No Way Back (Mia's Way, #1) (21 page)

I obey and suit up, not liking the feel of plastic against my skin at all. It feels cheap. Robin waits with a smile then opens the door opposite the entrance. I walk into the room beyond and stop.

Chris knows about the abortion. There’s no such thing as freaky coincidences that find me standing in a place like this! He’s too smart; I have no idea how he figures this stuff out, and I hate him for it. What is he doing? Trying to change my mind?

I’m surrounded by newborn babies. Some are fussy. Most are sleeping. They’re arranged in neat rows of fifteen. A lot of them are wearing pink or blue hats while the others have maneuvered out of the hats.

“At the far end are bottles in a warmer. All you need to do is walk around, check the charts, and feed the ones whose charts say it’s time.” Robin’s voice is quiet, so as not to wake the babies. She shows me a chart marked with a bottle and the time.

“He’s sleeping,” I say, peering into the first crib.

“It’s ok. Wake him up. He might complain, but it’s only until he figures out its time to eat.”

I don’t think I can do this. Robin is smiling still. I feel like I owe her after the time she spent with me when I was on this floor. Hands trembling, I approach the warmer on the opposite side of the room and return with a bottle.

“Just put it to his mouth. If he doesn’t wake up at that, just nudge him gently.”

I watch her place her hand on the boy’s chest and rub. The baby wakes up. His face skews, until he realizes the bottle is there. His tiny mouth opens, and he starts to drink.

“You’ll have to stand here for a few minutes. Let him eat until he seems full. Hold the bottle. They aren’t old enough to hold it themselves yet.”

I carefully take her place. I breathe deeply to keep the nausea and tunnel vision away.

“If you need anything, call me on the intercom,” Robin says, indicating the speaker in the side of the wall by the door. “If you don’t feel comfortable, don’t pick them up. If you do, go ahead. Alicia will follow and burp them.”

“Okay,” I say. Alicia is a tiny black lady in the back, already holding one baby.

Robin leaves me. I want to scream. I’m scared and perfectly still, afraid of disturbing the drinking baby. He looks so tiny, so frail. His face is wrinkly and his chubby hands waving around. Should I feel something other than terror?

I lightly touch his hand and can’t believe how soft his skin is. His eyes are dark brown-blue. I’m not sure what color they should be, but the mixed color is pretty. I can’t believe something like this little boy is growing in me. It doesn’t seem possible. It doesn’t seem real. But it
is
real. In nine months, I could be holding my own little boy. Or girl. My gaze goes to the girl in the next crib over.

They’re so helpless, so small.

I’m starting to panic. I focus on the baby’s round face and taking deep breaths. I can’t think about Chris right now. I can’t think about being pregnant. Instead, I concentrate hard on the task at hand.

I survive the natal ward. By the time it’s noon and time for me to go, I’ve fed fifteen babies. I strip mechanically, struggling to maintain the thin layer of control I have over myself. I even manage to smile at Robin as I walk off of the pediatric floor. Safe in an elevator, I slump. My body shakes, and I feel sick.

Hopping off on the second floor, I double check the internet browser I have open on my phone to the directory of the hospital. The second floor is where I want to be. But first, I go to the nearest bathroom.

I throw up. Clinging to the toilet seat, I vomit everything I’ve eaten for the whole weekend, or so it feels like. When my stomach stops heaving, I sag against the wall. My head throbs, and I prop it upon the heels of my hands. Calming, I pull out my phone and text Chris.

Fuck you.

I don’t know what else to say. I’ll piss off my keeper, but I don’t care. I want him to be as upset as I am right now. I want him to feel my pain, because it’s raw again, and it’s not going away.

My phone vibrates.

I need you to be sure.
His response isn’t what I expect.

My eyes water. I stand, angry. I blot my face and repair my make-up then rinse out my mouth. The acidic taste is still there. Disgusted, I finish cleaning up and leave the bathroom, stopping in the first snack room I find. I grab a Sprite and stand there, drinking. My phone vibrates again. I assume it’s Chris, maybe texting to bitch at me for my text. After a minute, I look at it.

Hey. How’s life?

It’s Dom. My heart quickens. I’m suspicious, but I know I made myself clear. If he starts on anything about testifying, I’ll tell Chris this time. At least, this is what I tell myself. I’ve wanted Dom to text for days now, since I walked out on him. I want him to be different. Maybe he is. Or maybe, he’s playing me.

I won’t get pulled into that game again with him.

Meh.
I type back. I tap send, hesitate, then type another message.
At hospital. I want to see Number Eight.

I tuck the phone away. I’ve been ready to back out all day, but now that I told Dom what I’m doing, I can’t. I walk down the hallway, past the nursing station and to the double doors leading to the ICU. Heart pounding, I push one open and enter. The hallways here seem whiter, if that’s possible, and the air heavier.

Shoving my shaking hands into my pockets, I walk slowly past doorways and halls. I stop at the nursing station in the center of the ICU.

“I’m here to see … Tanya,” I say. “I don’t know where she is.”

“Relative?” the nurse asks, looking up.

“Um, we went to school together.”

The nurse looks me over. Apparently, I pass her inspection.

“Sign in.” She pushes a visitor log at me. “Go down the hall behind you, fourth door on the right. Only family is allowed in her room, but you can see her from the window and talk to her family.”

“Thanks.” I fill out the visitor’s log. My phone vibrates. I pull it out as I turn to start down the hallway.

