Chương 7
“That sounds stupid.”
“No.”
“It does.”
“It sounds like what people say when they stayed because something changed slowly.”
I looked at him.
He stared at the floor.
“I read stuff.”
“When?”
“On the way here.”
“You were in an ambulance.”
“I had my phone.”
Of course he did.
Alex could not sit helplessly through anything without turning it into research.
“He used to apologize,” I said.
“For what?”
“For getting angry.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
I felt heat rise into my face.
“For grabbing me.”
Alex’s fingers stopped moving.
“For throwing things.”
He did not speak.
“For blocking doors when I tried to leave.”
His eyes closed briefly.
“He never hit me like this before.”
“Claire.”
“I know how that sounds.”
“No, I don’t think you do.”
His voice came out sharper than he intended.
I flinched.
He saw it.
His face changed instantly.
“Shit.”
“I’m fine.”
“No.”
He lowered his voice.
“I’m sorry.”
I hated that apology almost as much as I needed it.
The curtain opened before either of us could say more.
A hospital social worker entered carrying a folder.
She introduced herself as Denise and asked Alex if she could speak with me alone.
He stood.
I caught his wrist.
“Stay.”
Denise looked at me.
“Your choice.”
Alex sat again.
Denise pulled the second chair closer.
“I understand police were involved at the home.”
“Yes.”
“Did they tell you what would happen next?”
“No.”
She nodded.
“That’s common at this stage.”
She opened the folder but did not hand me anything yet.
“I can help with a safety plan, emergency protective order information, shelter options if needed, and contacts for victim advocacy.”
“I’m going to my brother’s.”
“That may be a good option.”
Alex said, “It is.”
Denise glanced at him.
“Provided Claire chooses it and the location can be kept secure.”
He nodded.
I watched the folder.
“There are guns at the house.”
Denise’s expression tightened slightly.
“Have you told police?”
“I told the nurse.”
“I’ll make sure that information gets communicated.”
Alex leaned forward.
“Can they take them?”
Denise did not pretend the answer was simple.
“That depends on the circumstances, applicable orders, and what law enforcement is authorized to do.”
Alex sat back, frustrated.
“So basically maybe.”
“Basically, there are procedures.”
He muttered something under his breath.
Denise ignored it.
My phone.
The thought struck me suddenly.
“My phone is broken.”
Alex looked at me.
“What?”
“He smashed it.”
Denise asked, “Was anything important on it?”
“Everything.”
I pictured photographs.
Banking apps.
My work email.
Prenatal appointment reminders.
Messages I had deleted because seeing them frightened me.
Messages I had kept for the same reason.
“Can someone recover it?”
Alex said, “The police probably took it.”
“I don’t know.”
Denise wrote something down.
“Ask the investigating officer before anyone handles or repairs it.”
I looked at Alex.
“My messages with Victor.”
His face sharpened.
“What messages?”
I hesitated.
“There are some.”
“Threats?”
“Not exactly.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means not exactly.”
He exhaled through his nose.
Denise said, “You don’t have to define them right now.”
I looked at her.
“He would text me after things happened.”
“What kinds of things?”
“Like when he punched the pantry door.”
Alex’s eyes snapped toward me.
I kept talking before he could interrupt.
“He wrote that I made him lose control.”
Denise’s pen stopped.
“Did you keep those messages?”
“Some.”
“Any photos of injuries?”
“A few.”
Alex stood so suddenly the chair scraped the floor.
“I need air.”
I looked at him.
He was pale.
“Go.”
He left without another word.
Denise waited until the curtain settled behind him.
“He’s angry.”
“Yes.”
“At you?”
“No.”
I looked toward the hallway.
“Maybe a little.”
“That doesn’t mean you owe him details before you’re ready.”
“I know.”
But I was not sure I did.
For years, I had treated other people’s emotions like bills with my name printed at the top.
Victor’s anger.
Helena’s disappointment.
Raúl’s contempt.
Nora’s discomfort.
Now Alex’s guilt.
I kept paying.
Denise slid a small card toward me.
“No pressure to decide anything today.”
I picked it up.
“Everyone keeps saying today.”
She looked at me carefully.
“Because today is usually overwhelming.”
“What happens tomorrow?”
“Different problems.”
I laughed despite myself.
“That’s not very comforting.”
“No.”
She gave me a tired smile.
“It’s more accurate.”
A nurse entered ten minutes later and said a police officer was asking whether I felt well enough to answer a few questions.
My heart began beating faster before I could stop it.
Denise noticed.
“You can say no.”
I looked at the fetal monitor.
Steady.
Fast.
Alive.
Then I thought about Victor standing in our kitchen saying she fell.
I thought about Helena telling Nora to delete the video.
I thought about the broken phone behind the trash can.
“No.”
Denise waited.
I took a breath.
“I mean, no, I don’t want to wait.”
The officer who entered was the same woman from the house.
She introduced herself properly this time as Officer Ramirez.
She had removed her jacket, and a coffee stain marked one cuff of her uniform.
“Claire, before we talk, I want you to know this does not have to be perfect.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“People think they need to remember everything in order.”
She pulled a chair closer.
“You don’t.”
My fingers tightened around Denise’s card.
“Did you find the stick?”
“Yes.”
“And my phone?”
“Yes.”
“Was it broken?”
“Yes.”
“Did you take it?”
“We documented it and collected it.”
I nodded.
Victor had tried to hide the stick.
He had destroyed my phone.
Those facts sounded different when someone else confirmed them.
Officer Ramirez opened a notebook.
“There’s something else I need to ask you before we begin.”
I looked at her.
“When we secured the bedroom because you told hospital staff about the firearm, we found the handgun safe.”
My mouth went dry.
“Okay.”
“It was open.”
I stared at her.
“That’s impossible.”
May you like
Ramirez did not move.
“The door was unlocked.”
