Tom Hayden

I feel stronger than I did an hour ago. Still not strong enough to securely sit up by myself, though.

I lay in Tom’s arms, my bare back against his bare chest. He lightly kisses the back of my head. His lips trail down my neck and over my shoulders. His hands lightly paw at my chest and stomach in rhythmic patterns that match his soft kisses.

His hands stop at my stomach, “I’m happy you’re finally eating well.” His lips find my ear, which he plays with briefly, “You’ve gained weight. You’re no fun when you’re starving.”

I want to react. To call him crazy. To explain I'm no longer eating. To tell him it’s not safe to eat. To tell him why I haven’t gained weight. No words come out. I’m frozen but I don’t think it’s because of the tranquilizer.

“If you let another man touch you, I will kill him in front of you. Do you understand?” His voice is low and pleasant, but the threat is real.

“Tom,” I breathe weakly.

“Chloe.” He purrs in my ear. His fingers begin digging into my skin. Something about this makes me nauseous.

I pull myself up just enough to lean over the edge of the small bed to vomit.

Tom sits up and pulls my hair back. Luckily, there isn’t much in my stomach to vomit. I fall back against the bed and close my eyes.

“What happened?” His voice is quiet. I don’t answer.

He quickly covers our bare bodies with the thin blanket and loudly calls, “Nurse!”

A nurse rushes in quickly. First, she seems curious. Then the annoyance on her face when she sees the mess is unmistakable. She cleans quickly while Tom settles back into hugging me. When she leaves with the mess, she leaves the door propped open.

He pets my hair and coos softly. The sudden tenderness is strange. I turn my face to examine him carefully. Is this my husband?

Tom ignores my stares.

Instead, he says, “when will you learn to behave? Aren’t you tired of being here?”

“I want…” each word I speak takes effort and concentration, “to go. I want to go… please… Tom.”

“You need to be here until you’re better,” Tom says.

“I’m… hungry… I… please—” I whimper. It’s safer to eat as much as I can when he’s here.

 If something happens with my food, he usually reacts. Plus, I get better food when he’s here. The nurses and chefs like to make it look like the high cost they charge for specialized care is worth it.

I don’t mind that they’re stealing my husband’s money. I blame him for that since he put me in here. But I only wish they’d give me the care and protection they were promising. I used to complain about this to Tom.

The nurses twisted my words and made me sound unhinged and unmanageable, and then they found reasons to start using the tranquillizers.

“You’re not starving, you’re…” Tom stops, his hands settling again on my stomach.

“What is it?” He’d never been that focused on my appearance. The pressure on my stomach is strange and fills me with an uncomfortable sensation.

Tom sits up and snaps at the nurses behind the door, “get a doctor. Now!”

The nurses glance inside the room to look at us, confused. I don’t look at his face, but his expression is enough to make them hurry away.

 He quickly throws his pants and shirt back on and wraps me in my hospital gown. My fingers are slow but they retie it while he slides on his belt and shoes. The nurse returns with a doctor and Dr. Hogan.

The fuzzy buzz from the muscle relaxer is still strong in my system, which helps me zone out of the tests. I hate the tests. My only sanctuary is somewhere far in my mind.

They moved me to one of the more advanced treatment rooms. I rarely visit this one. The doctors know I don’t belong here. I’m only here because Tom pays for me to be.

I’ve become very good at dissociating from the tests they run. I only wake up when Tom gasps, “pregnant?”

“About 26 weeks.” The doctor says, “you will need to be more careful moving forward. Your wife has a lot of bruising.”

“You’re pregnant?” Tom asks me.

I shake my head because I’m as confused as he is. But Tom never uses protection anymore. And his visits are regular. I’d noticed my period had stopped, but I blamed the malnourishment, sleep deprivation, and stress.

I didn't think my body would be healthy enough to carry a baby.

My hands rest over my stomach, and I notice for the first time that it is larger and firmer than it should be.

“Preg…. I have a baby?” I ask.

“Wait – why is there bruising?” Tom asks the doctors. No matter how rough Tom gets, there’s very rarely any physical evidence of it.

“I’ve told you, your wife is insatiable—” Dr. Hogan starts but he’s quickly cut off by Tom.

“Didn't you tell me my wife is almost completely insane?! Why would you leave her unsupervised?” Tom shouts.

Dr. Hogan stammers, seemingly lost for words. Finally, he says, “we watch her. There are always cracks – moments when our backs are turned. Your wife’s unwell, but she’s not a danger to herself. We occasionally do have more urgent patients.”

