Atlas is standing on the other side of the room. He hasnโt taken his eyes off me the entire time the nurse has been helping me. After taking a blood sample, she immediately returned and began to attend to my cut. She hasnโt asked me very many questions yet, but itโs obvious my injuries are the result of an attack. I can see the pitying look on her face as she cleans up blood from the bite mark left on my shoulder.
When sheโs ๏ฌnished, she glances back at Atlas. She steps to the right, blocking his view of me as she turns and faces me again. โI need to ask you some personal questions. Iโm going to ask him to leave the room, okay?โ
Itโs in that moment that I realize she thinks Atlas is the one who did these things to me. I immediately start to shake my head. โIt wasnโt him,โ I tell her. โPlease donโt make him leave.โ
Relief washes over her face. She nods her head and then pulls up a chair. โAre you hurt anywhere else?โ
I shake my head, because she canโt ๏ฌx all the parts of me Ryle broke on the inside.
โLily?โ Her voice is gentle. โWere you raped?โ
Tears ๏ฌll my eyes and I see Atlas roll across the wall, pressing his forehead against it.
The nurse waits until I make eye contact with her again to continue speaking. โWe have a certain examination for these situations. Itโs called a SANE exam. Itโs optional, of course, but I highly encourage it in your situation.โ
โI wasnโt raped,โ I say. โHe didnโt . . .โ โAre you sure, Lily?โ the nurse asks.
I nod. โI donโt want one.โ
Atlas faces me again and I can see the pain in his expression as he steps forward. โLily. You need this.โ His eyes are pleading.
I shake my head again. โAtlas, I swear . . .โ I squeeze my eyes shut and lower my head. โIโm not covering for him this time,โ I whisper. โHe tried, but then he stopped.โ
โIf you choose to press charges, youโll needโโ
โI donโt want the exam,โ I say again, my voice ๏ฌrm.
Thereโs a knock on the door and a doctor enters, sparing me from more pleading looks from Atlas. The nurse gives the doctor a brief rundown of my injuries. She then steps aside as he examines my head and shoulder. He ๏ฌashes a light into both of my eyes. He looks down at the paperwork again and says, โIโd like to rule out a concussion, but given your situation, I donโt want to administer a CT. Weโd like to keep you for observation, instead.โ
โWhy donโt you want to administer a CT?โ I ask him.
The doctor stands up. โWe donโt like to perform X-rays on pregnant women unless itโs vital. Weโll monitor you for complications and if there are no further concerns, youโll be free to go.โ
I donโt hear anything beyond that.ย Nothing.
The pressure begins to build in my head. My heart. My stomach.
I grip the edges of the exam table Iโm sitting on and I stare at the ๏ฌoor until they both leave the room.
When the door closes behind them, I sit, suspended in frozen silence. I see Atlas move closer. His feet are almost touching mine. His ๏ฌngers brush lightly over my back. โDid you know?โ
I release a quick breath, and then drag in more air. I start shaking my head, and when his arms come down around me, I cry harder than I knew my body was even capable of. He holds me the entire time I cry. He holds me through my hatred.
I did this to myself.
I allowed this to happen to me.ย I am my mother.
โI want to leave,โ I whisper.
Atlas pulls back. โThey want to monitor you, Lily. I think you should stay.โ
I look up at him and shake my head. โI need to get out of here.
Please.ย I want to leave.โ
He nods and helps me back into my shoes. He pulls off his jacket and wraps it around me, then we walk out of the hospital without anyone noticing.
He says nothing to me as we drive. I stare out the window, too exhausted to cry. Too in shock to speak. I feel submerged.
Just keep swimming.
โข โข โข
Atlas doesnโt live in an apartment. He lives in a house. A small suburb outside of Boston called Wellesley, where all the homes are beautiful, sprawling, manicured, and expensive. Before we pull into his driveway, I wonder to myself if he ever married that girl.ย Cassie.ย I wonder what sheโll think of her husband bringing home a girl he once loved who has just been attacked by her own husband.
Sheโll pity me. Sheโll wonder why I never left him. Sheโll wonder how I let myself get to this point. Sheโll wonder all the same things I used to wonder about my own mother when I saw her in my same situation. People spend so much time wondering why the women donโt leave. Where are all the people who wonder why the men are even abusive? Isnโt that where the only blame should be placed?
Atlas parks in the garage. Thereโs not another vehicle here. I donโt wait for him to help me out of the car. I open the door and get out on my own, and then I follow him into his house. He punches in a code on an alarm and then ๏ฌips on a few lights. My eyes roam around the kitchen, the dining room, the living room. Everything is made of rich woods and stainless steel, and his kitchen is painted a calming bluish-green. The color of the ocean. If I wasnโt hurting so much, I would smile.
Atlas kept swimming, and look at him now. He swam all the way to the fucking Caribbean.
He moves to his refrigerator and pulls out a bottle of water,
walking it over to me. He takes the lid off and hands it to me. I take a drink and watch as he turns the living room light on, then the hallway.
โDo you live alone?โ I ask.
He nods as he walks back into the kitchen. โAre you hungry?โ I shake my head. Even if I was, I wouldnโt be able to eat.
โIโll show you your room,โ he says. โThereโs a shower if you need it.โ
I do. I want to wash the taste of scotch out of my mouth. I want to wash the sterile smell of the hospital off of me. I want to wash away the last four hours of my life.
I follow him down the hallway and to a spare bedroom where he
๏ฌips on the light. There are two boxes on a bare bed and more stacked up against the walls. Thereโs an oversized chair against one wall, facing the door. He moves to the bed and takes off the boxes, setting them against the wall with the others.
โI just moved in a few months ago. Havenโt had much time to decorate yet.โ He walks to a dresser and pulls open a drawer. โIโll make the bed for you.โ He takes out sheets and a pillowcase. He begins making the bed as I walk inside the bathroom and close the door.
I remain in the bathroom for thirty minutes. Some of those minutes are spent staring at my re๏ฌection in the mirror. Some of those minutes are spent in the shower. The rest are spent over the toilet as I make myself sick with thoughts of the last several hours.
Iโm wrapped in a towel when I crack the bathroom door. Atlas is no longer in the bedroom, but there are clothes folded on the freshly made bed. Menโs pajama bottoms that are too big for me and a T-shirt that goes past my knees. I pull the drawstring tight, tie it, and then crawl into bed. I turn the lamp off and pull the covers up and over me.
I cry so hard, I donโt even make a noise.
