Chapter 11
Two fractured ribs, a concussion and twenty stitches.
That was what Jenny was told she had anyway. But by the time she had been fixed up in the hospital, she was so high on the Morphine they had given her, she could barely remember her own name, let alone her many ailments. The police had come to the hospital with Sarah and Jenny to interview them, but the doctors had shooed them away, claiming that the girls were too injured to relive everything at that time. Reluctantly, the police officers had told them they would come and get their statements the following day.
Jenny couldn't take anything in; one moment, she was in the hospital, and the next she was being half-carried by Cutter into his house. She could feel nothing but blissful numbness as she was being lowered onto a soft bed; someone was undressing her gently and pulling bedcovers over her and soon she was lost to a dream-free slumber.
Jenny woke suddenly as a sharp pain shot through her chest; her head was pounding, and the places that had been stitched were stinging. She was in Cutter's bed wearing one of his shirts, although she had no memory of changing into it. And she was completely alone. Confused, she looked around, and spotted Cutter fast asleep in a chair in the corner; he obviously hadn't wanted to share a bed with her incase he hurt her during the night. As quietly as possible, but wincing heavily in pain, she got out of bed and tiptoed into the bathroom, taking her bag with her to fish out the painkillers she had been given. She took two and slurped some water out of the tap, unable to summon up the strength to go to the kitchen for a proper drink.
She stared at herself in the mirror for a moment with her hands on the side of the sink; God she looked a mess! Her lip was swollen, and her cheekbone was stitched heavily, as was her forehead. She also had a black eye, which looked as though all the make up in the world wouldn't cover it up. She closed her eyes, and as soon as she did, the image of Brookes flashed up in front of her. Unable to contain herself, she broke down, leaning over the sink and sobbing as quietly as she could so that Cutter wouldn't hear her.
Why had this happened to her?
"You alright?" Cutter's soft voice roused her from her thoughts.
She straightened up immediately, wiping the tears away hastily as she glanced around at him; he was leaning against the door frame looking at her with a furrowed brow.
"I'm fine," she stated more coolly than she intended.
"No you're not - "
"God, you men!" she burst out, misdirecting her anger at Cutter. "As soon as we make a peep, you're pushing us onto the fainting couch."
"Jenny, you went through something horrific - "
"I know Nick," she snapped, looking back at herself in the mirror. "I was there, remember?"
"Is that supposed to be a dig at me for not being there?" Cutter asked, sounding slightly stung.
"No," Jenny sighed, although she was being untruthful; she hated herself for it, but she couldn't help but feel a pang of resentment at him for not being there. Which was stupid of course; the rational part of her reasoned that none of this was his fault. However, her irrational side was winning out at the present.
"I am sorry," Cutter whispered, coming up behind her and rubbing his hands over her upper arms. "If I could go back in time - "
"Well you can't, can you?" she replied abruptly, looking up into his reflection, watching as his face fell into a look of shame.
She felt a slight twinge of guilt at this.
"I'm sorry, I'm just tired," she lied, pulling away from him. "I'm going back to bed."
He nodded and remained in the bathroom as she left, and he didn't return to the bedroom as she lay awake until all night.
If Cutter had ever felt more awful about himself before, he couldn't remember it; he couldn't believe he had let this happen to Jenny. He should have stayed with her twenty-four seven; protected her . . . but he hadn't - he had failed. And every time he looked at Jenny's bruised and battered face he was reminded of it. It sickened him to his stomach to think that someone - anyone - had hurt her. She had picked up various injuries over the past year and a half (indeed in their line of work it was hard not to) but this wasn't some creature or a fall - someone they had trusted, that they had worked with day after day, had attacked her.
After their abrupt conversation in the bathroom that night, Cutter had stayed downstairs, pacing and thinking. Early morning, she came downstairs fully dressed.
"Morning," she said.
"Morning," he muttered, turning away to make her some coffee.
She seemed to pause for a moment, hovering in the doorway.
"It's a lovely day," she said in a cheery voice.
He turned to her; her manner was false and jittery, and she seemed to know it, as she sighed and ran her fingers through her hair.
"Thank you," she continued in a quiet but normal voice. "For last night. For getting me home."
He raised his eyebrow at her at her referral to his place as 'home'. She flushed slightly.
"I mean your place," she added, looking rather embarrassed.
"It's okay," he smiled. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine," she replied, not meeting him in the eye.
"You don't always have to be 'fine' you know," he pointed out, knowing that her stubbornness caused her to downplay everything.
"I know I don't have to be, but I am," she insisted, wincing as she bent down to pick up her bag.
"Where are you going?"
