Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes was all it took for my life to turn into an explosive.
After the doctor had explained the repercussions of both my surgeries, Stef had practically vowed never to take her eyes off me ever again, and while in my current state of fragility and confusion I welcome the idea, I know that having Stef on my back for the next few weeks is bound to get old. Hell, maybe she'll be the cause of my explosion.
I tried to listen as much as I could to what the middle aged man had to say, but the pain meds were beginning to take effect and drowsiness enveloped me into its warm embrace. I knew I'd fallen asleep, but I didn't anticipate how long for, or who I'd wake up to.
I peel my eyes open – the act starting to feel almost routine now as I pull myself out from the cocktail of pain relief's grogginess – only to instantly clamp them back shut when I see the figures surrounding the bed.
At first, I think it's a hallucination. Whatever they have me on must be pretty strong – after all, I did think my arm had been chopped off.
But when the voices around me quieten and the bed squeaks from loss of pressure, I know that what I saw was most definitely real.
"Callie?"
Lena's voice is soft, warm and comforting like a blanket. It's a voice that could tempt me into her arms any day, but not now. No, I'd rather go without a blanket for a week if it meant being able to fall back asleep and not having to face the room full of people that sit before me, eagerly awaiting my awakening.
The idea of seeing them terrifies me, but nothing can compare to the fear and dread that boils in my stomach at the thought of seeing Jude.
My whole time in Haven Falls, I'd been determined to see Jude, to speak to him, to get out for him. But now I can barely hold back the nausea as I anticipate the look on his face.
I don't know what they've told him; in fact, I don't know what any of the Foster siblings know about That Night two weeks ago.
But if Jude ever finds out…if he hears from somebody that I'd tried to kill myself, then I think I'd rather be dead. He'd think I'm selfish. He'd think I chose to leave him. He'd think that I thought I couldn't trust him.
He'd think that I'd rather be dead than be with him. I'd hurt him, and I'd broken the promise he'd asked me to keep our entire lives. We weren't supposed to be split up.
But he has to know, even if no one else believes me, that dying was never my intention. Suicide has never been an option, no matter how hard it gets – I could never leave Jude on his own in the system. I'd always been terrified in case Jude found out I'd been hurting myself, but I'd take that any day over him thinking I'd tried to kill myself.
All of a sudden, it's too much. For once in my life, I know I'm not going to be able to be strong for Jude – I'm not going to be able to cover this one up. And that thought terrifies me. I can feel my pulse quicken, and I know it's too late now; they'll know I'm awake, if the eye opening wasn't enough to tell them before.
I wish it was easy to channel strength. Each day I spent in Haven Falls, I felt my constant need to be strong fade away a little, and I want to curse myself for letting my guard down, for letting people into my head, because I know the only way I'll be able to get through this visit is with the walls pulled up.
It's stupid, but when you depend on this false sense of strength to get you through things in life that normal people never have to experience, it kind of feels like you've been robbed of a security blanket when that sense of control is taken away.
But no matter how hard I try, I know the walls will never go back up fully – Stef and Lena made sure of that a good few hours ago. I'd finally accepted their love and, no matter how foreign and odd it feels to say it, I secretly relish the idea.
Maybe if my walls can't get me through this visit, their love can.
"I think she's still sleeping." I hear Jesus speak, his voice sending shivers of nostalgia down my spine. It's been weeks since I've heard that voice, and I hadn't realised how much I've missed it until now.
"Maybe we should come back later…"
It's Brandon this time, and my heart lurches at his disappointment. As much as I'm in favour of Brandon's idea, I know that I can't keep hiding. I can only stay 'asleep' for so long.
I take a deep breath, not quite anticipating the pain it's going to send through my mutilated body, and summon up the courage to open my eyes. I drag them over the room, taking in the surroundings. Mariana and Jesus are sat on a chair by the side of the bed, Brandon stands at the foot of the bed, Stef by his side, and Lena and Jude are perched on the edge of the hospital bed. The room had been small before and my brain questions how on earth everyone managed to fit inside, while my visitors surround me and welcome me back into consciousness with a charade of greetings and cheers. The voices overlap each other, blending into one chorus, making it difficult to pick out just one. I try to focus on their faces, but their impeding figures surrounding me make me clam up, claustrophobia taking over.
"Guys, step back. Give her some space, come on!"
Its Stef's voice. Full on cop mode. Usually, that tone would give me shivers, but I've never been more grateful for her choice of profession than I am now.
