Page 53 of Unwell
Orderlies crashed into the clearing, their boots snapping twigs and their voices sharp.
Larry didn’t fight them when they dragged him from Robert’s flesh mound. He just sobbed and pleaded for me. When I didn’t go to him, acting fearful, hebellowed and thrashed. Three of them pinned him down while another drove a syringe into his thick arm.
His roars turned to sobs as the drugs pulled him under.
And just before his eyes blinked closed, his gaze caught mine.
Not rage.
Not fury.
Just heartbreak.
I turned away, bile burning my throat.
I had damned him.
And the worst part was, I did it knowingly.
As someone touched my arm, I sobbed. Not for Robert, like they all would believe, but for me.
For what they’d put me through.
THIRTY-ONE
NANCY
The woods buzzed with shouts and the thunder of boots. My false statement came out far too easily, the lies punctuated with faux sorrow. I’d cried enough over Robert for any real tears.
But when the chaos moved on, with a distinct lack of police involvement, I left them to pick up the torn pieces of Robert and headed back to the building. To see the real cause of death.
The showers hissed as I approached, as if to warn me back. Steam filled the room, and I squinted through the mist to find my Ginny.
I spotted her in the corner, Larry’s oversized shirt clinging wetly to her frame.
She sat on the tiles beneath the spray with her knees drawn tight to her chest. Despite her large stomach, she looked every bit innocent. The water sluiced pink down the drain as it carried Robert’s blood beneath the ground. Where he belonged. Each of the ten showers was on, filling the room with noise.
Her shoulders heaved as she wept.
Poor little thing.
I slipped off my apron and kicked off my shoes, joining her beneath the spray fully clothed. Within a few steps, I was soaked through. I turned off all the showers but hers. My uniform clung to my skin, but I didn’t care.
I knelt beside her and gathered her up. Her sobs fell against my neck as she lost control.
‘Shh,’ I murmured, stroking her wet hair. ‘It’s over. It’s done. He can’t hurt us any more.’
Her shoulders heaved. Our fingers entwined as she clung to me. I used my other hand to soothe her, stroking down her arms, across her back, through her sticky hair.
Her hair.
There was no shampoo, seeing as the orderlies rationed it out during scheduled showers, so I grabbed an abandoned bar of soap and worked it gently into her scalp. Her shorn strands slicked flat beneath my fingers. I massaged slow circles, lathering until suds bubbled up between my fingers. So often I’d imagined having a child to adore. To bathe and feed and cherish.Hopefully soon I would. If I could convince Marney to let me take them home.
I wished I could wash away everything. The blood, the fear, the sins.
Ginny tilted her head into my touch. Her eyes fluttered closed and the sobbing abated. My massaging fingers made her sigh.
Shifting to face me, I watched as the water cascaded down her cheeks. She took my hands and lifted them to her jaw. Such a sweet looking thing. If I hadn’t seen her drenched in Robert’s blood with my own eyes, it would have been impossible to believe.