I’m proud of you.
Dom’s words make my throat tighten. He didn’t take the bait, didn’t remind me about coming forward. Okay, so maybe he’s capable of being a real human. I’m not sure I know how to take that, but I think I’m relieved. Everyone in the world can’t be as fucked up as my family.

I draw an unsteady breath, put the phone away, and stop in front of the fourth door on the right. It leads to a short hallway, with three closed doors and walls of windows on the left. On the right are benches and plush chairs along the wall.

Someone is sleeping on one couch. Uncomfortable, I cross to the first set of windows and look inside. There’s a small waiting area with chairs and a table close to the window and a room with three beds on the other side. An older woman is seated next to the nearest bed.

The girl in the bed, Tanya, has a bandaged head. She’s got tubes and IVs hooked up all over her body, and the skin on her face is bruised. She’s unconscious, with one leg in a sling and one arm in a cast. I can’t see the rest of her body beneath the sheets, but I read she was beaten all over by a crowbar or something metal. She’s been in a coma since that night. I can’t see a lot of the damage, but I can imagine it.

My own rape flashes in my mind. I recall the pain as they slammed something metal into my back, my thighs then my head. About to pass out, I very carefully cross the space between the window and the chairs along the wall and sit.

I whisper the chants Dr. Thompkins gave me and cradle my head in my hands, struggling to breathe deeply. I let Daddy dissuade me, and this happened. It’s not his fault, though, because I had the power. It was my choice not to talk to Dom. Gianna says it’s not my fault this happened. Sitting across from the latest victim, I know she’s wrong.

This is all my fault.
I text Dom.

Chris texts to say the car is waiting for me. I don’t know where I find the strength, but I manage to stand. I approach the glass again and raise my phone, snapping a picture, before I leave. By the time I reach the first floor, I’m running. I fling myself into the car and curl up in back, crippled by memories and what I saw.

Number Eight has a name. Tanya. If she dies, I killed her.

No, Mia, it’s not your fault. No matter how angry you are at me, I hope you can believe me. I’m being straight with you.

Dom’s text comforts me. I don’t know why he doesn’t hate me. I don’t know why he’s kind to me. I’m a worse person than Robert Connor. If Robert Connor doesn’t rot in jail, I should.

I’ve never hated myself more than I do right now.

Chapter Sixteen

I’m a zombie when I arrive to my first day of school Tuesday. It’s too early, and I slept like crap. The hallways are too crowded. After the morning assembly, I go to my locker and shove the stack of books into it.

“What the hell?” Ari demands, appearing at my side. “I tried to call you a million times last night!”

“I know,” I mumble.

“You look awful.”

“Yeah.” I grab the books I think I’ll need for the morning and close the locker. “Did you sign me up for cheer squad?”

“Duh. Right after school. You sure you’re up for it?”

“I need something to take my mind of things.”

Ari studies me. I’m jealous of her cheerful expression. Make-up doesn’t cover the circles under my eyes, and the dark school uniform makes me look washed out.

“Hi, Mia!”

I look up at the familiar voice. Benji Allen, the boy I’ve had a crush on for a couple of years, is standing behind Ari. He looks like Ken doll with perfect teeth, blond hair and green eyes. Usually, when he talks to me, I feel butterflies in my stomach. I don’t today. He looks at Ari, as if hinting for her to leave.

Ari doesn’t.

“I saw your pic in the paper from the ball the other night. You looked great!” he says. “Thought I’d see if you’re, you know, interested in hanging out this weekend.”

“I thought you and Jenna were still a thing?” Ari asks.

“Nah. That’s been over since June.”

Jenna and I are usually co-captains of the cheer squad. We’re frenemies. In the locker rooms, it’s war. In front of the school, we’re friends. I used to think the only reason she dated Benji was to piss me off, because everyone knows I’ve liked him forever.

“Maybe,” I say.

“Great. I’ll give you a call.” Benji flashes a smile and leaves.

I watch him go. He’s got a body girls drool over and a smile that’s friendly and confident.

“Maybe?” Ari whispers. “Maybe? The hottest guy in school asks you out, and you say
maybe
?”

I shrug. “I don’t feel like dating. I don’t think I ever will.”

“This could be good. You can hook me up with him.”

“Omigod, Ari! I just … I wonder how much everyone knows about my summer,” I say, grinding my teeth.

“Anyone who can read the news or saw it on TV. Or online. Or knows someone who –”

“I get the point, Ari!”

“Come on. Let’s go to our first class.” Ari sounds as eager as I feel. “Did I tell you I’m thinking about graduating early?”

“Can you do that?”

“I can. I get good grades. You … probably not.”

“If you do, I do, too,” I tell her, irritated. “You can’t leave me here alone.”

“True.” Ari stops outside a classroom. “Good luck. See you at lunch.”

I trudge into the classroom. Everyone else but me seems to be excited to be there and talk about their summers. I sit in back and pull out my phone to text Ari. A shadow crosses my desk, and I glance up.

“We’re in the same class. We got a lame first period,” Benji says, winking at me. He slides into the seat beside mine.

“Yep.” I return my attention to the phone.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. There was a time I’d die if he sat beside me or talked to me. The most popular boy in school, Benji was also widely considered to be a nice guy. He should be everything I’m interested in: athletic, bright, from a good family and nice.

Some part of me died this summer. I can’t get the image of Tanya out of my mind. I can’t really focus as the instructor stands up and gives us an overview of the class.