Her request is met with a flurry of sighs and groans, and I let my eyes slip shut as I feel a hand lock with mine. "I know you're excited, but we need to at least give her a chance to wake up first, alright?" She continues, before turning round to face me. "Callie?"
I take another breath, mustering up the courage to open my eyes again. I hate that I've become so weak, so…frightened of everything. I look up, and Stef's face is close to mine, her eyes warm and inviting. "Are you alright?"
My eyes wander the room again as I contemplate my answer. Jude is hovering behind Stef, his hand clamped in Lena's tightly. I almost cry out when I see his face. His perfect, ivory skin, his ruffle of brown hair that he'd taken an interest in styling lately, another sign that my baby brother isn't that much of a baby anymore; it all brings the guilt on further.
"Callie?" Stef says again, her hand smoothing my hair, and I force my eyes from Jude and back to the blonde.
I nod my head. "Yeah. Yes, I'm fine."
It's as if this confirmation is a silent message between the two moms, because as soon as Stef's hand slips out of mine, Jude's face is in front of me, his eyes wide. He looks me over, as if he's trying to decide where is safe to touch me, and all of a sudden, I let go. I don't care about the pain that jolts up my left side, or the ache in my right shoulder, or any of the niggles and twitches that scream for my body to stop. I let the dread and anxiety of Jude's reaction to That Night dissipate to the back of my mind, where I can deal with it later.
But right now, I pull my brother into my arms and cling to him for dear life. My eyes close as I feel him return the hug, his small hands wrapping tenderly around my torso. "I'm here, baby. I'm so sorry," I murmur into his ear, pulling back and examining his face. "I'm so, so sorry. Everything will be okay now." I run my hands through his hair, his scent bringing tears to my eyes.
"I love you, Callie," he whispers, and I watch as his eyes brim over.
"Baby, don't cry. Please." I bring my thumb to his cheek, wiping away the tears that roll down his soft, innocent skin. "I love you so much Jude, and I promise I'll never leave you again."
Out of habit, I find myself searching his body, running my hands over his small limbs, checking for bashes or bruises. I know he is safe with the Fosters, and I know no harm could ever come to him there, but even when I feel Stef stiffen beside me and Lena's breath hitch, I can't bring myself to stop the words spilling from my mouth, "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
The pain is evident on Lena's face, but I don't let the guilt bother me yet – that can wait in the corner of my mind for later, too. Jude looks at me, almost angry at first, and I can tell our moment is over. "I'm fine, Callie," he says roughly, as he pulls out of my grip and walks over towards the twins, who are looking at something on Jesus's cell phone.
The rejection hurts more than I'd anticipated. I know I shouldn't have said that – the looks on the moms face told me just as much – but after everything that's happened throughout our lives, I had to know he was okay. It almost feels like a knife is being stabbed through my heart as I watch Jude slide onto Mariana's lap, his mouth curving upwards as he sees what they're looking at.
He doesn't need you anymore. He has a new family now, that you're not part of. There's obviously been lots of changes since you've been away and he doesn't need you anymore. She's a better big sister than you'll ever be. You left him, you chose this over him, and he knows it. You shouldn't blame him for warming up to her – she's everything that you're not; happy, friendly, bubbly, pretty and nice. Not some screwed up trash who kept him in a bubble his whole life.
I feel moisture pool around my eyes, but I'm quick to swipe away the tears before they fall. "Callie…" Stef says, edging closer to me. I feel everyone's eyes on me, judging me, watching me in precaution, like I'm a ticking time bomb, about to blow at any moment.
"I'm fine," I say, forcing a smile. I need to get through this visit; I won't break down with all of these people here to watch. "I'm okay."
The two women share a look of doubt, before Stef sits back down on the seat and Lena back on the bed. I can tell I'm going to be questioned later.
I take a deep breath, realising that the silence is going to remain until I break it. Not even Jesus, the king of ice breaking comments, has mustered up the courage to speak yet. "So, how are you guys?" I ask, my voice uneven.
"We're good," Brandon says, taking the lead. "I got a call back for a junior symphony orchestra."
My eyes widen, and for the first time in a while, I manage to feel something that's almost like happy. "Wow, that's great, Brandon. Amazing."
He smiles a little, cocking his head to the side, as if he's trying to figure me out. "Thanks."
From there, it's as if the others in the room have found their staging, as if they'd been afraid of what to and what not to say before coming in here. Jesus stands and walks towards the bed, and the conversation begins to flow just as if it were taking place around the table in the Foster's kitchen. I notice Lena smile when I join in, and I feel a little less guilty about my doubt of Jude's safety in their care. Jude, however, shows no sign of his mood with me diffusing. It almost hurts to look at him as he sulks in the corner, occupied with Mariana's cell phone, as the rest of the family chatter on about some TV show and attempt to make me laugh with stories from school.
