Humpty Dumpty

I stand beside a long, pale blue door. The tiny window etched at eye level is trimmed in black with a gate attached to the other side and a mail slot underneath. A security guard is checking my belongings. When I'm cleared to pass the checkpoint I walk the long echoing hallway to a door, the exact same one as before. I peer in. The walls are padded; like a bunch of oversized mattresses have just been propped up against the underlying plaster. There's a single bed and one nightstand. No lamps, no windows, no light. A woman's hands and feet are shackled to the metal frame. Her hair hasn't been washed in months. She wears a white, scrub-like uniform, with socks. She's awake, starring; only blinking when her eyes become stale. I haven't seen her since they transferred her to this room. No one else has come to see her. She's alone. Always alone.

An orderly buzzes the door open and I walk in, hands in my pockets. I don't know what else to do with them. I've been here many times before and still this place gives me the creeps, the heebie jeebies, whatever else you'd like to call them. I can leave when visiting hours end. I can't imagine what it's like to be locked away here day in and day out. I pull the rickety chair from the corner and place it next to her. I reach out and touch her hand. She doesn't flinch, she doesn't look at me, she doesn't move. I grip her fingers and silently beg for her to squeeze them back. The request falls on deaf ears. I stroke her hair and it feels oily and dirty. Her wrists are red and chapped, the tough leather cuffs have been ripping into her fair skin. No one's bothered to take care of her.

I find an idle nurse at the desk and ask for a change of clothes, a few towels, a brush and some shampoo. The nurse asks what room; I tell her. She's sympathetic, just barely. I get into a little verbal scuffle with the woman and I win in the end. "If you're not going to take care of her, then I will." I head back in and Nurse Betty drops the stuff I asked for on the bed and walks away. I mumble somewhat of a thank you; not really meaning it, but I was taught manners and it's always polite to say thank you when you receive something you've asked for.

I gently peel the leather from her wrists, a few scabs pull away and I wince, but she does not. I move to her feet and do the same. The rings around her ankles and wrists are purple and wet. I pick her up and she's limp. She hasn't been eating much either. I take her to the bathroom and fill the tub with warm water and some soap. I pull her free of her clothes and slip her into the warm, bubbly water. I see a flicker of relief and then nothing. I dip her head back into the water and I lather the shampoo and pile the wet hair onto her head to allow the soap to sink in. I dig a washcloth out of the pile and soap it up and begin to wash. I'll tell her, her story.

You're probably wondering who we are and how we got to where we are now. I guess now is a good time as any to let you in. My name is Ethan Lovett and I'll tell you exactly how Kristina Davis became the broken woman she is now.

The storm wasn't letting up for anyone. The rain was coming down in waves and people on the road were pulling over and finding shelter where they could. I would be out too, but I got cancelled on by the good doctor, Maya Ward. So, instead I'm home, in bed sulking. I hear my phone ringing somewhere and I throw some things around 'til I find it in a shoe. I'm hopeful. I turn it over; maybe not so hopeful now. Unless my brother is asking me out. Creepy.

"Ethan, it's Kristina. She's at the hospital," I'm gone before I even hang up.

I'm sure I hydroplaned all the way to the hospital and I push my way through other waiting patients and make it to the ER to see the solemn faces. Alexis is hysterical, Molly and Sam are in shock. Sonny is pacing, never, ever a good sign. No one is paying attention. I slip into the room and my stomach coils at the sight. Kristina's body is beaten so bad, she's hardly recognizable. Her arms are black and blue, her face is swollen, a sick shade of purple and red. There's IV's, monitors and a respirator hooked up. Her body looks crowded and small with everything on top of her. "What the fuck?" She looks like she's been hit and dragged by a bus.

I hear footsteps behind me and look to see Lucky and Dante. Dante can't even look at his little sister. I don't blame him. I ask Lucky what happened.

"Melinda Bauer is what happened. We found Kristina's body in the water, face down. A witness saw a woman dragging something on the pier. Gave a very good description. We found Mrs. Bauer in the parking lot, her car still running. 'I got the dragging part right.' Lucky goes on to say that Mrs. Bauer attacked Kristina with a wooden bat. 'That explains the splinters.' The bat did all the work and I swear I hear him say something about Kristina being sexually assaulted as well. I can't even imagine how a human being can be so disgusting and so violent. Dante had left well before the notion of his little sister being violated in the sickest way possible. The machines go awry and Kristina thrashes on the bed, she's having a seizure.

