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He began to cry.
“What happened, Mary? Who did this?”
She did not reply. She pulled the scarf back over her face, rolled back over into the fetal position, and continued to sob.
Bayer attempted to softly stroke her back to console her, but when he did she made a strong reflex and he guessed that she had been beaten on her back, too.
He stood up and anxiously paced the room.
“I’ve got to get you to a hospital.”
Mary shook her head twice and grunted, “Uh-uh.”
Bayer thought, Christ, she’s right. I can’t take her. If they started asking me questions, they might think that I did this.
And even if they don’t, they will ask who I am, and that’s a question I can’t afford to answer….
He checked her over cautiously.
After he had determined to the best of his ability that she did not seem to have any life-threatening injuries—he was relieved, too, to see that she hadn’t lost any teeth—he went in the bathroom, ran cold water in the sink, and soaked a hand towel in it. He wrung out the excess water and went back to the bed.
“Here. Let me try to clean up some of this.”
She didn’t move at first, but after a moment she slowly rolled onto her back.
He pulled back the scarf, then removed it from her head entirely, tossing it to the side of the bed. He began to softly dab at the dried blood on her lip, taking care not to reopen the wound.
When that blood was cleared, he refolded the towel to make a clean area, then moved to her nostrils and worked to clear them of the caked blood.
When the hand towel had turned completely red, he went back into the bathroom, rinsed it out, wet a second one, then took both of them to Mary.
He folded the fresh towel lengthwise and draped it across her forehead. Then he took the towel that he had rinsed and went back to softening the dried blood and dabbing it off.
A half hour later, Bayer carefully began undressing Mary.
He removed her coat, then unbuttoned her blouse and pulled it back.
The bruises across her belly and back almost made him nauseated.
He helped her into the bathroom and into the shower, then gently dried her with a towel and put her in bed.
Then he pulled up a chair, turned on some soft music, and gently stroked her hair until she fell into a deep sleep.
When Bayer awoke the next morning, Mary was curled under the covers with only her head visible. She was looking at him with her one good eye.
She tried to smile but the effort clearly hurt her.
“Good morning,” Bayer asked softly. “How do you feel?”
She shook her head twice slowly.
“Can I get you anything?”
She shook her head again.
“Are you going to be all right?”
She nodded.