About an hour later, the doctor makes an appearance, claiming that it's time for my meds. Luckily, Lena ushers the family out after I give her a pleading look. I found it hard enough to talk with them as it was, never mind in a drug induced state where I'd be saying god knows what.
Mariana gives me a half hug, and the boys tell me they'll see me later before all three siblings exit the room. I close my eyes, sighing in content, but reopen them when I feel Jude's presence beside me. He looks at me, and I can tell by the fear in his green eyes, the way he clenches his hands and bites his cheek to keep from crying that he feels bad about the way he's acted. "Callie…" he begins to say, looking down at his feet.
"It's okay, baby," I whisper, as the doctor pumps a needle into my IV. I can feel the drowsiness slipping through my veins, and I know that the conversation I need to have with Jude will have to wait until later. "Go see the other's out there. I'll speak to you later, okay?"
He looks like he wants to protest, like he wants to hop on the bed and curl up beside me – and right now, I want nothing more than that, too – but with one look from Stef, he nods his head sullenly and walks out of the room.
As I sink further under the morphine's mask, I try to listen as the moms talk to the doctor, but I can barely understand the words anyone's saying. What could be minutes or hours later, Stef announces that she has to head to the station. Lena looks at her curiously, but I don't blame her for needing to escape – god knows I would if I could. She assures us she'll be back later before making a swift exit, causing Lena to release a triumphant sigh.
"Do you want me to sit with you for a while?" she asks, her eyebrow raised.
I want to shake my head no, to tell her that I'll be okay and that she should go be with the other kids, but I find myself grinning widely and saying a hyperbolic, "Yessss."
Lena looks at me incredulously before letting out a soft giggle, and placing her hand in mine, sits down on the plastic chair beside the bed. She rubs my hand in circles, being mindful of the IV port that juts its way into my blue vein, and I watch her carefully. I realise, if I squint my eyes a little and tilt my head to the side, she could almost be my mom. The action she's completing now is something that my mom used to do to sooth me to sleep at night when I was a kid, and sometimes, I used to fake a nightmare just so she'd come and sit with me rubbing the palm of my hand in soothing motions.
"I love you, Mommy…" I hear myself whisper, but before I can be embarrassed, or gauge Lena's reaction, sleep takes me captive and I'm thrown into a world of innocent dreams for the first time in weeks.
Stef
The afternoon sun is warm on my skin through the window as I rest my hand along the side of the door. I knew I should have taken the back route – hitting rush hour was not something I typically enjoyed, but today of all days, I could really do without lagging behind the trail of cars on the highway.
I know Lena will be mad – angry, even – that I didn't consult her before deciding to do this, but she would have been able to talk me out of it, help me make sense of the situation. But the girls who attacked Callie didn't make sense of the situation before they threw the first punch to her stomach, so why should I? I'm a cop, I have pretty good judgement call – or so my boss tells me, anyway.
It was only a few days ago at this exact time Lena and I were driving out to Haven Falls for the first time, and even then I had been uncomfortable about the situation. I was relying on this 'Dr Ashford' and her staff to look after my daughter, to prevent her from hurting herself. The least of my worries should have been wondering whether there were people in that place who wanted to hurt Callie, and yet it still happened.
Finally, the traffic subsides, and I start off down the highway fast. I need to be quick about this; partly so I'm back in plausible time to have just been down at the station, and partly because I'm afraid that I'll chicken out before I get the chance to lay my eyes on Dr Ashford and the people who had almost cost Callie her life.
I'm numb as I walk through the parking lot and towards the front doors of the hospital, Lena's voice in my head, warning me to think about what I'm doing. But as I press the buzzer on the door, as I smell the waft of cleaning fluid on the sterile floors of the hallways, the guilt begins to bubble in my stomach. Every turn I take towards Dr Ashford's office a new wave of nausea hits as I imagine what it must have been like not to only feel like you've been thrown in some treatment facility by two women who you thought you could trust, but to be assaulted further by the kids who are suffering just as much as you, too.
I know deep down that our intentions were good when we agreed to admit Callie here, but recently – especially since the Jacob siblings entered my life – I've been starting to care less for people's intentions, and more so for what their actual actions reprimand. Sometimes, you have to take the unorthodox route, and I wish we'd been able to see that that was the direction we should have gone with Callie before any of this happened.
