Page 9 of Kings & Queen

The throbbing in my head and the warm trickle let me know I’d hit it hard. Maybe I could take a little nap and then start again? I looked up and realized I’d fallen pretty far. I couldn’t see the road from where I was. Moving closer to a hollowed-out area in the ground, I rolled into a ball and began singing to myself. Soon, my eyes grew heavy, and I closed them.

“What is it, Samuel?”

“Abigail, you stay right there.”

Had I gone crazy? Birds chirped, and voices floated in the breeze, filling my head with noise. I cracked my eyes open and nearly sobbed as an elderly gentleman came into focus. He gasped and stepped back.

“Help me, please?” I whispered. My voice felt scratchy, and I was so thirsty.

“Abby, dial 999,” he yelled, and I closed my eyes again. Somewhere in my brain, it registered that he sounded British, and the numbers made sense.

The next time my eyes fluttered open, I was in the back of an ambulance. Panic surged through me, electrifying my senses, and I instinctively lashed out,resisting the care of the paramedic. Fear and confusion intertwined, transforming my ability to think clearly.

“It’s okay, Miss, you’re going to hospital. Everything is going to be okay.”

Filth clung to me. The shirt had dried and was stuck to my skin. Disoriented, my mind clouded, I continued to struggle.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

It was the first of what would be a thousand never-ending questions. Ones I had no desire to answer. Darkness consumed every part of my brain. I wanted to sleep and never wake.

Later at the hospital, they tried again. Numbness had set in, and when they removed my T-shirt and replaced it with a clean robe, tears flew down my cheeks. I was both relieved to be rid of the offensive material and sad that Ivan was gone forever.

“Miss, I know this is difficult.” A nurse took one of my hands and scraped under my fingernails. “But we need to do a full examination, rape kit, and to photograph you. Do you consent?”

Seeking refuge within the depths of my mind, I retreated and tuned out their voices, distancing myself from their prying gazes. I just wanted them to leave me alone, but they wouldn’t stop.

They removed the gown, exposing my body and the various marks I had. A surge of shame consumed me. And then the blinding flash of the camera triggered a haunting memory, unearthing the time when the Collector had snuck into my room and photographed me. That led to me thinking about the more recent ones the Russian man said he took.

Unable to suppress my visceral reaction, I was overcome by a wave of distress. Yet they continued to take pictures. With each flash of the camera, my panic grew. The simple sound rekindled every agonizing moment of torture I had endured, causing me to recoil. The lines between the past and present blurred.

“So pretty. Smile for me.”

The echoes of his voice, along with the memory of his hands brushing my skin, had me losing it entirely.

“No,” I screamed.

Grabbing the medical tray, I threw the contents to the floor with a clatter of noise. Holding it like a weapon, I must have looked crazed. A nurse approached me, a needle in her hand, but her face swam until it became that of the Mask. The sight of it, combined with my confused thoughts, paralyzed me.

I guess I should add needles to my list of items that make me freeze.

“No, please. I’ll be a good girl,” I cried, before everything went dark.

“Miss?” The doctor’s voicegrew stronger as the sedative they gave me wore off. “Miss, we completed the exam. But I need to ask you a few questions about the marks on your body.”

I ignored him, fixating on the too-bright light above me. My mouth was dry. The sheet scratched against my skin, and suddenly I was aware of how much of me they’d seen.

“It looks like someone took a blade to you. Do you remember what happened? Can you tell me?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Heat flushed up my neck, blooming across my face, and I pulled the blanket tighter around me, as if it could hide it all. Every mark, every cut and bruise—they’d seen it. Cataloged it. Shame hollowed out my chest, sharp and unrelenting, leaving me raw and too visible.

I closed my eyes as sobs escaped. Two of the cuts, the ones to my body, were from Ivan. The other my own doing. My pussy was still sore, and I was terrified that maybe the man raped me while I was unconscious. I had no idea how much time had passed; hell, I didn’t even know what day it was. Next she asked about the hickeys on the top of my vagina and the one on my ass.

“Miss, please. These marks are very fresh, and it’s clear you’ve been hurt. We really need you to tell us what happened. We’re trying to establish a timeline.”

I remembered the man’s words from before about waiting and relaxed. Knowing he didn’t violate me and that the soreness was from being with my Kings had a sense of peace settling over me.

But her persistent questioning messed with my fragile state and pushed me further into the recesses of my mind. Seeking solace from her prying gaze, I instinctively rolled away and maintained my silence.