But there was no stopping it once it started until all there was in my stomach was gone, leaving me desperately blowing my nose and wiping my face.
I sat there on my ankles for a long moment, cold and hot all at once, not sure which I wanted more.
To know.
Or never to.
I could know, I imagined.
If I walked out, asked Ranger to bring me into whatever was the closest town, go to a hospital, ask for a rape kit. Knees in stirrups as someone scraped around inside me.
The idea made my stomach swirl as I moved to stand, reaching for the flush handle, finding an odd lever I had missed before.
I couldn't claim to know a lot about homesteading and small house living, but I knew enough to be able to recognize the concept of a composting toilet at least.
It was then I noticed a bucket of the chips sitting beside the toilet. A bit unsure, I grabbed a handful, covering up the contents of my stomach, then turning the lever in a few circles before gaining my feet, buttoning my shirt back up, reaching for the sink faucet, turning it, almost a little surprised when clear water trickled out. I rinsed out my mouth with shaking hands, then found the courage to move back out of the privacy of the bathroom, finding Ranger standing in his kitchen, hand gulping up a speckled mug.
"Coffee?" he asked. "No fancy shit," he added, making no comment about my throwing up which must have been rather loud to him in such a small space.
"I, ah, I don't know what you mean by fancy shit. But if you have milk and sugar..."
"That I have," he agreed, moving around, making it without asking how light or how sweet.
Not that I was about to complain. With a mind as foggy as mine - any coffee was better than no coffee.
"Want food?" he asked, sliding a mug toward me, sitting down across from me.
"Probably not a good idea just yet," I admitted, looking down at the steaming caramel-colored liquid.
There was a long beat, just the sounds of nails on the floor as the dog from the room came to sit down beside me.
"So what are you gonna do?" Ranger asked, making me take a steadying breath, unable to find words. "You want me to bring you to a doctor? Runs some scans, check my stitches, give you some antibiotics just in case, run a kit."
The last part made my head snap up, finding him watching me with those deep eyes.
"Saw the bruises too," he informed me, making no small bit of embarrassment flood my system, realizing with clarity for the first time that he had seen me completely naked while I was unconscious. "You want a test," he added. "You need to know."
"They'll bring in the police."
"Yeah," he agreed. "And you'll have to give your story."
"What story?" I demanded, voice a little high, hysterical. "I don't have a story," I added, voice lower, broken, prompting a little whimpering noise from the K-9 sentry who rested his head down on my lap.
"Captain."
"What?"
"His name is Captain. He likes you."
There was something comforting about his heavy, warm head weighing down on me, something that made the ache in my chest just a little more tolerable. My hand rested on his head as I took a breath that shook my body.
"Who is going to believe me when I say I have no idea what happened to me?"
"Anyone who takes a look at you." I could feel myself wince at those words, something that made his shoulders shrug. "Just being honest," he added. "You're not in great shape..."
"I saw that," I agreed.
"Some of my coworkers are waiting outside town. Miller... she... she could go with you if you want. Or we could wait until a family member or friend got he..." he trailed off as my head shook.
I didn't have any close family.
And the closest things I had to friends were coworkers I occasionally went out with. No one I would want in an exam room with my legs spread.
"Coworkers?" I asked instead of answering the question in his eyes.
"I work for someone in, ah, fuck. I always forget the technical term. Crisis management or some shit like that."
"What do you do? From the middle of the Pine Barrens?" I added.
"People hide here when they need to disappear. Or have someone keep an eye on them, so they don't get in any more trouble."
"That makes sense," I agreed even if it certainly didn't. I mean, yeah, it made sense that they would hide out in the woods with him, but not why he was in the woods to begin with.
"You want to head out now, or you need a few?"
Closing my eyes, I forced back the twinge of tears that threatened.
I could break down later.
Now, I needed to get this over with.
"Now," I told him, taking a sip of my coffee, looking for courage in it.
"What do you weigh?"
"I'm sorry?" I asked, only half out of my seat.
"Got no shoes. Mine won't fit you. But you might be able to ride the donkey."
"I'm sorry... ride a donkey? All the way out of the pine barrens?"
To that, I got a snort. Like I was the one being ridiculous. "To my truck. Then we will drive out."
"One-forty," I admitted, only a little reluctantly as we made our way to the door, Captain right there at my side. "But why don't you park your truck closer to... oh," I trailed off as we moved outside.
Aside from the space where the house was situated, and a giant fenced area to the side, all you could see everywhere was trees. The sun above seemed too cheery on such a day, like the world gave no care to what had happened here the night before, what was going on inside me right now.
I don't know how long I stood there, blinking up at the blinding sky, but it must have been a while. Because then Ranger was there, a donkey and a trio of dogs at his side, arm extended to me.
"He's friendly. Docile. You won't fall off." With that, he grabbed me with those giant baseball mitts he called hands, yanked me clean off my feet, and dropped me up on the saddle.