Before I can dwell further into my own self-loathing, I spot the familiar dark haired doctor along the hall, her face buried in a file. I pick up my pace, determined to catch up to her. I'm not leaving here without her knowing that we're not okay with how Callie was treated.
"Dr Ashford," I call when I'm only a short distance behind her. The woman turns around and her eyes widen, not recognising me in my uniform.
She pushes her glasses down the bridge of her nose, eyes squinting before she questions me. "Stef Foster? What are you doing here?"
"I'm here to talk about Callie." My uniform gives me a sense of courage, almost like holding authority over this woman is what's allowing me to be so forceful – I know for sure the words would have come out a lot more timid had I been dressed regularly.
Dr Ashford sighs, switching her weight down to her left hand side as she pulls up her arm, glancing at a watch. "I think you'll have to make an appointment. If you–"
The blood boils inside my veins at the woman's suggestion. If she seriously thinks I am about to leave without talking to her, then she has it all wrong. "No, I won't make an appointment. I think here will be just perfect to have a conversation about the fact that you allowed some delinquents to attack my daughter in a place that I was assured is 'one of the safest in the state of California'."
My temper is raising, and by the look on Dr Ashford's face, it's apparent that she's shocked by my words.
The woman looks around nervously, obviously afraid that my outburst has attracted eavesdroppers. "Stef…why don't we take this into my office?"
I want to protest – I want everyone to know that there are dangerous girls in this facility and staff who can turn a blind eye. But I know for the sake of my dignity and my duty that this conversation will have to be held at a more private venue. I nod my head in approval of her suggestion to which she offers a tight lipped smile in return, before she guides me down the hall and into a similarly clinical office.
"Stef, I can assure you that we don't promote that type of behaviour here at Haven Falls," she says, taking a seat at her desk and gesturing for me to take the couch by the window. But I don't; I won't give her the satisfaction of being able to boss me around. I'm the cop, after all.
I fold my arms, shaking my head at her comment, "Well it sure doesn't seem that way."
"How is she? Callie, I mean."
As I explain the repercussions of her beating, Dr Ashford's face pales, and I can begin to feel myself feeling nauseous just thinking of Callie's purple skin and swollen face. "But that's beside the point," I start, only to have the doctor give me a quizzical look. "When we brought Callie and her brother Jude to live with us, I promised her that I would never let anything happen to her again. After I found out about…about the rape…I made that promise again."
The woman looks unfazed, as if she's trying to piece together the significance of my words. Do I literally have to spell it out to her? "I promised Callie that I wouldn't let anybody hurt her again. That girl, she's been through more than any of us know, and it took so much time for her to let Lena and I in – for her to trust us."
She nods before sighing sympathetically. "Stef, you and Lena really did a great job – I've never doubted that at all in the short time I've known Callie."
As she speaks, I unfold my arms and walk close to her desk, bending down so my face is directly in line with hers. "I don't think you understand what I'm trying to say here. Callie is tough, she really is, but only to an extent. I don't need you to tell me that she has issues with voicing her feelings, or confrontation – because I know that deep down, she is fragile. She's extremely fragile, but it's a side that no one ever got to see before she took the blade to her wrists. But here, she was exposed and open. The people knew everything about her – she had no way of hiding. That promise that I made her? That was one of the only things keeping her from completely mistrusting my wife and I – her moms. But when she came her, she was hurt. She was hurt really badly, and I couldn't do anything to stop it. But you could have. Instead, I broke my promise, and truthfully, I don't know if she's ever going to be able to fully trust anyone ever again."
I feel my limbs shaking. With the realisation of the words I've just voiced, I want to either burst into tears or take a swing at the wall. But instead, I focus my eyes on the woman before me, challenging her with a stare-down until she responds.
"Stef, you can't blame yourself for this," she begins, and I have to stifle an incredulous laugh at her reply.
"No. I'm blaming you, and your team of attendants, and whichever one of those girls who felt the need to break my daughter in half." My tone is sharp. I can feel myself getting riled up, but I can't bring myself to stop. In truth, I was blaming myself. I was blaming myself for sending Callie here in the first place, for accepting the nurse's half-hearted responses when we questioned them about Callie's progress on visiting day, but mostly, I blamed myself for not insisting that she stay downstairs and eat dinner with us the night she tried to kill herself.
"It's natural to feel guilty, Stef. But you have to remember, Callie is her own person. You couldn't have done anything to prevent this outcome – Callie, she's not well. It would have happened at some point anyway…"
As the doctor carries on talking, I realise that this has gone from a discussion about seeking justice for Callie, to a therapy session – me being the patient. This had gone horribly wrong. I was stupid to even think coming here could help in any way. If Lena was here right now – if she'd known I'd even come – she'd be shaking her head with satisfaction and chanting 'I told you so'.
