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Multiple hands are touching me, my neck, my wrist, my torso, head. I don’t want to be touched. “Okay, Haley, I’m going to put a cervical collar around your neck to prevent further injury until we can get you checked over.” The thought of something else touching my neck sends a chill up and down my limbs. I’d rather remain in the dark here where I can’t see what’s happening around me, so I try to ignore the plastic support tightening around me. Then another object tightens around my mouth and nose, but I feel movement of air going into my lungs. It just doesn’t seem like enough.
“Could I please come too?”
I don’t hear an answer to Willa’s question, but I feel her hand embracing mine.
No one has told me I’ll be okay. I don’t know what I look like or what state they left my body in. Is it just my neck that feels injured? Or is it more?
“Haley, could you try to open your mouth for me? Air is passing in and out of your lungs, but it might feel like it’s hard tobreathe since you have some swelling. We’re going to take good care of you.”
My heart pounds against my chest as I try to open my eyes again. Blinking fluorescent lights attack my aching eyes but I can see two blurry faces. “There you are,” the woman says.
Minutes must have gone by before the blur clears up, allowing me to see a paramedic and Willa. Tears stain Willa’s red cheeks, but she squeezes my hand a little tighter. “I’m so sorry I stepped ahead of you. I shouldn’t have left you,” she cries.
“Okay, let’s try to relax,” the paramedic says, but I’m not sure if she’s speaking to me or Willa.
The ride to the hospital doesn’t take very long but while being rushed around on a stretcher, in and out of doors and down a hallway, I wish I hadn’t opened my eyes. I don’t like hospitals. The blood—there’s always so much of it here.
“You’re going to have to wait out here for now,” someone tells Willa.
Her hand slips away from mine and I clench my eyes closed, feeling another round of panic overwhelm me.
TWENTY-ONE
SATURDAY, JUNE 10TH 11:30 PM
The plastic collar has been removed and I’m able to breathe easier now, even without the oxygen mask. I still don’t know what the damage is, and the wait is making me sick to my stomach while reclining in this hospital bed alone, staring at a closed curtain.
“Haley Vaughn,” another woman calls out as she pulls the curtain out and around her, entering the small space I’m confined within. “I’m Dr. Darcy,” she says, placing her tablet in between her arm and side. “I have good news for you. The CT scan, MRI, and blood work have all come back clean, which means the injury to your neck is superficial. You’ll likely have bruising and soreness, but no permanent damage.” The doctor seems to force a smile while staring at me and I’m not sure I understand the look on her face. I’m grateful to be okay but there’s something else she’s not saying and it’s scaring me.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice scratchy and broken as if I have laryngitis.
Dr. Darcy takes a hold of the rolling stool beneath the computer anchored to the back wall and glides it to my side before taking a seat. “Do you remember anything that happenedtonight? It appears you were strangled. You have a few welts on your cheeks and forehead too, indicating a struggle.”
“I think the person was a man—they were, uh—dressed in all black, had a mask, and pulled me off the main road.”
“It was a man?” she replies.
“I’m not a hundred percent sure. They were taller and stronger than me. The person whispered something, but I can’t remember what.” I try to clear my throat, still feeling like something is stuck around my tonsils. “That’s when they shoved me into the wall and choked me.”
“I can’t imagine how scary that must have been,” she says, resting her hand on top of mine. “I’m going to have an officer come in to speak with you before we give you discharge papers. Medically, you are fit to leave the hospital, but we want to make sure to keep you safe too.”
How many officers will I have to speak to today before something worse happens to me?
A knock on whatever is metal around me and outside of the curtain startles me. Dr. Darcy opens the curtain. “Come on in,” she says.
“Haley, I’m?—”
“Detective Straton,” I say, finishing his second introduction of the second longest night of my life this week.
“I’m glad you remember me,” he says, scratching at his eyebrow. It was only hours ago that we spoke.
“The call came in with your name, so I wanted to make sure I was the one who came down to talk to you.” He takes his cap off and holds it between his hands in front of his waist. “Haley, do you think the messages from that unknown number and the incident tonight are related?”
“It’s hard to think they weren’t related.”
“Do you remember anything this person said? If they said something.”
I try to recall what happened before everything went dark. “I’m pretty sure he said something just before he strangled me but I’m not sure what. I just remember thinking he must have been the one sending the messages.”
