Page 72 of Don't Puck Up

The police had been and gone, and I’d given my statement. They’d watched Trixie’s video and confirmed it corroborated our story, not the one Chris’s father and brothers had given of Chris throwing the first punch and his brothers having to wrestle him off his father. I was appalled. I wanted them charged. I wanted the fucking book thrown at them.

Powerlessness washed over me. I hadn’t been able to stop them from hurting him. I could have lost him. One kick in the wrong spot, and they could have killed him. I swallowed down a sob and reached for my cell phone with shaking hands. Chris had done it. He’d told his parents, and we’d agreed to call V after we left their house. I needed him. I just prayed he picked up.

I clicked on his contact and hit Call. His phone rang and rang, then switched over to a message service. I let out a choked sob and said, “V, I need you. So does Chris. Please call me.”

I hung up, and only a moment later my cell phone rang. “Kam? Sweet thing, what’s wrong?”

“Everything.” My tears started flowing again, and I cried uncontrollably. “It’s Chris. He’s in the hospital.”

“Is he okay?”

“He’s hurt. They hurt him.”

“Kamirah, listen to me. I need to know this. Is he going to survive?”

“Yeah. But they hurt him. They hit him and kicked him.”

“Where are you, sweet thing? Which hospital? I’m coming.”

Relief hit me, and I sagged into the hard plastic chair. He hadn’t hesitated. He hadn’t told me no. “Boston General.”

There was a pause. “Boston General as in Boston, Massachusetts?” he asked gently.

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Oh Chris, what have you done?” he murmured. I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could say a word, V vowed, “I'm coming. I’ll be there as soon as I can, Kamirah. I promise. You aren’t alone.”

“Thank you.” He hung up, and I closed my eyes and rested my head against the cream wall, more tears falling.

I didn’t know how long I sat there before I heard, “Mrs. Minns?”

I opened my eyes to see the doctor who’d seen Chris sitting next to me. She had long, dark hair pulled into a ponytail, her stethoscope hooked around her neck, and her blue-green scrubs covered by a white lab coat. “I’m Dr. Reeves. We’ve finished examining your husband. He’s getting settled in a room. We’re going to keep him for a few days for observation.”

“Is he okay?” I asked.

“He’s pretty banged up. He has two fractured ribs and an orbital floor fracture—a cracked eye socket,” she clarified, pointing to the spot below her eye. “He has a boot-shaped bruise on his upper leg and lower abdomen, but thankfully they missed his groin. He has multiple bruises on his torso and legs and a few minor lacerations to his face. The one on his cheek needed a stitch to close it.”

I choked out another sob and held my head as the headache that had been building all day ground into my brain.

“Were you hurt, Mrs. Minns?”

“No. They stopped hitting and kicking him as soon as I managed to get to him.”

She patted my hand and gave me a sympathetic smile. “You were very brave to step in and try to stop the fight.”

I shook my head, my raspy voice emphatic when I shot back, “There was no fight. He was beaten black-and-blue by his father and brothers. He didn’t provoke them. He didn’t throw a single punch. He didn’t even raise his voice.” I sucked back a breath and dashed my tears away, my hands shaking and my head pounding. “All he did was tell them he’s bi. They lost it. They hit him and kicked him until his bones broke in the name of their fucked-up god. Chris didn’t even lift a finger to defend himself. He didn’t deserve this. This wasn’t some drunken fight.”

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Minns.” She shook her head, her eyes filled with pity. “I can take you back to see him now.”

“Please.”

I walked down the linoleum corridor with the doctor, and my breath caught when I saw Chris lying on white sheets, a blue striped blanket covering him and his head resting on a pillow. He was facing away from me, but I could see the bruises forming on his jaw. I choked out another sob, and he turned his face slowly.

He held out his hand to me, and I moved woodenly toward him. Every muscle in my body ached, exhaustion and heartbreak draining my energy levels to zero. I wanted to curl up on the bed with him and sleep, but I didn’t dare.

“Baby, I’m so sorry for worrying you,” he murmured.

“Are you in pain? Can I get you anything?” I curled my hands around his, unsure whether I would hurt him if I touched him anywhere else.