Broken World

by Ford, Lizzy

  “Next weekend, when you go to have your dress fitted. In the adjacent building is an office discreetly known to provide … services to clientele like us. They ask no questions and take no advance appointments. They don’t even take full names, though it’s not hard to figure out who we are, if they want to. There’s a pedestrian bridge connecting the two buildings. I’ll text you the phone number and room number,” Molly says. “Are you certain, Mia?”

  “This is for …” I point to my stomach. My heartbeat picks up.

  She nods.

  “Yeah. I’m scared, though.”

  “So was I. If Daddy found out …” Molly shakes her head.

  “Wait, is this the only reason why you invited me to your wedding?” I ask, frowning.

  “Let’s just say, it’s a good cover.”

  I shouldn’t feel crushed. I should know better than to think she’d invite me solely because we’re related, when she could replace me with the daughter of another politician.

  “It’s the game, remember?” she says, reading my face. “I don’t have to do this. I wouldn’t for anyone else.”

  “I understand.” And I do. Dr. Thompkins would say she’s helping me the only way she knows how. Molly has limitations, too. “Thank you, Molly.”

  She raises an eyebrow again, this time in surprise.

  “I know you’re helping me,” I say, reinforcing what I know instead of what I feel. She’s right; she doesn’t have to help me.

  “You’re welcome.”

  She gives me a hard look, as if she thinks I’m being as insincere as she can be. I sip my herbal tea and say nothing. I check my phone. No text messages, even from Ari.

  It’s gonna be a long weekend.

  We chitchat for a little while longer. I’m growing to like Molly while learning just how much I can’t trust her. I don’t exactly know how to juggle those two.

  When I return home, Chris ambushes me when I walk in the door after brunch.

  “Study,” he orders.

  I roll my eyes and follow him. He sits down. There’s paperwork of some sort on the table, and I suck in a breath, terrified that what Dom said has come true. They’re gonna force me to go to court and face Robert Connor.

  “I’m doing your biweekly status report for the judge,” Chris says, motioning to the forms as he sits down. “So far, everyone is satisfied with your progress. I’m pleased to see you’re attending the Friday group sessions, too.”

  “Yeah. They’re fun.”

  He glances up at the sarcasm in my voice.

  I sit down across from him, waiting for bad news. He’s always got bad news.

  “With school starting, we have to adjust your hours at the women’s shelter,” he starts. “Tuesday and Thursday evenings, six to eight, and four hours on Saturdays and Sundays. It’ll give you time for cheer practice.”

  Cheer practice. I’ve forgotten all about school activities. I probably missed the sign-ups, unless Ari remembered.

  “Molly said you’re going to be a bridesmaid. While surprised, I guess you two have had a thaw.”

  “If that’s what you call it,” I reply. “She’s still a cold bitch in my book.” I don’t tell him I actually respect him for owning up to what she is.

  “She says you have a fitting next weekend?”

  “Yep.”

  “Are you sure?” Chris is looking at me closely. He steeples his fingers and taps the tips together.

  He can’t know why else I’m going to the bridesmaid appointment, can he? I’m beginning to wish someone would give me a guide to figure out the politics in my own family.

  “Um, yeah. Is that it?” I ask, knowing how well he can read people. If he doesn’t know something else is up, I’m not about to reveal it.

  “One more thing,” he says, considering. “School starts Tuesday. Instead of going to the shelter Monday, you’re spending a few hours at the hospital.”

  “Okay.”

  “Be ready and at the car at eight.”

  “Okay.”

  He doesn’t say anything else, but he’s still looking at me funny, like he wants to say something, but isn’t certain he should. I’m afraid he’ll ask me something that I’ll have to lie about to answer. There are days when I’m pretty sure he can read my mind, and it freaks me out.

  “Talk to you later,” I say and then flee the study for my room.

  Still no texts from Ari. God, I miss her!

  Chapter Five

  Monday morning, I trudge into the hospital, following an orderly or nurse or someone in scrubs through the hallways. I hate the way a hospital smells. Being in one after my last visit makes my skin crawl. I cross my arms, not wanting to touch anything.

  I can’t wait to leave and tell Ari how awful this place is. She lands this afternoon, enough time for us to talk about our weekends and decide where to meet up at school the next day. I need to ask her about cheer practice, too.

  I’m thinking hard about tomorrow to distract myself from my surroundings when I see another familiar face in zoo-animals scrubs.

  “Hey, Mia!” Robin smiles.

  “Hi, Robin,” I say, smiling back. I don’t remember a lot about my hospital stay, but I remember her smile and the zoo animals.

  “I hear you’re spending an hour or two here with me today. Let me show you around the pediatric ward.”

  I trail her as she shows me the nursing stations, long term rooms, intensive care area, bathrooms … basically everything. The floor is quiet for being the kids’ ward. I stop when we walk by a room that feels too familiar and I look inside. It’s dark.

  I flip on the lights. My instinct is correct. This was my room. It’s empty now, the pristine white bed waiting for the next patient to come in. Weirded out, I back into the hallway. I’m struck by another thought and pull out my phone, Googling the latest rape victim.

  “Come on. I’ll suit you up. I have an easy duty for you,” Robin calls from down the hall.

  I wave to show I heard and walk slowly, absorbed with my online hunt. With mixed feelings, I see the latest rape victim is here. I look around then recall she’s not a minor. She won’t be on this floor.

  I join Robin in the clean room. She’s putting on plastic booties and a robe over her scrubs. I watch her place a hair net over her head and wash her hands before putting on gloves.

  “Wash your hands first, then put on all that gear.” She points to another set of over clothes.

  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 it’s 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 in the kids’ wing. 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 inside 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 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 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. 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. Are you okay?

  I feel sick, but I call him.

  “Chris,” I can barely say his name.

  “Hey, Mia,” he replied softly. “I’m sorry I upset you.”

  I nod. I can’t really talk.

  “You’re so young to be making such a decision, Mia. I know you’re confused and angry. I don’t want you doing something that you can’t live with later,” he continues.

  I’m struck again by how much more concerned he is for me than my own father.

  “They’re so little,” I manage.

  “You were that little once, too,” he says. “I was with your mother at the hospital when you were born. You cried when everyone else held you, but not when I did.”

  Of course he was there. I was born during re-election season. It’s not like my daddy would’ve taken time out of his schedule for me.

  “Maybe I knew you’d sue me if I did,” I say.

  “Maybe.” Chris chuckles. “Or maybe baby-Mia knew I cared about her and just wanted what was best.”

  I lean my head back against the wall, still furious, but knowing he’s right.

  “Maybe,” I whisper.

  “The car’s there. There’s ice cream waiting for you when you get home.”

  “Okay.” I hang up, overwhelmed.

  With effort, I stand and cross to the sink. 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 again. 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, the way my family does.

  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 just 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 beli
eve 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 Six

  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 off 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 has 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.