"You can't be serious?" It was hard enough to simply be in the same room with him, even knowing that they were within ear shot of doctors and nurses. Carl was smart and though he would threaten and intimidate her, he'd never hurt her in a place with so many witnesses. There was some small comfort in that, but the thought of going back to that house, of living with him day in and day out, of going through that volatility, that uncertainty again—it made her feel sick inside.
"I've never been more serious about anything in my entire life," Carl said quietly, his tone considerably more calm, his features softening again as he looked down at her.
She knew this pattern. This was the way it always happened. There had been many times throughout their relationship when she'd wondered how he could possibly care about her. It made no sense that a man capable of doing what he did could truly want her in his life and yet somehow he would show moments of such intense devotion that she began to question her own instincts and, at times, her own sanity. He could be so damn convincing, so apologetic, so sincere.
"Listen," he whispered, "I know you're angry with me. I said some things…some things that I shouldn't have said, but I think we have a responsibility now. We have to work on this. We have to make this right…for our baby."
Phyllis swallowed hard, the thought of bringing a child into this insanity made her want to scream. "You don't honestly think I'd come back to that house with you…not after what happened?" She saw the twitch in his face as his muscles tightened, the flash of anger in his eyes was distinct and quick, but not missed—even though he quickly covered.
"I know." Carl hung his head, running his fingers through his hair. "I know I messed up, but you're gonna come home and we're gonna get married and we'll raise this baby together. It'll be better. It was better before. It'll be better again."
"Sometimes I really think you're out of your mind," she muttered, realizing instantly she'd said too much.
His face changed quickly. "What did you say?"
She took a breath. She was tired of cowering, tired of watching her words, tired of fearing his reaction. She was just so damn tired. "I said you must be out of your mind to think I would ever come back to that house with you. Isn't it enough now? My God, Carl…I could have killed you. This doesn't work and now there's a baby to think about. This is crazy. You think I'm some kind of masochist? That I'm just going to come back home with me so you can kill me next time?"
His normal fits of rage were easier to read than this calm, quiet fury. He leaned in towards her, his voice low and menacing. "No," he said, "I don't think you're a masochist. I think you're a love-sick fool and I happen to know you'd do absolutely anything to protect Billy Abbott. It's sickening really." Carl pulled back a bit, studying her eyes, the tears that began to well up within them the instant Billy's name was mentioned. "He was here earlier, you know, all hyped up with fake concern for you. I've got to tell you though, he's a bit better at the lying part than you are."
Phyllis felt her heart began to pound faster and she struggled not to react. "Billy was here? You saw him? You talked to him?" She forced her breathing to slow.
"Yeah, he came to my room with some bull shit story about seeing the news bit and wanting to help with the investigation. It would be romantic if it wasn't so damn pathetic."
"Carl." Her voice was shaking and she felt helpless to stop it. "What did you do?"
He smiled. "You are so suspicious," he whispered, shaking his head as he leaned back against her legs. "I didn't do anything—didn't say anything. I just let the man talk. It was tough though because there was so much I wanted to say. I mean..soooo much." He grinned broadly at her. "I know everything and now that we have a few minutes in here alone, I just want to know—Did you really think you could just shoot me and leave there to die? It was bad enough that you were a crap shot, but then you go and make that ridiculous phone call and you sit there and fall apart like that until Mr. White Knight gets there and scoops you up…takes you out of there to parts unknown." Carl paused, smiling again as he watched the look of horror spread across her face. "And let me just say, it was hard as hell to just lay there and wait for the two of you to finally get your act together and get your asses out of there. I thought you'd never leave so I could call my own damn ambulance."
Phyllis felt the tears stream down her cheeks. "I was so sure….I was so sure you were…"
"What? Dead? Well, sorry about your luck, but I don't plan on checking out any time soon. We've still got lots to look forward to, don't we?" Carl glanced back towards the door as he heard movement in the hallway. "And speaking of our little bundle of joy…" He stood, extending his hand to the doctor as she stepped into the room, followed by a nurse with an ultrasound machine.
The doctor smiled. "If the two of you are ready, we'll just go ahead and take a look here—see about getting this little one a clean bill of health."
Billy stood at the back of the waiting room. He'd seen Paul and a couple of uniforms walk in and speak to Stitch about five minutes ago, but they hadn't entered any of the rooms yet. His mind raced with nightmarish scenarios. What if something had happened to Phyllis? What if they couldn't go in because she was hurt, because something had happened with the baby? What if Carl had done something? Billy took a few steps closer, hearing one of the officers say Phyllis' name.
"I'm sorry," he said, interrupting the conversation, "Did you say something about Phyllis Summers?"
Paul turned, immediately stepping in front of Billy and pushing him away from the conversation. "Billy," he said quietly, "I know you're worried, but this is an active investigation and we can't give out any information."
"Look, I know…I get it Paul, but I just want to know if you've found anything….if you've heard from her. I just want to know if she's alright."
"I'm sorry Billy, I can't tell you anything."
"Paul, please….you know me. I'm not trying to complicate anything please. Just tell me if you've found her…that's all I want to know. Just tell me you've found her and she's okay."
Paul sighed. As Chief of Police he had a job to do, but before any of that, he had a family, he had a wife, he had people he cared about and if any of them were in this kind of danger, he'd want to know the very same thing. He stepped in close, dropping his head and speaking in hushed tones. "She's here...in that room. Doctors are checking her out now. We're waiting to question her when they're done. That's all I can tell you."
Billy breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God," he whispered. He looked up at Paul. "Thanks, Paul."
As Paul headed back to the chairs, Billy caught one of the detectives. He gestured to the room. "She's not alone in there is she? Someone should be there for her."
"Oh, they brought her boyfriend in a little bit ago…the guy that got shot. He's with her," the detective said with a smile.
Billy gripped the back of the chair, his legs feeling weak beneath him. "Good," he managed, as the detective nodded and walked away. He turned to face the door. There were doctors in the room, he reminded himself. She'd be fine, but the second they left… Billy shook his head as he looked back over his shoulder at Paul. Police are no police, there was no way in hell Carl was staying in that room with her alone.
