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His words shocked me. Snot was running down my face as freely as my tears, and I knew that I looked like hell. Not that I cared. Nothing mattered. “Clear me of what?”
The man walked forward. “Do you think that you are well enough to talk to me?”
He was asking me, but the question was directed to the doctor.
“She just woke up from a coma.” There was anger in my father’s tone. “You didn’t even allow me to break the news of what happened.”
The detective’s expression didn’t change. “A coma that was caused from her drug use.” His lips thinned in disgust as he looked at me. My stomach flipped. No one had ever looked at me with such hatred in their eyes before. This man had already made his mind up about me.
“My daughter is a victim—”
“We don’t know that.”
The doctor released a heavy sigh. “I am not here to argue with anyone. I need to examine Miss Moreno.”
The detective opened his mouth, but the doctor shook his head. “No,” he said. “It cannot wait.”
My father was smug. The sight of it made my stomach turn. There was no win here. “I’m going to need everyone to leave,” a nurse said. She’d walked in while my father and the detective were yelling, and none of us heard her.
For some reason, the sight of her, this older woman with a kind, soft face, set me at ease.
“I’m not leaving my daughter.” My father’s grip on me strengthened, and I tried not to wince at the pressure.
The nurse walked tentatively towards him. “We need to do a thorough examination. Your daughter might not want you in here.”
He stiffened, and I knew he wanted to argue. The idea of having some sort of examination made me scared, but I needed a moment to get myself together. My mother was dead. My brother was as well.
“I’ll be fine.”
The nurse crossed her hands over her chest. She was a small woman, but I suspected that she was not going to allow herself to be intimidated by anyone.
“I’ll be just outside.”
When the door closed, I released a sigh of relief.
“We are going to take a look at some of your bruising,” the nurse said. She walked towards me gingerly. “I won’t undress you fully, but I will have to slip the top off your gown.”
I nodded as her fingers touched me gingerly. The doctor’s eyes were trained on my chart.
“How are you feeling?”
I swallowed heavily, wishing I’d drunk the water that had been offered. My throat felt like someone had run sandpaper over it. “My throat hurts.”
The nurse pressed against my skin, and I jumped. “Sorry,” she said, giving me a soft smile. “These are healing nicely, but they are clearly still tender.”
The doctor nodded. “We had to intubate you after we pumped your stomach. That plus the crushing of your windpipe is why your throat hurts.” He jotted something down on the paper. “After you speak with the detective, we can give you something.”
Blinking, I tried to process the information he shared as the nurse redressed me. “You pumped my stomach.”
He nodded. “There was quite a cocktail of drugs in your system. We weren’t sure if you were passed out from the drugs or from the damage to your throat.”
My fingers reached up. The skin wasn’t visible to me, but the touch of my fingers to the smooth column of my throat sparked a memory. “Someone choked me.” Not just someone. The killer.
Neither the nurse nor doctor said anything. They simply continued the exam and continued asking me questions.
“You seem alright.” The doctor told me when he was done. “I don’t believe that there will be any lasting damage. Given how much oxygen you lost, we worried about long term damage to your brain.”
I nodded, not sure what else to do or say. This felt like a nightmare that I’d yet to wake up from.