I stiffen my posture, interrupting the doctor's drabble about breathing exercises to prevent sleepless nights of brain-wrecking guilt before muttering a quick "I have to go" before turning on my heel and practically scampering out the door. I want Callie to get her justice, but this plan was far from genius.
I'm looking down the corridor, trying to recall which way I'd come from, when I spot them. The group of girls range in size although a good proportion of them are shockingly underweight, but this only makes the large, tough looking black girl stand out further.
I realise I've been standing still for too long and they've spotted me. However, their eyes aren't wide in fear or concern like I'd expected – I am dressed in my uniform, after all. No, the cop uniform doesn't seem to faze them, and neither does the hard set grimace on my face.
Just by their sneers and whispers, I can tell instantly that this is the group of girls who played a part in landing Callie in the hospital.
"…psycho's dyke mom…"
"She's a cop? Should've seen that coming…"
"…wonder if she's as fucked up as her kid…"
As I listen to their taunting whispers, my hands begin to shake with rage and I feel my feet begin to maneuver themselves towards the group of lingering teens. Hearing those words, those insults, almost makes me feel like I imagine Callie did the other night when they did this to her. I recall her words from last night:
"…But when she…when she started saying things I just cracked. I just needed to get out and I guess I shoved her and I really shouldn't have because she's, like, six foot tall and then she just started hitting me and kicking me and I…"
As I approach the girls, they silence, almost all of them sporting a smug smirk. I let my eyes run over the group, from the skinny girls who look like they could keel over at any moment, to the twitching addicts, until my eyes finally land back on that big built black girl.
Where each of the girls had challenged my stare, this girl almost seems to shy away, her eyes cast downward to the floor as I close the space between us. The girl is tall, not quite six foot, but definitely taller than Callie, and definitely tough enough that even I would have a hard time restraining her if it came to that point. And I know it was her. It was this disgrace of a human who broke Callie's bones like they were bread sticks. Who ripped the hair from her scalp chunks at a time, and who broke the promise I'd made to my daughter.
For the first time in my life, I feel my seething anger almost overpower my morality. It takes everything in me not to throw my fist into the girl's face, and bring my knees up into her stomach, just as she had done to Callie only hours earlier. But the ashen look on her face is enough to stifle my fury as I line my face with hers and hiss, "You will not get away with this."
I turn away from the group, whose faces have grown fearful and wary, and walk calmly out of the building. As I enter the car, I take a deep breath, forcing all the anger to leave my body and seep out of my pores. I feel my composure lower, and I suddenly feel exhausted.
I'll file a police report and work goddamn hard to make that girl pay for what she did to Callie, but it will never be enough to satisfy the unsettled feeling in my stomach. Nothing ever will, because knowing that I could have stopped this, all of this, makes me feel like the worst excuse for a mother in the world.
Maybe, if I'd acted on my suspicion that something wasn't quite right with Callie that first day we went to visit her, or maybe if I'd refused to have her admitted to Haven Falls in the first place, none of this would have happened. Maybe if I'd just insisted that she let us comfort her on That Night, she wouldn't have been left alone long enough to…
Maybe, if instead of forcing all our concerns into getting organised for this stupid wedding, then we would have been able to give her all the comfort and love and care that she'd been waiting on for so, so long.
As my mind whirls with 'what ifs' I don't notice the tears that roll down my cheeks, or the way my body begins convulsing as I release sob after sob after sob. It's not until my phone buzzes in my belt that I'm shaken from my hysteria, and my heart instantly lurches, thinking of the worst. It's just Lena, asking when I'll be back because the kids are driving her crazy. I release a little chuckle as I stare at my reflection in the car mirror. I wipe away the tears from my puffy eyes, and take a deep breath. "You're a cop, Stefanie. You're a damn good cop, and cops don't cry. Now pull yourself together and go be with your family."
My pep talk works. I slide put the car into drive, and pull out of the parking lot, determined to keep the tears at bay while I make my way to the hospital.
Thanks for reading! Sorry about the long wait for this chapter - exams are in full swing now.
So, Stef might seem a little out of character this chapter, but I really want to show exactly how she's feeling - which we will get to more in further chapters. But regardless, I hope you enjoyed this!
Soon we'll have a little bit of drama and Callie's long awaited homecoming...but how will everyone feel about the idea?
Please review - it really helps to know what you guys are thinking! Thanks again - K :)
