves rolling in, the sun beating down, warming her. Yes. Okay. She can handle it.
No way is she letting that bastard win.
Taking a firm grip on the bar, just in case, she looks down. There are black and purple marks inside her thighs. The bruises and abrasions from the pummeling he gave her are nothing to seeing exactly where hands gripped the insides of her thighs as the bastard raped her.
Chills run down her spine as she stares in horror at the bruises in the shape of hand prints. Seeing where the fingers dug into her flesh makes it all too real and a wave of nausea overcomes Natasha and she vomits bile into the tub. Still she clings to the bar with all her strength.
Ignore the tears. They’re tears of anger. Tears of strength. Grip the bar. Tight.
Falling down is not an option.
No fucking way is that asshole gonna get away with this. No fucking way. Open eyes. Turn the nozzle on the bile and spray until it’s all gone. Soap. Lather up, rub it in. Damn but that stings.
Everything hurts. Let the water flow. Washing it all away along with the tears. She is alive.
He cold cocked her, she was out cold from the get go. She didn’t fight.
Why did he punch the hell out of her? Wasn’t raping her enough? She’d heard that rape was a crime of violence, and she can both see and feel how much anger has been unleashed on her. But still she can’t make sense of it. It just hurts. Let the water flow. The warmth helps soothe the aches.
She’s just starting to drift off when she hears a tentative knock on the door. A clutch of terror washes over her. Shut off the water, grip the nozzle. Some defensive weapon, eh? Rat bastard who did this. Made her scared of a knock on a door.
“Yes?” her voice is stronger than she thought it would be. Although muffled by the door, the voice is unmistakable.
“Natasha, It’s Liz. I brought you some things. Do you need a hand in there?”
Uh oh. Sexual fantasy 101. Liz putting hands on her helpless body, helping dress her, Ohmigod, no. It can’t happen. “I’m okay Liz. I’ll be out in a minute.”
“They said you were still sleeping but the IV was out. Want me to go get you some juice or something?”
“Yes please. That’d be awesome. Juice, food. Anything you can get, I’m starving here.” She smiles as she hears Liz bounce away. Okay good, now get out and dressed before Liz comes back. She hopes Liz brought real clothes. If it’s down to the hospital gown she’ll just have to wear the blanket as a toga.
Natasha comes out and sure enough the bag on the bed has clothes, sweat pants. Soft and forgiving. Excellent choices. Oh hell, most of this was in a filthy heap on the floor under her bed. Why did Liz have to go and do her laundry? She’ll never get over the silly crush at this rate.
Climbing back onto the bed she struggles into the fluffy sweats. She rests before wrestling her fuzzy socks on. Not hardly dizzy. How good does it get.
A gentle knock on the door. Natasha calls, “Come in.” God, she thinks, I almost feel like a human again.
“Natasha, you’re dressed. Shouldn’t you be in bed?”
“Well I’m on the bed. I actually don’t feel too bad, considering. This is so much better than that hospital gown. Girl, I’m gonna have to put you in my will for that.”
Liz giggles. “Oh I’m so glad you’re all right. You look a million times better.” Liz hands Natasha a bottle of apple juice.
“Then I must have looked pretty bad.”
Liz nods. “Ethan wanted to come, but I said no.”
“Why? Oh, you mean because… I don’t think it’s him, it would be okay, you know. Ethan’s a friend, he’s a nice guy.”
Liz smiles. “Yeah, I think so. You think he’s nice?”
Natasha says, “Yeah, I do.”
“They really had you doped to the eyeballs.”
“I don’t remember much, it was pretty surreal.” Holding the juice bottle gingerly, Natasha takes a sip and the juice stings her split lip, but she needs the liquid. “But I’m close to clean and sober right now and … you know, I could swear all of these clothes were filthy, under my bed even.” Natasha purses her lips. “What’d you have to go and do my laundry for? You didn’t have to do that.”