The ride was made in crushing silence, each clomp of hooves and shuffle of dried leaves across the forest floor just rattling my nerves all the more. So much so that I missed the monster of a truck looming in the distance, didn't even notice we had come to a stop. I let out a low shriek when I felt hands touching me, looking down to find Ranger's brows furrowed, a line between his brows that spoke of curiosity or concern - or both.
"Just me. Gonna help you down."
"I, ah, I have it," I told him, shaking my head, all too aware that the angle was optimal for him to get a complete eye full of my panty-less state. I knew better than to imagine he didn't notice how I had carefully tucked the shirt upon getting into the saddle, but that didn't mean I wanted him to see me do a shuffle that would hopefully spare my pride.
"Alright," he agreed, shrugging, turning away.
My stomach pitched as I almost fell backward before righting myself then sliding downward, feeling a tongue lick up the side of my leg as I met the ground.
"No, Cap, you stay," Ranger demanded to the dog who moved to follow us. "I said stay," he added, voice firmer when the dog whined and moved to follow despite the order.
"What about the donkey?" I asked, following behind him, a little lost puppy in the big, bad woods.
"The dogs'll lead him home."
"Really?" I asked, tone dubious.
"Yep."
Well, this Ranger guy wasn't much of a talker. And as we started on the seemingly endless car ride, I had never before craved conversation as much as I did then, wanting some reprieve from the ugliness taking over my mind, darkening the whole world with it.
By the time, hours later according to the clock on the dash, we broke through to some old back road, the queasiness returned, and I was pretty sure I was choking on my heart that had somehow managed to break free of my ribcage to lodge in my throat.
"Those are my people," Ranger's gruff voice announced a while later, too loudly for an enclosed space, making me jolt in my seat, arm flying out to whack into the window.
"Gunner and Miller," he added, lowering his voice slightly, jerking his chin toward the road ahead where an SUV and a truck with a horse trailer were situated.
Pulling the truck up to the other truck, we found both a man and a woman sitting, waiting, in the same vehicle together. Ranger rolled down my window, leaning forward to talk to the man in the driver's seat with lighter hair and a full beard. The woman - a dark-haired, dark-eyed, pretty woman with a slightly olive skin tone - leaned forward to be seen, eyes moving over my face, something in her gaze steeling before she abruptly turned, threw open her door, stormed around the back of the car, and climbed into the small backseat to the truck cabin.
"Let's go," she demanded, tapping the back of Ranger's seat. "We can update Gunn once she gets some medical attention," she added when Ranger paused.
Then, surprisingly, the unmovable man put the car back into drive, following the instructions of the somewhat petite woman in his backseat.
"Do you want us to wait for you to call a friend or family member to meet you before the exam?" Miller asked.
"I, ah, no. I don't have anyone to come. It's okay," I added, shrugging it off as though it was, as though I didn't feel sicker by the moment as we finally turned off onto a busy road, as we - presumably - got closer and closer to a hospital.
My breathing started to shallow out, and I sat there unraveling the bandages on my hands just to have something to do, looking down at the raw scratches covering my palms. From the forest floor, I imagined. Twigs and needles and such.
"I don't have shoes," I mumbled as we pulled up toward the looming all-white hospital, windows gleaming, lot packed. Somehow, more than knowing I would have every inch of me examined, be questioned by cold-eyed police officers, the idea of stepping my bare feet on a filthy hospital floor was troubling me.
"Socks in the duffle," Ranger's voice mumbled, lower, almost quiet, seemingly to Miller who I heard unzipping said duffle, shuffling things around, producing a pair of giant black socks, handing them to me.
Leaning down, I removed the bandages from my feet, slipping on the socks in their place as Ranger moved over toward the emergency room entrance.
He pulled to the curb, no one saying a word, the silence the loudest noise I had ever heard before.
It took an embarrassingly long time to find the strength to raise my hand, to close it around the door handle, to push it open, to step outside. I was vaguely aware of Miller's door opening and closing as she moved to stand beside me.
"I... I don't think I..." I mumbled, shaking my head.
"Sure you can," she told me, her hand closing over mine, curling my hand into a fist so as not to touch my scratches, but holding on. "We will do this together, okay?" It was more of an assurance than a question as she charged forward, bringing me with her, walking me up to the front desk where a woman was trained to show no alarm had her deep-set grey eyes widen when they looked up to land on my face.
"I, ah, I need a..." I took a breath that in no way steeled my nerves. But we were here. This was happening. I found the words anyway. "I need a rape kit," I told her, swallowing past the fist of fear in my throat.
From there, it was all a blur.
I had a basic examination, doctors brows furrowed at my stomach wound, at the stitching. My pee was taken. My blood was taken.
From there, a specific team was called out of nowhere while I waited in a back room with a door and all - no curtains hinting at privacy you would never truly know. They filed in, telling me their names, talking about the process of the exam. Everyone had calm, reassuring voices.
By the time I was coaxed into position, the only thing I could do was shut down, shut everything down. No thoughts, no feelings, just a body I felt no attachment to.
It wasn't until I felt Miller's hand give mine a squeeze that I snapped out of it, finding the nurse standing over me, eyes expectant.
