Somewhere Safe

Claribel's POV

"Sit down, Clar."

Dr. Martinez didn't look up when I walked in Monday evening for my shift. She looked like she hadn't slept all weekend, and she was glaring at a newspaper on her desk like it owed her some money.

I pulled out the chair and I sat down hard. My hands wouldn't stop shaking on my laps.

"Dr. Martinez, I can explain..."

"Explain what?" She turned the paper around and pushed it across the desk. "This?"

"It's not what it looks like I swear.”

"It looks like my best doctor was found in bed with the Llewellyn heir." Her eyes were hard, but her mouth was shaking. "The medical board met this morning. They want you out."

"Out?"

"Administrative leave." She slid an envelope towards me. "Effective now. Indefinite."

My stomach dropped. "How long is indefinite?"

"Until this dies down. Months, maybe."

"Please. This job is all I have left. After Cardiff, nobody else would..."

"I know." She rubbed her forehead. "I fought for you, Clar. When no one else would touch you, I did. But this… I can't fight this."

"I don't even know how it happened!" My voice cracked in the quiet office. "I swear, I don't remember."

"Then maybe you should find out." She nodded at the door. "Your things are packed."

A cardboard box sat by the door with my coffee mug on top. Someone had even thrown in my stethoscope, like they wanted to be sure I couldn't come back for it.

Two security guards walked me out. Nurses crowded behind the station with their phones up.

One of them whispered, loud enough for me to hear, "That’s her.”

I kept walking with my chin high. For six months I'd worked double shifts to prove I wasn't the doctor Cardiff said I was. One stranger's camera had undone it in a night.

The car park was even worse. Reporters rushed my car before I reached it.

"Dr. Evans! Did you sleep with Emrys Llewellyn to get your Cardiff job back?"

"Was this revenge against the Llewellyn family?"

I threw the box on the passenger seat and slammed the door. Cameras flashed through the glass, so close I could feel them on my face.

At home, I locked the door and slid down it until I hit the floor.

Then I pulled out my phone and called Emrys. It went straight to voicemail.

"Pick up, you coward." My fingers tightened around the phone. "Say something, Emrys. Anything. You owe me that much."

The call went straight to voicemail again.

By the ninth call, his mailbox was full. He'd let me take the fall once already. Apparently he was happy to do it twice.

I scrolled through the news, hoping some celebrity had divorced somebody and pushed me off the page.

Instead, a new post sat at the top. “SPOTTED: Dr. Evans leaves the hotel the morning after.”

It was me in the lobby, head down, hair across my face, my gown wrinkled.

Then I saw my neck. A dark mark sat just below my ear. I zoomed in until the picture went blurry. My heart stopped.

I ran to the bathroom, grabbed the edge of the sink and pulled my hair back.

There it was. Purple, round, and very clear… a hickey.

I had stood under that shower for twenty minutes and never once looked in the mirror.

I pressed two fingers against it. It didn't hurt. I couldn't remember anyone putting it there. Not a kiss, not a touch, not a single second of the night.

I'd told myself my body ached from a bad hangover. Now I wasn't so sure.

What else don't I know?

I wiped my face and called the hotel, using my firmest professional voice. I told the manager I’d been taken ill at the awards, and the next thing I knew, I was upstairs in a room I never booked.

“I want to know who took me there,” I said. “I want to see the lift and corridor footage from the fifth floor.”

He coughed. “I’m very sorry, madam. The cameras on that floor were down that night. A technical fault.”

“All of them?”

“Only that floor.”

I hung up and stared at the wall. A hotel full of cameras, and the one floor I woke up on had gone blind on the same night. That wasn’t a fault. Someone had made it one.

~~~

By Wednesday, I'd stopped answering anyone. Not Mum, not Sophia, not Braxton, who left three voicemails. “Eat something, Clar. I'm serious. I'll bring soup.”

I almost cried hearing those voicemails and seeing those messages. I turned off my phone, shut the curtains and stayed in bed in the same scrubs.

By Friday morning, my stomach growled so loudly it woke me up.

"Great.” I muttered into the pillow. "Even my own stomach is sick of me."

I hadn't cried once since Monday. I'd packed it all away somewhere, and I was scared of the day it would spill out.

I reached for my phone and switched it on. The screen lit up with a hundred notifications. I scrolled past all of them, looking for anything that wasn't me.

Then one popped up at the top of the screen.

“WEDDING ANNOUNCEMENT.”

My thumb hovered over it to click it open.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

I nearly dropped the phone.

"Clar!" My mother's voice came through the door. "Baby, open up!"

“Clar, open this door! Your phone’s been off for four days and I’m starting to think you’re dead! If you are, I’m taking your good boots!”

I looked at the clock. It was barely seven for fuck sake.

If I didn't answer, they'd go on until half the building woke up then someone would call the police on my mother and best friend for trying to kick down my door.

I looked at my phone again. The notification had vanished.

"Fine," I muttered. "I'm coming."

I dragged myself out of bed and opened the door.

Mum stepped in first and pulled me against her.

"Oh, baby."

Her hands moved over my tangled hair, then my cheeks, then my shoulders, like she was checking I was all there.

"I'm fine, Mum."

She gave me her ‘I-don't-believe-you-for-a-second’ look. "You haven't eaten, have you?"

Sophia came in behind her, shut the door and looked me up and down. "Girl, you look like you lost a fight with a bin."

"Good to see you too, Soph."

She wrinkled her nose and marched to the window to rip the curtains open. "It smells like feelings in here. Sad ones”

“Eat this.” She slapped a sandwich into my hand. “If you faint, I can’t carry you. I skipped leg day for years and I regret nothing.”

She looked at me for a moment before she pulled me into a tight hug. I tried to shove her off out of habit, but my arms wrapped around her instead.

Just for a minute, I didn't have to pretend to be okay.

"Right. Rules." Sophia held up three fingers. "One, you shower. Two, you eat. Three, we do not g****e ourselves."

"Too late."

"I know." She sighed. "I did it at two a.m. I'm still sorry. You've also lost weight, and I hate you for it."

I almost laughed. It came out as a wet little hiccup.

When we pulled apart, Mum's eyes were wet, but she turned her head quickly so I wouldn't see. She was looking at the cold toast she'd left outside my door days ago, still untouched.

Her phone buzzed in her bag. She glanced at it, switched it off without reading it and shoved it deeper inside.

Then she took my hand, her fingers were trembling, and she wouldn't meet my eyes.

"Mum? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, baby." She squeezed my hand too tightly. "We're getting you out of here. Somewhere safe."