medical student.”
Cara looked at him through narrowed eyes. “I thought I was supposed to see another doctor,” she said, rubbing her sore throat with her left hand.
“Dr. Kent,” he replied. “He’s not here right now.”
Cara couldn’t think of anything to say. She was too tired for questions. Besides, she wasn’t certain she wanted to hear any of the answers. Cara collapsed back onto the pillow and shut her eyes. It seemed as if only a few seconds had elapsed before Debbie was shaking her again.
“Cara, wake up. You’ve been asleep for nearly an hour. C’mon, sit up. I brought you toast and a couple of boiled eggs and some fruit. You need to eat right now.”
Debbie helped Cara to sit at the edge of the bed, pulling a bedside table over. A tray of food sat on it. An involuntary groan escaped Cara’s lips as she moved into a sitting position.
“Does your arm hurt?”
“Everything hurts.”
“I know,” Debbie said. “We’ll try to make it better after you eat. I have a pain pill for you, but I want you to have something in your stomach first.”
Using her left hand, Cara reached for a piece of toast. She nibbled at it while Debbie peeled the boiled eggs for her. “Um, it’s just a pain pill, right?”
“Yes,” said Debbie. “It’s just a pain pill.”
“I remember what you said the other morning. I remember about the pills. Why did you do that? Why did you help me?”
Debbie remained silent for a few moments, as if considering how much to tell her. Finally she said, “I don’t normally work on that ward. And we don’t, we’re not . . .” Debbie stopped speaking for a moment. “What happened to you upstairs was wrong. I don’t know how it happened.”
Cara stared down at the tray of food. “Do my . . . ? Do my parents know? Did they tell the nurse to do it?”
Debbie cleared her throat. “I don’t know how to answer that. Maybe you’ll have an opportunity to ask them.”
Cara stopped nibbling on the toast. “I can’t.”
“I believe your father will be here later today,” Debbie said.
“What if I don’t want to see him? Do I have to see him?”
“No, you don’t have to see him.”
∗ ∗ ∗
Cara refused to meet with her father, preferring to remain closeted in her room. While he spoke with the doctor, she huddled on her bed, left arm hugging her knees tight to her chest. He didn’t meet with Dr. Kent.
Debbie said, “You’ve been assigned another doctor, Dr. Bowman. Do you have any questions?”
Cara shook her head. There were so many questions running through her mind that even if she’d wanted to ask something, she didn’t know where to begin.
She’d been locked in a mental hospital. A cast covered her right arm from a close encounter with a concrete sidewalk and she was covered with bruises, courtesy of the two men who had dragged her into the locked ward and stripped her clothes from her. Her ankles and her left wrist were raw from pulling against the restraints, and she had a huge purple welt above the cast where the nurse had restrained her right arm.
Try as she might, Cara couldn’t wrap her brain around the events of the past three days. Yes, she’d lied, but there had to be some other way for her parents to punish her. She reminded herself, her parents weren’t some other parents. They were her parents. Her father was a judge. He sentenced people to prison. He believed people should behave in a certain way. In his world things were black and white. You were wrong or you were right. He didn’t allow for shades of gray.
Despite that, Cara knew he loved her. She wasn’t quite sure how she knew, she just did. What she couldn’t understand was why he let something like this to happen to her. Why did he give his permission for this? How could her own father let them hurt her like this?
Her mother was another story. She could barely stand to be in the same house with Cara. Sometimes it seemed it seemed to Cara like her
Cara looked at him through narrowed eyes. “I thought I was supposed to see another doctor,” she said, rubbing her sore throat with her left hand.
“Dr. Kent,” he replied. “He’s not here right now.”
Cara couldn’t think of anything to say. She was too tired for questions. Besides, she wasn’t certain she wanted to hear any of the answers. Cara collapsed back onto the pillow and shut her eyes. It seemed as if only a few seconds had elapsed before Debbie was shaking her again.
“Cara, wake up. You’ve been asleep for nearly an hour. C’mon, sit up. I brought you toast and a couple of boiled eggs and some fruit. You need to eat right now.”
Debbie helped Cara to sit at the edge of the bed, pulling a bedside table over. A tray of food sat on it. An involuntary groan escaped Cara’s lips as she moved into a sitting position.
“Does your arm hurt?”
“Everything hurts.”
“I know,” Debbie said. “We’ll try to make it better after you eat. I have a pain pill for you, but I want you to have something in your stomach first.”
Using her left hand, Cara reached for a piece of toast. She nibbled at it while Debbie peeled the boiled eggs for her. “Um, it’s just a pain pill, right?”
“Yes,” said Debbie. “It’s just a pain pill.”
“I remember what you said the other morning. I remember about the pills. Why did you do that? Why did you help me?”
Debbie remained silent for a few moments, as if considering how much to tell her. Finally she said, “I don’t normally work on that ward. And we don’t, we’re not . . .” Debbie stopped speaking for a moment. “What happened to you upstairs was wrong. I don’t know how it happened.”
Cara stared down at the tray of food. “Do my . . . ? Do my parents know? Did they tell the nurse to do it?”
Debbie cleared her throat. “I don’t know how to answer that. Maybe you’ll have an opportunity to ask them.”
Cara stopped nibbling on the toast. “I can’t.”
“I believe your father will be here later today,” Debbie said.
“What if I don’t want to see him? Do I have to see him?”
“No, you don’t have to see him.”
∗ ∗ ∗
Cara refused to meet with her father, preferring to remain closeted in her room. While he spoke with the doctor, she huddled on her bed, left arm hugging her knees tight to her chest. He didn’t meet with Dr. Kent.
Debbie said, “You’ve been assigned another doctor, Dr. Bowman. Do you have any questions?”
Cara shook her head. There were so many questions running through her mind that even if she’d wanted to ask something, she didn’t know where to begin.
She’d been locked in a mental hospital. A cast covered her right arm from a close encounter with a concrete sidewalk and she was covered with bruises, courtesy of the two men who had dragged her into the locked ward and stripped her clothes from her. Her ankles and her left wrist were raw from pulling against the restraints, and she had a huge purple welt above the cast where the nurse had restrained her right arm.
Try as she might, Cara couldn’t wrap her brain around the events of the past three days. Yes, she’d lied, but there had to be some other way for her parents to punish her. She reminded herself, her parents weren’t some other parents. They were her parents. Her father was a judge. He sentenced people to prison. He believed people should behave in a certain way. In his world things were black and white. You were wrong or you were right. He didn’t allow for shades of gray.
Despite that, Cara knew he loved her. She wasn’t quite sure how she knew, she just did. What she couldn’t understand was why he let something like this to happen to her. Why did he give his permission for this? How could her own father let them hurt her like this?
Her mother was another story. She could barely stand to be in the same house with Cara. Sometimes it seemed it seemed to Cara like her
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