“You’d have done the same for me, I didn’t want, I mean I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad, but I felt a little guilty enough going in your room without permission and I didn’t want to go through your drawers, too, that’s so personal. So I just threw some of your stuff on the floor in with the load of laundry I was doing for myself anyway. No biggie.”
“Don’t be silly.” Natasha sits back, relaxing a little. “Liz. You were doing a favor. I mean, really, getting clothes for somebody in the hospital isn’t exactly the same as ransacking their drawers so you can read their diary.” Thinking, ransack my drawers anytime.
“You have a diary? Oh the chances I missed.”
“Yeah right. Even if I was insane enough to have a diary I sure wouldn’t leave it laying around Fyfield house, at least not without heavy duty encryption, that’s for sure. Did you bring chocolate?”
Liz empties chocolate bars from her bag onto the bed. “You should have some real food though.”
Natasha asks, “Is the cafeteria still open? What time is it?”
“Only vending machines at this point. I can go out and get you a salad from Lick’s if you want.”
“Screw salad, I’m a carnivore. I want a Homeburger with extra Guk. French fries. Maybe two Homeburgers. I’m starving.” Suddenly Natasha frowns, remembering, “Hey, where’s Boris?”
“Oh, the cops were just taking him away when I got here.”
Natasha sits up abruptly, scattering chocolate bars and clothes. “What?”
“The cops, they were putting him in a police car.” seeing the look on Natasha’s face Liz falters, “Why, shouldn’t they have? Wasn’t it him?”
Natasha shakes her head. “Shit no. They arrested Bo? No, it wasn’t Bo. No way. Why would they think it was Bo? I told them I couldn’t recognize who it was.”
“Then they have to figure it out without your identification. I guess everybody told them about that big fight you had.”
“But it wasn’t Bo.”
“How can you be so sure? I mean Nat, if you don’t know who did it, how can you know who didn’t do it?”
“For one thing, he was here today. There is no way he could have faced me if he’s done it without me knowing. And even if Bo was capable of raping me, there is no way, there is just no way he could ever have beat on me like that.”
Glancing at Natasha’s bandaged head, she replies, “I thought that was just to knock you out so you couldn’t recognize him.”
Natasha’s pulls up the sweatshirt to show Liz the livid bruising on her stomach.
“Oh my god.” breathes Liz.
“That is just the tip of the iceberg. I want you to get your camera and lights set up and take some good clear pictures. When they catch the bastard I want to make damn sure he goes to jail.”
“Oh, uh, yeah, sure of course.” Liz shivers. “But Natasha, if it wasn’t Boris, who was it?”
“I don’t know. Could have been almost anybody.” Natasha slides off the bed. “Did you bring me shoes?”
“Oh yeah, they’re right here.” Liz pulls a pair of running shoes out from under the bed. Natasha steps into them without untying them, wiggling until her feet are inside.
“I should’ve brought your Crocs, that would have been the smart thing.”
“It’s okay, my feet are the only thing that don’t hurt. Really, these are fine. You are an angel, girl.” Natasha is pulling her fleece hoodie on as she walks gingerly toward the door. Liz says, “Hey, wait. Where are you going?”
“I have to go help Boris. The cops have got him, and he’s not the guy.”
“Wait, why not call? What’s that cop’s name, Lawrence?”
“Lewis. Okay, I guess that’d work. I just can’t stand the idea of them picking on Bo.”
Liz suppresses a smile as she flips open her phone.
How can Natasha be so worried about a guy like Boris getting picked on? Boris can take care of himself.
“Yes, could I speak to Detective Lewis please?”
Natasha leans on the closet door, breathing. Waiting, while Liz waits. How could they take in Boris! “No, I need to speak to her now.” Liz rolls her eyes. “Yes, that’s what we need to talk to her about. Natasha says he isn’t the guy.”
Natasha zips up the hoodie, and turns to leave the room.
“But she is sure.” starting to sound angrier, “Look, I’m not four years old and I’m certainly not making this up. Look, Natasha needs to speak to the detective. No, not later. Now.”
Glancing back at the door Liz sees Natasha is gone. She closes the phone and hurries after her friend.
