Page 96 of Her Dom's Secret Past

“You need to eat mushy stuff for a few days. Pour on the milk. It will be fine.”

She grumbled at me, “It’s all right for you, you like them.”

I smothered my smile as she angrily slopped the milk onto the two wheat biscuits in the bowl, covering them completely.

“They didn’t give me enough sugar. There’s only two for my tea.”

She sounded like a little five-year-old having a cranky attack and I couldn’t help it—I laughed. “Would you like me to get you more sugar?”

“Can you?”

She finally gave me a smile as I stood. I grabbed half a dozen packets from the visitor lounge and took them back to her. Contented, she ate the cereal and drank the tea. I was relieved to see she ate without too much pain.

I studied her beautiful face. One eye had now closed but the other didn’t appear as bad, although it was swollen, red, and bloodshot. The nurses had been putting drops in them both. The swelling on her face looked extremely painful and the bruising was now striking. The dried blood on her had turned black, adding to my pain of knowing this was my fault. Anabelle pushed the over-bed table away and sighed.

“They really are dead, aren’t they? You didn’t merely tell me that to make me happy?”

“No, sweetheart, honestly they are dead. None of them can ever hurt you again.”

She was silent for a long while. “I was terrified. I knew they would kill me, but why did they have to do the things they did to hurt me?”

“They’re simply cruel, sadistic bastards, Ana, they enjoyed it.”

“I kept telling them I didn’t know anyone by the name they kept asking about and I didn’t but they…”

I could see her beginning to get frantic again and wanted to ease her mind but how could I? How could I take away her pain, her fear?

“Even if you had cooperated, they still would have hurt you, sweetheart. That’s how they got their kicks.”

There was silence as she digested this. I had to let her come to terms with things, and there was nothing else I could do. Finally, she nodded a little as if satisfied within herself and looked more at ease.

About a half an hour later, close to nine-fifteen, a woman came in, pushing a portable ultrasound machine.

“Sorry, Miss Rowley, is it?”

“Yes.”

“I have to do another ultrasound on your tummy to check the bleeding.”

“Okay.”

I stood and paced while it was done and paced some more when she left. Ten minutes later, a doctor came in.

“Good morning, Miss Rowley. May I call you Anabelle?”

She nodded.

“My name is Prashant. I’m one of the doctors on this floor today. I’ve just reviewed your ultrasound. The bleeding appears to have stopped, but we’ll do another ultrasound tonight to check.”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to examine you. I’ll be as gentle as possible.”

He went over Anabelle’s body with a fine-toothed comb, muttering to himself softly all the while. Finally, he straightened, nodded, and spoke. “I’m happy with everything. We’ll keep up the intravenous antibiotics until tonight. The swelling and bruising will settle, although the bruises will get worse before they get better. The burns will heal with the ointment. Did the cosmetic surgeon explain about your face?”

“Yes,” she said.

“Your ribs will take about six weeks to heal. You’ll find it uncomfortable for the first few weeks. Those stitches in your foot can come out in a fortnight. Any questions?”

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