This part had me in bits to write, its got strong content that could be triggering and upsetting, passes tissues round,
ENJOY is the penultimate part
10.
"We need Connie to stay in overnight, she's quite shaken up," the oversweet nurse commented as Michael stepped into the bustling emergency department, his monster of a wife lying on the trolley, her right eye obscured by a nasty looking bruise, her neck branded with strangulation marks, the rest of her body concealed under a gown, her hands placed over her middle protectively, the distraught evident in her eyes, their hazel nut brown resembling the coals of black as she turned away from him. Pride lost.
He shuffled uncomfortably towards her, what the hell was he supposed to do with her, she'd been brutally raped, attacked, invaded. He no longer felt she belonged. She no longer felt like she belonged. Disjointed.
"I brought you some fresh clothes," he muttered apologetically, thrusting the carrier bag of items to the floor, plonking himself onto the seat beside her, reaching through the silver barriers of the bed, attempting to take her hand, in her recoil Connie winced at the pain as she moved. "How are you feeling?" was his next stupid question, vaguely attempting to imagine what she'd just been through was making him anxious, let alone what she was going through.
"Take me home," she whispered, her voice sore and hoarse, the echo of it eerie.
"They want you to stay in overnight sweetheart, I won't leave your side though I promise," he stood up and leant over her, intimidating her already invaded space, her barriers were truly broken as little effort was made to put him in his place, shirking further into the bed her legs drew up to her chest, the itchy covers engulfing her as she forced her head further into the pillow.
"Michael I want to go home, please," she protested as his eyes looked pitifully at her, humiliation was the understatement.
"I think it would be better if you stayed in" Michael smiled cautiously, built for emotional traumas of affair he was but for the fact his wife had been raped were another kettle of fish. Not wishing to feel selfish and mean he gave her a hopeful look and bustle out of the cubicle, glancing back at her. She wasn't Connie. Everytime she attempted to move her hand its resting spot would recoil, her face contort in disgust and her position change once again.
Returning minutes later his face still bore the same pitiful smile, coyly covering up his own anxieties about their, her situation. "You can come home tonight but they don't recommend it, Connie just stay, you'll be safer here"
"I don't want to be humiliated anymore, I'll need a hand getting changed" she said concisely, slowly easing herself forward on the trolley, her legs swinging round to reveal a multitude of sins, bruises teaming up and down her thighs, concentrating in number as his eyes worked up her body.
She let the shoulders of her uncomfortable gown slip down to reveal butterfly kisses masticating themselves as bruises gently hastening a shade of purple, deep scratches adorning her left breast, his hands had clearly been at work, disgusting little bastard.
As she attempted to fix her bra in place he could near feel the pain cruising up her arms from the red raw skin, the stench of cheap hospital soap emanating from their pulsating wounds. Her lent over her purple shoulder, gently doing the clasp he'd so often undone in the past, it wasn't so easy this time. She'd been violated, his place taken by a disgusting little stranger, doing things up was going to be tough, her foundations no longer existed, he could tell. Tears, her tears were real. Sorrow, her mourning was real. Pain, real. Every emotion she feebly concealed was real. Tearing her up. Stealing her of her.
Her jeans slid up her legs painfully, slowly inching their way up, covering each mark as they did so. Her feet slipped uneasily into her shoes, he could tell even they had been touched, probably stood on in her struggle.
"Its ok, I'll get you home now, Coco it will be ok," his voice was empty, she wasn't paying attention, it was clear her own hell was overcoming her, her vagrant look depicted this, the only key to her emotions were her eyes. Their deep brown abyss spoke in few full words. His arm tentatively drew round hers feeling the recoil through her soft fluffy jumper, its material sticking to odd parts of her skin, her arm reaching round her middle, protecting her ribs from movement, two broken by his feet stamping on her tiny body as she recoiled, pain that would only fade with time.
He was only trying his hardest, it was all he could do, stand beside her and keep her from falling, her path to their car torturous enough as they were spotted, pitiful looks on peoples faces as they took in her sight, hair frizzy from manic washing, face without war paint, face without barriers. Clothes fashioning themselves oddly round her body, husband giving everyone death looks. They able to move on.
Her head rested against the pillow, faintly smelling of her perfume, her old self, the person she no longer felt she was. Wasn't. Belonging to no one, blinded into obscurity. Blackness. Who was she now? That question was like attempting to derive the length of a piece of string, impossible to determine, every answer acceptable.