I stay with her the night. I leave once to get some coffee to help keep me awake. In the cafeteria I see Maya flirting with another intern and I don't even care. She looks my way and I raise my cup to her and walk away. Now I know why she canceled. I come back to Kristina in the middle of another seizure, the fifth one in an hour. Patrick says, if this keeps up, she'll have irreversible brain damage before morning.

I stop talking when I see Kristina's hand tremor and she lifts it slightly to push away a few stray hairs from her face; but she doesn't turn towards me. She continues to stare at nothing. I let some of the water drain and fill the tub up with more hot water. I rinse her hair and lather it up once again. "Shall I continue love?"

The rest of the night was quiet, only one last seizure and I held my breath, waiting for the worst; waiting for her to flat line or her brain waves to continue seizing even though her body stops convulsing. Everything turns to normal.

By morning the seizures have stopped completely and she's taken off the ventilator. I go out to get breakfast for Molly and Alexis; I'm not so hungry. They eat quietly, jumping if there's a twitch in her finger, or her eye flutters. But nothing. This goes on for three weeks. She's in a coma. Her body too worn out to fight on its own. Patrick prepares us for the worst, while Robin tells us to stay hopeful. I'll make my own assumptions about Kristina. After all, I know her the best; nothing against Alexis or Molly or even Sam. But Krissy and I have a connection that goes well beyond the surface of friends. We can look at each other and just know. She'll fight until she can't anymore and I fear that, that time has come. But Krissy has a way of surprising everyone, including myself.

A month later, she's completely catatonic. 'Non-responsive to stimuli.' Here, but not really. She had a fit of rage once, all the while yelling, "Help me, someone help me please." And then there was nothing. I few tears rolled town her cheek, but once they dried, no more came. She was gone and no one knew where she went. Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. I like to think she went to fix herself. To put herself back together. Because, 'All Ethan's horses and all Ethan's men couldn't put Kristina back together again.'

It was tough knowing I couldn't just glue her together and let her dry for a few days.

A month and a half in the hospital and then she was transferred to the nut house. I don't mean to sound crude, but she doesn't belong there. She would occasionally have fits of rage and once almost killed her self when she was impaled by a syringe. They wrapped her in a straight jacket, right in front of Molly and her mom; they were never the same again. Now, three months in, she's been upgraded to a bed complete with shackles.

I finish rinsing her body of all remnants of soap and I gather her into my arms and wrap a towel around her before she starts to shiver. When she's dressed and her hair is combed I take her outside. Against, the staff's 'better judgment,' of course.

The air is crisp and the weather is warm. Not a cloud can be seen for miles. I try to get her to eat some jello, but she pushes the spoon away. She looks up at me and shakes her head. 'Ok, now we're getting somewhere.' I shrug and put down the tray.

"I'm not going to force you to eat love." At my pet name for her, her eyes light up and she reaches out her hand to rub it against my scruff. I hold it against my cheek. Her fingers feel warmer than they have in months. "Oh, Krissy." I close my eyes for a moment and take in the feel of her skin. When I open them she's has her face inches from mine.

"Get me out of here Ethan. Please." I laugh at her fragile plea and help her up.

"It's about time love. It's about dam time you came back." I walk her right out the front door of the nut house with a swarm of nurses chasing after. I get her in the car and I turn to the oncoming mob. "She's leaving, today. No more tests, no more poking, no more pills. She's going home, where she belongs. You have a problem with that, call Lucky Spencer. But he'll just tell you to shove it where the sun does not shine. Catch my drift?" A bold nurse steps up to challenge me.

"She needs a parent to sign her discharge papers then."

"She's over 18. She can sign herself out." That ends the debate and my car speeds off and Kristina is on her way home.

The front door is swung open wide and Molly runs up to Kristina and wraps her legs around Kris's hips. Alexis stands in the door, allowing the shock to wear off first. Mother and daughters embrace and lots of tears ensue.

Kristina disappears to change out of the hideous uniform and Molly is right behind her. I carefully approach Alexis. She wraps her arms around me in a bear hug, "How long have you been going?"

"Since the beginning. I knew how hard it was for everyone to see her the way she was. But I couldn't stay away." We both silently thank God and make our way into the house. I guess in the end, when the world forgets, love has to step up and take its place. Love is the only thing worth living for. It's usually the love that doesn't come from family. It's the love that transpires from one soul to another. Kristina knew her family's love. But her soul was empty; as was mine.

'All Kristina's horses and all Kristina's men put Ethan back together again.'

Just as

'All Ethan's horses and all Ethan's men really did put Kristina back together again.'