Dissent (30 page)

The
nurses pulled the blanket off my shoulders, inspecting my beautifully
numb nipples, swabbing at them, cleaning them. I watched the bloody
barbells fall into a pan on the tray next to the bed. I was pushed
onto an x-ray table and had a lead apron placed on me as they scanned
my face for broken bones. Jay was forcibly removed and a female
doctor came in, pressed me onto the bed, and put my feet into
stirrups, pressing inside my sore body to do a rape kit. Which was
pointless. I wasn't raped. Not really. But I couldn't tell her that.
I couldn't tell her anything. A dentist came and looked inside my
mouth where my tooth had been knocked loose. There were needles and
stitches. There was gauze and more, more, more morphine.

The
next morning, I woke up to find Jay sitting next to me, asleep, his
arms and head resting on my bed. There was a security guard outside
my door. Jay or a nurse must have kept pressing my pain medicine
button through the night, because the pain that was washing over me
was intense, breathtaking. I reached for the pump and pushed it,
settling back against the pillow and watching the television someone
had left on.

A
news reporter, female, young and brunette with big, expressive eyes
came on, a picture of me flashing beside her face, standing outside
the hospital.

“According
to reports, Darcy Monroe was brutally attacked in her tour bus after
her show at the Red Rock theater in Mesa, Arizona last night. Fans
that were there have said that her attacker was, allegedly, none
other than her own long-standing band mate and friend, drummer Todd
Henry, who was taken into police custody and treated for a broken jaw
and shattered eye socket.

As
for Miss. Monroe, a hospital representative has assured us that she
is in stable condition, watched over at her bedside by Jason Twain.

The
band's manager has come out with a statement for fans, canceling all
remaining tour dates for the fall and winter season, citing the need
for Darcy Monroe to fully recover.

Fans
tonight are hoping for a speedy recovery and wondering about the
state of Darcy now that Todd Henry is in custody, and Darcy Monroe
herself, is traumatized.

This
is Mary...”

“Hey,
pretty girl,” Jay said, the volume turning down as he held up
the remote, “don't watch that shit. None of that matters. You
matter. Only you,” he said, reaching out like he was going to
stroke my face, but his hand falling at the sight of the gauze. He
took my hand instead, rubbing it. “I know the doctor says
you're in shock and you're probably not going to be answering me, or
maybe not even hearing me... but I just... I need to know you're
okay. Okay? I need you to give me some sign,” he pleaded, his
eyes looking glassy. Big, bad, Jay was close to crying. At my
silence, he nodded slightly. “Alright. I know. You need time.
That was... fuck, Darce,” he said, looking away from my face.
“When I saw that bastard... all I could think was I wanted to
fucking kill him. I wanted to kill him with my bare hands. I would
have,” he said, looking back up at me, his eyes haunted. “I
would have happily watched the fucking life drain out of his useless
body if they hadn't pulled me off. He deserved to fucking die for
what he did to you. I can't believe...”

“How
is she?” Mike's voice asked, hesitant, standing by the door
like he was afraid to look at me.

“Still
in shock,” Jay said, squeezing my hand again.

“Management
is forcing us to take a year off,” Joey said, coming in.

Jay
looked over at me, his eyes sad. “Good. I think... I think
she's going to need it.”

“How
long is she going to be like this?” Mike asked, looking at me
quickly, a flash of disgust registering as he, no doubt, recalled the
night before.

“They
have no idea,” Jay said. “It could be a few days. Some
people go weeks. Even months. They said she's going to be released
the day after tomorrow and that we should get her to see a shrink
back in the city. I'm gonna... move in with her. She can't even take
care of herself.”

“We'll
help,” Burt said, eyes red and puffy like he had been crying.
“Whatever she needs, you can count on us,” he said,
sniffling. “That fucking bastard. I trusted...”

“We
all did,” Jay said, shrugging. “We couldn't have known.
It's no one's fault. It won't help her if we all start getting down
on ourselves. We need to move forward. Help her get back to us.”

As
predicted, I was released two days later, wearing a pair of jeans and
one of Jay's loose t-shirts that the nurses had put on me. I could do
things. I ate. I went to the bathroom. I walked when I was instructed
to. But I wasn't there.

It
was like I was watching life move around me, like I wasn't in it. But
it was good. It was good because it was numb. Even without the
morphine, I was empty.

Jay
and the guys tried to block me from the cameras as we walked from the
hospital to the car with blackout windows. We drove in silence to the
airport where I was pushed into a seat and flown back to the city.

My
apartment was how I left it, but I felt nothing in my homecoming. No
familiarity, no connection. No nothing. Jay led me to my room,
getting me settled in bed, then promising he would be back as soon as
he ran to get some food to put in the fridge.

I
got up as soon as I heard the door close, walking to my bathroom, and
turning on the light. No one had let me anywhere near a mirror since
I had been admitted, since I left. I caught the briefest glances of
myself in the blackout windows, but that was it.

Maybe
it was a sign that I was surfacing, but I needed to see. That was all
I could think. Literally it was the only thought that broke through
the fog of my brain: I needed to see.

My
face was still mine. You could see the plump cheeks, the gently
pointed chin, the light green eyes. But, at the same time, it wasn't
me. Because there were dark purple and yellow bruises covering most
of it. My cheek was fat from the swollen gums where my tooth had come
out. My lip had a nasty gash running through it. It would scar. It
would lost the red and fade to pink and be there forever.