"Back to my place; the police will be there soon," she answered in a nonchalant manner, although her eyes gave her away; he could see the fear in them.
"Well I'm going with you," he insisted.
"Nick - "
"Will you stop being so bloody stubborn woman!" he said, feeling aspirated. "I'm coming, no arguments."
She looked at him for a moment; and Cutter could have sworn that the corner of her mouth tweaked upwards into a reluctant smile before she cleared her throat.
"Fine," she said coldly, walking towards the door, turning back to him. "Well are you coming?"
He smiled and followed her.
As Cutter had hoped, Abby must have been at Jenny's house, as the place was immaculate - indeed it looked as though nothing untoward had happened here. He was worried that they may have had to keep the place as it was for the police, but they had said that they were happy to work off the pictures they had taken of the 'crime scene'. When they entered, Jenny surveyed the place as though it was unfamiliar to her.
Cutter listened to Jenny give her statement to the CID officer with a slightly open mouth; as she talked and described how she and Sarah had managed to fight him off, he couldn't help feel a twinge of pride - this woman was incredible . . . how on earth had she survived?She talked in a hollow voice which never cracked, even when she was talking about the most violent parts of the story. Fury bubbled up in Cutter's stomach as her words formed mental images in his head; the thought of it made him want to cry himself, so how was she keeping her composure, he'd never know.
"Okay Miss Lewis," the officer said, finishing the last sentence of her statement. "I just need to ask you a few questions if that's okay?"
Jenny nodded.
"It's just a formality really, but we need to know," he continued, looking quiet uncomfortable. "How do you usually dress for work?"
"What?" Jenny said, looking confused.
"What attire did you usually wear when you were around this man?" he rearranged the question.
Jenny looked at Cutter in disbelief, before turning back to the officer.
"What the hell has that got to do with anything?" she demanded.
"Well, if you dressed provocatively - "
"I do not dress provocatively!" Jenny snapped. "And even if I did, does that mean I was asking for it?"
"No of course not," the officer insisted. "But this is what the Defense will be going for in Court, I'm just trying to prepare you for their questions."
"So wearing a pair of heels and a little make-up gives men legal grounds to attack women?" Jenny fumed, her temper obviously getting the better of her.
"No Miss Lewis, but you have to understand," the officer replied, running his hand through his thinning hair. "He's the one lying in a secured hospital bed right now with a machine breathing for him."
"And?"
"And your sitting here bruised, but otherwise fine," he continued. "It doesn't look good to a Jury, and the Defense will be using that."
"But she was defending herself! And her friend!" Cutter interjected, not liking what they were insinuating.
"I know that, and you know that," the officer answered. "But the Jury doesn't."
"So your saying that he might get off with this because of how I dressed at work, and because me and Sarah by some miracle managed to survive by knocking him unconscious?" Jenny gapped.
"I'm just saying that it's a possibility."
Jenny laughed in disbelief.
"Then I wish I would have killed him," she stated, her cheeks flushed with fury.
"Jenny - " Cutter began.
"No, I'm serious," she said, her voice rising. "At least then I'd be able to sleep at night."
She got up of the couch and walked off.
Cutter turned back to the officer, who was shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
"She's upset," Cutter mumbled as a way of apology.
"Of course," the officer replied. "I understand it's a traumatic experience, but if she could refrain from admitting intent of murder in Court, I would be very grateful," he added, standing up to leave.
Cutter showed him to the door, before joining Jenny in the kitchen. She was pacing back and forth, looking upset and angry.
"Can you believe him!" she burst out.
"He was only trying to prepare you for the worst," Cutter pointed out, leaning against the fridge.
Jenny looked around at him in incredulity.
"You're on his side!"
"No, I'm on your side, and so is he," Cutter insisted, wanting to avoid an argument. "But admitting that you wished you killed him isn't going to help anyone."
"Is that what he said?"
"Yes," Cutter answered. "But I told him you were upset - "
"Don't you apologize for me," she scoffed, crossing her arms and looking him up and down.
"I was trying to stop you getting arrested!" Cutter defended himself.
Jenny opened her mouth to argue, but the doorbell rang, cutting her off.
Glaring at him, she walked off to answer it, but he grabbed her arm to stop her.
"Leave it," he said. "We not done talking about this."
"It could be Sarah, and I can't just ignore her after what I put her through," Jenny snapped, pulling herself free.
Cutter followed her down the hall, when a voice shouted from behind the door.
"Jen, it's Mark!" a posh man's voice said as the doorbell rang again. "I just want to talk about what happened between us yesterday!"
Jenny froze, her face as white as a sheet as she looked up at Cutter.
