Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 22751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 114(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 114(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 76(@300wpm)
“I didn’t say I was punched.” She sounds defensive, and again I have to push memories of her mother out of my mind.
“The pattern of the bruise shows three knuckles,” I say calmly and without judgment. “If you hit your head, I can get you a scan to check for swelling in your brain.”
“No,” she says quickly, and then her shoulders sag. “I went to my knees.”
My stomach twists again at the thought of Boris Walton putting his fist in her face. He’s not as tall as I am, but he probably weighs twice as much as she does.
“Can I see your wrists?” I look down at her hands in her lap where she’s got the sleeves of her sweatshirt balled in her fists. “I won’t touch you, I just want to check on the bruising.”
If she wonders how I know there are bruises on her wrists, she doesn’t ask. Instead, she silently pushes the sleeves of her sweatshirt up her arms and reveals several bruises on both. Some are weeks old, some only a few days. Two are as fresh as the bruise on her eye. Exactly the way her mother’s were.
It takes all of my control to stay professional. “Turn your hands over, palms down please.” When she does, I see there are no defensive wounds on her knuckles. I have to take a deep breath to calm myself because that means she didn't have the chance to fight back. “Were you struck anywhere else?”
She shakes her head, and although I’d like to examine all of her to check for broken ribs, she seemed to walk fine on her own and even climbed on the exam table without pain. Kate’s mother didn’t experience those kinds of injuries until later, but I don’t know how long the abuse has been going on. I have to assume it’s since her mother died.
“Can I ask you a few questions about your medical history?” I say, trying to stay on track.
“I guess.” Her sharp eyes stay on me as I take a step back from her. It’s clear she wants space right now.
“Are you on any medication?”
“No, I’m not on anything.”
“Birth control?” Most of the women here are on something, but Kate shakes her head and looks away from me. “Any chance you could be pregnant? We have tests here, and you can take it back to your room for privacy if—”
“No.” She gives her answer with finality as she looks at me quickly and then down at her hands.
“Okay,” I tell her, not pushing the issue. “I think that’s enough of a quick assessment for now. You’ve got a bruise on your cornea, but generally they heal on their own within twenty-four hours. The injury to your face will take a little longer. It appears minor, but without a CT scan, I can’t rule out brain injury. I’d like to see you tomorrow to check you again.”
She hesitates before her eyes cut to the door. She looks like she’s about to run out of here any second.
“Miss Walton,” I say, getting her attention.
“Kate,” she corrects, and I nod.
“Kate, I know you don’t know me, but I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have the safety of the women at Farrow Haven as my top priority.”
There’s a knock on the door, and it’s Cora letting us know our time is up.
“Are you sure about that?” Kate says cryptically as she gets off the exam table and walks out of the room.
CHAPTER
THREE
KATE
My hands shake as I scroll down through the article. I anticipated that my father would eventually reach out to the press. I guess I had a small hope that he wouldn't or that it would be a few weeks.
It does, however, make me believe that Dr. Lovell didn’t tell my father anything. Otherwise he would have shown up here days ago. The more time that passes, the quieter it’s become, and I’ve started to relax. My bruises are fading, but I know I can’t stay. Leaving here is my only option. The clock is already ticking down to the time that he finds out that I'm here.
My face has been all over the news this morning. I'm not sure anyone here has noticed yet, but it's only a matter of time. The girls here have been so sweet, and I don't think anyone would out me, but I can’t be too careful. My father has already offered a reward for any information, and money makes people do bad things.
When he figures out where I am, he and the press might show up. The girls here don't need that. My father can be vindictive, and he wouldn't stop until he had this place shut down and leveled. I'm not putting everyone here at risk.
For once, my father stayed true to his word and told the press that he's worried about my safety because of my mental state. He said that since losing my mother, I've become depressed and irrational. He all but implied that I've lost my mind and have been making up ludicrous stories. He’s laying the groundwork that he needs to put me away. In the interview, his eyes were filled with tears, which I know were fake. The man really can put on a performance.