I
took a breath, reaching for the hem of my shirt and pulling it
upward. My nipple piercings were gone, lost in the hospital
somewhere, probably to be sold off online for a small fortune. My
breasts were bruised, a light blue smattering of marks. The nipples
themselves had sharp, pointy stitches poking out of them.

I
dropped my shirt, walking into my living room, opening the door to
the balcony, and stepping out. With no clear intention. I'm not
entirely sure I was even capable of forming plans. I just felt the
urge for air. For space. To be able to suck in a deep breath.

I
walked over to the pool, sitting down on the edge, slipping my legs
into the water, despite how cool the air was turning. My head lifted,
looking around, taking in all the things I had seen a dozen times:
the railing, the city line, the cabinet where the entertainment
system was, the cabinet where the towels were. I had an image flash
into my head, Isaiah lounging in the chaise in front of that cabinet,
a book open on his lap, a scotch next to him.

I
felt a pang, a stab.

It
was the first thing I had felt in days. Sharp, burning. Like a knife
somewhere inside.

Then
just as fast as it showed up, it was gone.

I
ducked my head, looking at the water.

“Hello?”
a female voice called, sounding like it was coming from far away,
like I was underwater hearing sounds from above. “You're Darcy
aren't you?”

I
ignored her for a long time, watching the water, then forgetting she
was even there, I looked around again, seeing a woman on the other
side of the pool, someone I had never seen before, but with big green
eyes that belonged to someone I knew. Her long blonde hair was pulled
back from her pretty face, tattoos snaked up her arms.

At
my raised face, a look of shock clouded her face. “Oh, god.”

“Who
the fuck are you?” Jay's voice raged, flying out onto the
balcony, all rage and protectiveness.

He
was intimidating when he was angry, but the girl didn't shrink away.
“I'm Fiona.”

“That
means nothing to me,” Jay said, crossing his arms over his
chest, moving to block me from view. “You don't belong here.
This is private property.”

There
was a slow, sly smile spreading across her pretty face. “Your
protective shtick is cute and all, but I believe half of this balcony
belongs to my brother as well.”

“Isaiah?”
Jay asked, glancing back at me with a worried look.

“Yeah,”
she nodded, following his gaze. “Is she alright?”

Jay
looked defeated, turning from me, and looking at her. “I don't
know. Honestly, I really don't think so. It's like she's... broken.”

“I
heard she was attacked, but fuck...”

“Yeah.
The doctor said she's in shock but... it's like she's not here
anymore.”

“I'm
assuming you're the one who bashed that fucker's face in,” she
observed, not sounding completely uncomfortable with the idea.

Jay
nodded, glancing back at me, then toward Isaiah's apartment. “Is
he here?” he asked, sounding desperate. “I don't know if
he told you, but they had something going on a while back.”

“If
by 'something going on' you mean they loved each other, though they
were both too stubborn to admit it, then, yes, I know.” She
took a visible breath and shook her head. “But, no, he's not
here. He actually took off right after he got kicked off the tour. He
had some kind of breakdown and he took back to our childhood home. He
has no plans on coming back.”

“Do
you think that, if maybe... he knew... about Darcy...” he
hedged, sounding completely uncomfortable because he knew I would
object to his plan if I was right in my mind. But the fact of the
matter was, I wasn't. And he was essentially in charge of everything
Darcy-related.

“I
don't know. He's pretty... stubborn.”

“He
loves her,” Jay reasoned, sounding very matter-of-fact about a
topic he usually sneered at.

“Yeah,”
Fiona agreed, nodding. “I'll go talk to him. I can't make any
promises, though.” She went to turn away, then turned back.
“Isaiah had a shrink when he was here. If you want, I can call
her and see if she can like... come out... see what she can do about
helping her?”

“That'd
be great,” Jay said, nodding. “I didn't even know where
to start with that. But, I mean... look at her. She needs help.”

“She'll
be okay,” Fiona nodded, her voice firm.

“You
can't know that.”

A
small, strange smile toyed at Fiona's lips. “She's strong.
You'd be surprised what women can overcome. We're not a bunch of
pansy asses like you men,” she smiled and started walking away.

“You'll
find him?” Jay asked her retreating form.

“Yup,”
she said, going into Isaiah's apartment, the swishing of the door
behind her.

Jay
turned back to me, his eyes looking so heavy. “Alright, pretty
girl,” he said, coming over to me, slipping his hands under my
arms, careful to keep his fingers away from my chest, and hauling me
up. “Let's get you some food and medicine.” He kissed my
temple as we walked. “He's going to come,” he told me,
leading me into the house. “He's gonna come and he's going to
make you better.”

I
felt the burning, stabbing sensation again, looking away from him,
and shaking my head.

Twenty-six

I
was walking back from the stream, my shirt thrown over my shoulder, a
string with two fish handing from it in my hand. They had been a
relatively easy catch.

Things
had gotten easier. Adjusting. Living on the land like I used to. It
wasn't easy, but it was okay. Hard work. It kept my mind busy. It
kept me from thinking about things I knew I shouldn't. Like light
green eyes. Like long black hair. Like a sweet, husky voice. Like
having her arms...

Fuck.

Alright
so maybe that whole forgetting her thing wasn't going as well as I
had planned. But, to be fair, there wasn't much around in the woods
to keep the mind occupied. The body, sure. The mind, not so much. And
there's only so many times you can read a manual about building a
root cellar before thoughts of one gorgeous, pale, perfect Darcy pops
into the mind, undoing a full hour of managing to not think about
her.