Page 145 of Petite Fleur

“You risked prison to prescribe me those pills; why?” She asks quietly.

I sigh heavily and reach for Abby’s hand; I’ve made it a rule not to touch my patients, but I feel this warrants more than just a smile.

“Because I don’t give a shit. If I go to prison for refusing to let my patient carry a rapist’s baby, then I go to prison.” I reassure her.

I don’t give a fuck if Texas has made it illegal; I will not sit back and watch a woman lose herself for a rapist.

“I would have helped you if he wouldn’t have.” Maeve chimes in with.

“Your support is sweet, ma fleur.” I say kindly, but I’m not sure how my sweet girl could do anything to help her aside from a hug.

“Rue, yarrow, salvia, wormwood, safflower.” Maeve rambles.

My attention turns to her, and I raise an eyebrow at my beautiful girl. “What’s that?” I ask curiously.

She shrugs innocently and keeps the towel she’s holding pressed firmly into the cut along Abby’s arm, refusing to let up on it, thankfully. “Herbs to handle little problems like that.” She admits far too casually for my liking.

What the fuck?

You know what, that’s impressive—my little psycho genius.

“Okay then, remind me never to let you go to the flower shop alone.” I tease, winking at her when she glares at me.

As much as I’d love to continue this conversation, I need to get back to what brought us here. “Tell me what happened.” I repeat for what feels like the dozenth time.

Finally, with a heartbreaking sigh and more tears, Abby explains to me what happened. She explains that at the party, the four men dragged her to the basement but that she had thought she’d seen a fifth. She explained that she ruled that out as a hallucination when she remembered that the fifth man she saw was actually gay.

She explains that this morning, she saw him while walking toward administration to ask about the possibility of enrolling in her classes again.

I’m proud of her for being ready to go back and finish her degree. I'll have to tell her that another time, but she goes on to say that this fifth man, who she thought was gay, winked at her when they made eye contact. She said it was exactly what he did that night, and that was how she knew it wasn’t made up in her mind.

“Abby, tell me who he was.” Maeve insists. I want to interrupt; I want to tell her that this isn’t how this works. She needs to talkthrough her trauma, not name her attackers, not yet, at least. It’s far too soon, and Abby is far too fragile right now.

But Abby answers. “His name is Sean Black; he’s a baseball player. I can’t go back to that school.” Abby cries, leaning into my girl so heavily that I see Maeve wince from the pressure on her piercings, but she doesn’t stop her.

No, Maeve’s face looks horrified and shocked.

Her roommate, her gay roommate, attacked a woman at a party. "Abby, who spiked your drink that night?" My girl asks calmly.

I know exactly where her train of thought is going, and honestly, my head is in the same place. "Carlie Summers." Abby says with a broken sob that makes Maeve hug her tighter.

I know that Maeve is thinking; she’s terrified that she could have been the next one. She’s scared that at any point, maybe she was one of their victims and didn't know it. She’s scared that her former roommate could have also been one of his victims or even his accomplice. I can see it on her face. I have to comfort my girl, but I have to get Abby situated first. I hate this, but I need time to think and plan, and I can’t do it if we can’t leave Abby’s side.

I step out of the bathroom, leaving Maeve with Abby while I call an ambulance. I explain my situation, who I am, and what is happening, and I also make a call to the psychiatric facility and explain that they need to expect Abby back and to have a bed ready for her.

She’s not going to like it, fuck, I don’t like it, but it has to be done.

When I come back into the bathroom, Maeve is running her hand through Abby’s hair, telling her that everything will be okay and that the universe has a way of making things right. I don’t know if my girl is being optimistic or if she’s having the same thoughts that I’m having, but it doesn’t matter either way.

Sean’s going to fucking die.

I don’t tell the two what’s happening, not until the paramedics rush in and a few nurses from the facility follow behind. Even then, I don’t explain. I don’t think I have to, but I don’t miss the look Maeve gives me while they load Abby onto the stretcher and explain to her that she’ll be staying at the facility for a while.

It’s not like I have a lot of options; the girl literally called me from the bathtub after slitting her own wrist. I can’t just leave her alone in her apartment.

Once the ambulance is gone and Maeve and I are alone in Abby’s apartment, I wipe the blood from my girl’s body and steal an outfit from Abby. It doesn’t fit. Abby is a little thicker and much taller, but it’s better than wet clothes stained with blood and old bath water.

The whole way home, my girl is pouting. She's huffing and sighing, just so I know that she’s unhappy with me. I reach for her hand, taking hers into mine even though she tries to stop me, but I won’t let her.

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