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A tear slid down my face as I closed my eyes. When did I start crying? “Mara.”
“Hi, Mara, my name is Beatrice. I’m here with my colleague Carlos, and we’re just going to check you out, okay?”
Another tear escaped. I couldn’t bring myself to answer her, knowing if I opened my mouth I would likely let out a sob. The shock of this whole ordeal must have been wearing off, because suddenly my head pulsed harder and I felt like I might actually break.
Taking my silence as acceptance, gloved hands began to lightly prod against my face and head as Beatrice and Carlos made vocal observations that I had no interest listening to. Carlos worked to gather my vitals while Beatrice focused on my head wound, and I curled into myself, shielding my mind from everything that was happening, from everything that had happened tonight.
It was a defense mechanism I knew all too well—my therapist once explained that in the face of trauma, some people responded by disappearing inside of themselves, disassociating from the reality of their external environment. It was how I navigated the agony I faced at the end of my relationship with Seth, and it was easy to slip back into now.
“Mara, can you tell me what day it is?” Beatrice asked.
“Saturday,” I replied. “Saturday night.”
“Good. On a scale between one and ten, how would you describe your current pain level?”
“I’m fine.” The words carried a lot less fervor than they had with Leo, but I was so damn tired. I didn’t want to fight anymore.
“Okay. Can you define it with a number?” Her fingers pressed against the nape of my neck, feeling for any cause for concern.
I thought about that—it wasn’t my first time being hit, and it was far from the worst. “Six,” I responded, numbly.
“Good.” Beatrice seemed satisfied. “I can see obvious signs of a cerebral edema on your right temple, which means there’s some swelling. It would be wise to have you seen at the hospital to ensure there isn’t any trauma to your brain. We have an ambulance outside and can take you there now.”
“No,” I begged as my eyes opened, concentrating with fuzzy clarity on the woman’s face. “Please, I just want to go home. Can I please go home?”
“Our recommendation would be to keep you under observation. It’s likely you have a concussion, and there is a risk that further issues may develop over the course of the next twenty-four hours. If you don’t want to be seen at a hospital, you should at least have someone keep an eye on you.”
My gaze moved to where Leo stood behind her, his dark clothes a stark contrast against pale pink walls. I couldn’t quite make out his face, but I could sense him shifting on his feet. “I’ll stay with her.”
Beatrice turned around. “What’s your relationship with Mara?” I didn’t miss the scrutiny in her question. I’d just been attacked after all—I appreciated her concern for my safety.
But I spoke before Leo could get a word out. “He’s my boyfriend.” I knew I might regret the words, but it was a much better alternative to a hospital bed.
Frank coughed from the doorway.
Beatrice nodded. “All right.” She continued to speak, giving Leo careful instructions—but I tuned it all out as I settled into myself. Soon, Beatrice and Carlos were gathering their things, content to release me into Leo’s care. “Let’s make sure you feel okay on your feet,” Beatrice said as she held a hand out. I took it, and she eased me to my feet. The transition to an upright position came with a jolt of dizziness, but I focused on keeping my spine straight as I stood. “How does that feel?”
I nodded once, feeling the throb of pain at the center of my forehead now. “I’m okay,” I insisted.
A hand pressed lightly against my back as another wrapped around my elbow. “I’ve got it from here,” Leo assured.
As we slowly walked down the hallway, I realized that all of the club’s house lights had been turned on, and the bright white of them was like a hammer to my head. I squinted through the pain, moving unsteadily as I leaned into Leo’s firm hold. The club had been cleared out—only a small cluster of police officers stood in wait for an update from the medical team with looks of stern yet hopeful appraisal on their faces.
“Mara!” a voice shrieked from my left. I turned and found that Charlea was still here, a truth that pierced me right in the chest.
She’d cared enough to stay.
“Charlea?”
She flung herself toward me as Leo’s hold on me tightened. “Easy,” he instructed gently.
“Is she okay?” Charlea asked him, her voice riddled with worry as she refrained from flinging her arms around me.
“I’m okay.” I attempted to crack a smile and continued: “You should see the other guy.”
“I was so scared, Mara. I saw you jump over the bar and run, and then we all heard screaming . . .”
“I’m okay,” I repeated, dipping my head slightly. “Just a little banged up, but nothing I can’t handle. I promise.”
