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“There are more tests we should conduct now that you’re awake.” Her voice stays assured but warm. It’s not too sweet, but it isn’t rude. “Tests that we couldn’t do without your consent.”
“I wasn’t raped,” I snap a little too quickly.
Even though she can read me, she still stays professional. She nods and throws another attempt. “Even for anything that isn’t recent. A test kit could show if there were tears in the past, any scarring…”
“I just told you I wasn’t raped, Doctor.” My raspy voice is a little darker now.
“And I heard you.” She is not in the slightest way put off by my rudeness. She must have seen it all. “Just know you can change your mind. Two years is a long time with a kidnapper, Miss White. No matter what steps you’re going to go through from now on, you can come to me at any point. I will do my best, medically, to help you.”
“When did you say my brother will get here?” I change the subject. I want more information.
“We managed to contact him as soon as we understood who you were. The gentleman who brought you to the hospital explained it all once you were out of surgery. It was only an hour ago.”
Right.
“Who was it? The ‘gentleman who brought me to the hospital’?”
“Nameless and gone, but we have video surveillance. The police can find him if you think he’s your kidnapper.”
Every time she says that word, my entire body cringes.Kidnapper.
Like I’m some poor little girl who got grabbed on her way to school. Like I’m a naïve victim who never expected this to happen to her.
I grew up with a foster dad who was the head of one of the biggest Italian crime organizations in the U.S. I shot my older brother to escape hell at age fourteen.
I killed Vladimir Volkov.
And then his sons took me as revenge.
They weren’t kidnappers and I wasn’t a victim. They were criminals settling a vengeance against their enemies.
Collateral damage.That’s what I am.
“It wasn’t him,” I tell her, so she’ll stop talking about it. This is all pointless. If Viktor and Aleksei Volkov want me back, they’ll come get me. And I’ll politely go with them. I just want to see my brother before that happens.
“I won’t get into it with you, Miss White. It’s not my job, it’s the FBI’s. My job is to keep you alive. That starts with asking if you’re feeling well enough to see the two officers waiting outside the room and the hospital therapist.”
The two officers…shit, this isn’t good.
“Sure,” I nod. I can’t hesitate, it’ll look weird.
She administers something for the pain and does some quick tests before letting the agents in.
One man. One woman.
For someone who fucking hates explaining herself, I’m in for a great time. God, I hate officials. I hate suit-wearing people. I hate dickheads who pretend they’re here to help and end up letting you down in the shittiest way possible.
Police. Caseworkers. School principals. All that crap.
“Miss White,” the woman says. She’s got that no-bullshit way about her—the kind women who had to go through hell to get where they are have. “I’m Detective Turner, and this is Special Agent Nelson. How are you feeling? I hope you’re recuperating well.”
“It’s been a few hours, I’m sure you can imagine.”
She comes to stand by my side as Agent Nelson takes the chair by the door.
“I must apologize, this is very fast, and it can be difficult. But the fresher your memory is, the better.”
She could come back next year, and I would still remember them as plainly as now.
