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“Gabby!” her mother shouted spying her from across the room. “Oh baby,” she cried rushing over to her.
“What happened, Gabs?” her brother Nate asked.
“The cab driver…” she said acting a bit spacey knowing she was in for it now.
“Someone needs to pay the cab driver?” her oldest brother Sam guessed. “I got it,” he stated hurrying by kissing her head as he went.
“Gabby,” Wyatt said concerned, “where have you been?”
“I don’t know…” she lied, what was one more in the long list of them.
“I think she needs to see a doctor,” her sister Viola said gently brushing her hair aside to reveal the large bruise on the side of her face.
“That’s a good idea,” Joan agreed.
“No,” Gabby said shaking her head wincing at the slight pain that still accompanied the movement.
“No?” Wyatt demanded. “You’re swaying Gabby,” he added when she felt her head swim and she accepted his help to sit down. “What happened, honey?”
“I don’t remember,” she told them.
“That’s it,” he said scooping her up. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”
“I don’t want to go,” she argued.
“Too bad, for once in your life Gabby, listen to someone other than yourself,” Sam argued.
That was how she found herself lying in a hospital bed with nurses and doctors, police, and her extended family waiting anxiously for answers. She knew she couldn’t tell them the truth no matter how badly she wanted to so she lied, yet again.
“The car got a flat,” she said to the officer taking her statement. “I’ve changed them before but the jack slipped, at least I think it slipped, the next thing I knew someone slammed my head against the side of the car. When I came to, it was getting dark, and I didn’t know where I was.”
“Why didn’t you call me?” Wyatt asked with sincerity.
“I didn’t have my phone…I hailed a cab and gave him our address, and that’s all I remember,” she stated, leaving out the part where she hid her second phone in the bushes outside the house when she noticed the cop cars in the drive.
The doctor reappeared and Wyatt demanded to know if she was okay.
“A concussion and some bruised ribs,” he assured him. “We can keep her overnight for observation if it would make you feel better Mr. Isaacs.”
“No,” Gabby said.
“Gabby, you’re staying,” Wyatt told her.
“No,” she repeated. “Wyatt please, I just want to go home and sleep in my own bed.”
“Okay,” he said returning to her side and smoothing her hair back. “I’m sorry Gabby.”
“It wasn’t your foot kicking me in the ribs,” she stated once they were alone.
“Gabby, you didn’t tell the police that…”
“I didn’t remember it, Wyatt, don’t please. I don’t want to relive it.”
“Gabby, did…they didn’t…you weren’t…”
“I wasn’t raped,” she said softly, “that much I know without having to remember everything else.”
“How do you know?” he asked.