"The police are here," Miller explained. "They need your statement," she clarified.
My stomach rolled, wondering if they would believe me, if they would think I was crazy, if there was even any point to it if I didn't remember what happened to me. There would be nothing to go on, after all.
My head nodded despite the swirling, conflicting thoughts in my head.
It wasn't until the police moved in that I realized I had been so out of it that I hadn't heard the doctor or nurse or anyone talking. I didn't know what the test results were.
I still had no idea what happened to me.
But there was no time as the detectives introduced themselves, asked if they could ask me questions. As though I had much say in the matter.
"I woke up in the woods," I told them a moment later. "The Pine Barrens," I clarified. "I, ah, I have no idea how I got there."
There were questions then, some probing, some veiled insinuations. Like I was a drug addict. Like I was only pretending not to know.
As though I would cover for someone who sliced me open.
"After you woke up, what happened?" one of the detectives asked.
For some reason, my gaze went to the window, seeing the line of trees in the distance, picturing Ranger's home there, his little sanctuary. From people. From modern life.
And for some reason, a lie came out of my lips.
"I walked until I found the road," I told them, taking a deep breath before turning back. "And flagged down a car," I added, looking over toward Miller.
"My boyfriend and I just got back from a trip. I had his duffle bag in the trunk. So I gave her a shirt and socks. And brought her here," Miller said without missing a beat. I realized right there that I would never want to go up against Miller in a card game. She had the best poker face I had ever seen. Whatever she did in crisis management, I bet she did it well.
From there, I was asked about my last memories, what I had done, what I remembered about where I had been in the woods, how long I walked, if I had seen anyone.
It was about an hour later when Miller and I were alone again.
"Why did you lie?" Miller asked.
I could feel her gaze on me, probing.
And, quite frankly, I had dealt with enough probing.
"The horse trailer you brought, that was for Ranger's animals, right?" I asked, chancing a look at her. "In case I told the truth, and the police searched the Barrens for the man who lived there with his animals and his stitching abilities."
"Yeah," she agreed, nodding.
"I figure it doesn't matter if he stitched me up or whoever did this to me did it. Not in the grand scheme of things. Why should I screw up his life just because someone screwed up mine?" I asked, taking a deep breath, turning to look out the window again.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Miller texting. Likely Ranger and Gunner. Telling them they were safe. They could go about their lives.
"I'm sure you have something else to do today," I told her, voice sounding far away even to my own ears, distracted, zoned out again.
"What are you going to do when you leave here?" she asked, not denying that she had other things to do.
"I don't know," I admitted.
"You don't have any of your IDs or cards or car..."
"I know."
"Meadow, I know I'm nobody to you, but I don't know if being alone is the best thing right now. Let me call someone for you."
"There's no one to call. Thank you for being here for me. I'm sure it wasn't what you wanted to do with your day."
"I wouldn't be anywhere else," she told me.
There was a shuffling sound that I couldn't seem to force my head to turn to place before I could hear her footsteps leading to the door.
"This is going to get figured out," she told me, tone definite. But before I could try to deny her, she was gone.
She'd left a stack of money on the top of the nightstand. I took a deep breath, tucking it into the drawer while I waited for someone to come back, to tell me where to go from here.
It felt like ages before the door creaked open, bringing in the
nurse and doctor again.
I was free to go.
With some antibiotics, which was what Ranger had said.
I had twenty-four hours to decide if I wanted the results of my test to go to the police.
"Was I raped?" The words came out weighted and slow as my gaze slid back to the nurse with warm brown eyes.
At the words, they went a little sad.
"There is evidence of sexual activity," she told me. "Whether it was forceful or not is a bit inconclusive. There was no semen."
I didn't have a boyfriend.
And while I couldn't claim to have never engaged in casual sex in my life, I hadn't had any strong urges to get out and find a man in a long while. It seemed unlikely - though not wholly impossible - that I had maybe gone out, chatted with a guy. Who maybe spiked my drink.
"Miss Holland," the doctor said, voice a little firmer. "We need to talk about your test results."
There were words then.
Words that made no sense, at least not with relation to me.
Words like cocaine.
Words like abuse.
Words like addiction.
Words that made them look at me differently.
Like everything I said was undermined by the fact that there were drugs in my system. Like everything was my fault because of that.
To them, I was just another drug addict.
Just another victim of an epidemic.
I sat there mostly in silence as advice on treatment was condescendingly handed to me, as the nurse gave me a pair of lavender scrubs to put on along with a pair of flip-flops from the lost and found.
"Do you need to call anyone?" the nurse asked as I was handed my prescriptions.
"No," I told her, not caring that my voice was curt as I reached into the nightstand to tuck the money into my pocket.
With that, I signed my release paperwork, and walked out of the hospital.
I should have been panicking.
I should have been thinking about my credit cards, my lost time, what it meant that I had cocaine in my system, what my work thought. The fact that I had no cell phone to try to start getting my life back together.
The Babysitter Page 4