Why was it that it took something like this, something like rape that would throw them together in a lost manner, two strangers meeting as if it were their first time? She'd never gotten herself used to the thought of a happy marriage; she knew her personality wasn't designed for that. It had been come from lust, they both knew that, personal problems they had with each other were exactly that, personal. She'd never let her guard down with him, not even grieving for Will, not even when she'd narrowly missed being scorched alive. They were issues she would mention off hand over dinner, being passed off as another day at work.
She couldn't settle in their bed, it wouldn't have mattered if it were a camp bed in an Iraqi army camp, she could feel her entire body relive the moments of the night before, the confrontation, the movements, the attack, the act. Her arms mimicked the slashing motion, stridently reaching out in all directions, hitting the headboard, the empty space beside her, the table laid with a bunch of flowers. He could do nothing but watch her, stunned. Placing the mug of steaming liquid on the bedside he took her sniping arms, gently forcing them to her side. "Connie, come on sweetheart, your having a nightmare, its ok"
"I'm sorry Michael," she sighed, moving back into the pile of freshly plumped pillows.
"Don't be sweetheart, its not your fault," Michael sighed reassuringly, making shifty movements to the door, stopping and talking to her his idea of a nightmare, nursing her wounds, bringing her tea, fluffing pillows he could do, coming to terms with the trauma of event something beyond him.
"But if I hadn't gone down that street, if I had just got in the car with you, it, it wouldn't have happened," shedding a tear as her voice quivered Connie stole her eyes away from Michael, clearing her blurred vision, too proud to cry in front of anyone. The doorbell rang, startling Connie.
"Let me get it, you just rest," Michael smiled, shuffling out of the room, coming to the solid wood front door he undid the numerous locks. "Ric"
"I got a call from the hospital, apparently Connie's been hurt, I just, well I wanted to check she was ok," Ric stumbled, his cheeks pulsating in embarrassment.
"I, I don't think she is up to visitors just now, perhaps try in a day or two," looking rather flustered, his mind a million miles from the house, from the person standing before him, from his life, "I'll tell her you called" he muttered as an after thought.
"Michael, who is it?" came the weak voice, drifting down from the bedroom.
"No one sweetheart, its just an old colleague of yours, news appears to have travelled fast," Glancing intently at Ric, he sighed heavily, "ok, five minutes, but she really isn't up to a whole lot"
"Thank you," Ric told him politely, moving past him and up the stairs two at a time, dawdling down the corridor, sneaking a peak at each individual room, gasping in mild jealousy, pausing as he reached the door to the master suite.
"Ric" Connie startled as he stepped into the room, shocked to standstill by her appearance, the purple bruise adorning her eye and cheek, the strangulation marks round her neck, the upset on her face.
"How are you feeling?"
"Like shit" Connie mumbled, her eyes following his movements to sit on the crisp white armchair at her side, his hand clasping hers, immediately tempering her emotions
"I'm not surprised, I got so worried when you called from the hospital,"
"It was awful Ric, I don't think I've ever been so humiliated in my life, its all my fault, I shouldn't have gone down there, if only I'd gotten into the car," she admitted, toying with the tissue resting in her stiff hands, her legs stretched outright under the duvet and blanket.
"Connie a life of what ifs aren't a live worth living,"
"But I was annoyed at him, I lost my job, I went up a dodgy street and got what I deserved," she replied, rather retorted, endless hours of pain had driven her to decipher the only reason behind the attack was to teach her a lesson.
"There is no way you deserved that Connie, no one does"
"I did, I hurt so many people, reaping the seeds I sew I guess, even Michael can't bare to look at me now,"
"Connie everyone is just upset, they feel sorry for you," Ric sighed, waiting her to open up, yet not do the typical thing and blame herself, talking was about the only way she was ever going to over it, he knew that, she knew that but neither was open to admitting it.
"I don't want their pity, I just want to forget the whole bloody affair," she protested, her voice cut to barely above a whisper by the pain searing up and down her chest, cursing as she found a comfortable position.
"You know that won't help anyone right?" Ric smiled
"IT will, they won't need to worry about me, I don't want it,"
"Connie please, talk to me" Ric squeezed her hand tighter, willing the information to surface.
"Not even Michael can talk to me, he avoids me," Connie told him evasively, once again averting her gaze out of the window, avoiding the big pink elephant stood in the middle of the room.
"Michael is dealing with it in his own selfish way, it's you I'm more concerned about Connie," Ric retorted coolly, patiently waiting her response, slowly her gaze returned to his, resting for a moment.
"I…I…can't, not yet" her voice broke, quivering then disintegrating, her eyes welling up, her composure crumpling, tears, a hug, more tears, a reassuring hand to wipe them away, a light opening up at the end of a long dark tunnel.