I don’t speak, but I know exactly when today’s bruising would’ve happened. It was two days ago.

A couple of doctors and nurses took me away for a few physical exams. They’ve gotten really bold in what they can do to me during these tests. They trust that I can’t speak clearly when Tom visits. They know his care for me is based on his possessiveness more than his love. I’m an easy target. And a desirable one, it would seem.

Today they aren’t as lucky, though. Today, thanks to this baby, my voice is returning while Tom is still here.

I look at Tom, hoping that somewhere in him is still a sense of decency and loyalty.

Before I can speak, though, Tom suddenly pins me back on the bed with his hand around my throat. Hot pressure builds in my head. I struggle to break free.

“Tom…” I choke out “Tom – please”

“Tell me this kid is mine. Tell me now or I’ll end it.” He hisses at me through clenched teeth. “I won’t let my wife carry another man’s bastard.”

I shake my head until I catch my breath, “It’s yours. Only yours.”

He continues to hold me, fury and confusion competing for dominance in his eyes. Finally, he releases me. He stands and says to the doctor, “is it too soon to check?”

“It’s uh… no, sir. We can check the child’s paternity.” The doctor assures him.

"Tom, they've been-" Tom interrupts me again.

“If it’s not mine, get rid of it.” He says, “and get rid of everyone responsible for my wife’s care.”

Tom shoots Dr. Hogan and the nurses a dark glare, which they quickly avoid. Then he walks out of the room, putting his jacket back on.

“Tom – please, come back!” I cry and attempt to lunge forward. I’m still not fast enough, my body still numb and flimsy, and the nurses quickly push me back. “Tom Hayden!”

Everyone but 2 nurses leave. Dr. Hogan gives me a dark, angry look of disgust before closing the door behind them. I recognize the nurses. One is a man who often attends and encourages the mocking and touching.

The other is a girl who is sweeter than most of the nurses here. But that’s not much of a compliment.

“Please,” I beg as they strap me to my gurney to bring me back to my room. “Get Tom—”

“She really is insatiable.” The man laughs as the woman puts a restraining gag over my mouth. “I can satisfy you if your husband won’t.”

I bite on the gag, trying to push it away from my tongue so I have enough space to scream. It falls back into place as soon as my mouth opens.

“Wait, don’t move her yet.” I feel the man run his hand up my leg and lift my hospital gown. I thrash a little but not as much as I once would have. It’s a hopeless battle, I know. “I want to see what bruising he’s talking about.”

The woman leaves my sight. I think she’s probably curious. I hear a light gasp from her.

“What did you guys do?” She sounds almost horrified. I wail into the restraint but no one responds.

“Nothing. We haven’t even fucked her before.” The man sounded annoyed.

I thrash and feel his hands settle on my thighs to hold me still. A twinge of fear spikes through me. I cry out, hoping maybe Tom is still nearby. I scream into the gag but that doesn’t stop the two nurses.

“I thought you guys did,” she says casually.

“No, Dr. Golfe says we can’t until Mr. Hayden becomes less involved. It’s been 2 years, you’d think he’d be bored by now.”

“Or you would be bored,” she mocks.

“Maybe after I finally get to play with her a few times,” his fingers run up my body and press into a spot that must have been bruised because it hurts immediately. The pain worsens as he digs his fingers deeper into my skin.

“Enough of that. We need to bring her back,” the girl says, “we have rounds to do.”

“It’s such a waste,” he grumbles as they get back into position to push me back to my room.

“What do you do with other patients?” She suddenly asks, her voice curious.

“Nothing,” he sounds sincere, “I only started playing with her because we got permission.”

Permission? Who would give them permission to touch me?!

I thrash in my restraints and start screaming for them to tell me that. The gag stops my cries from being heard but I still try. When we leave the room, I finally manage to see Tom standing with 2 nurses, Dr. Golfe, and April. Tom looks disgusted when his eyes land on me, April appears amused.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Hayden.” April calls too sweetly.

I ignore her, screaming for Tom to come talk to me. Screaming for the nurses to tell me who gave them “permission.” If Tom was in the hallway, why didn’t he come when I started screaming? Even if he couldn’t hear the clear words, why didn’t he respond? And why is he looking at me like that?

“The tranquillizer is running out,” I hear Dr. Golfe say.

I scream more and I scream harder, but they turn back to their conversation. My head falls as tears fill my eyes. Why can no one hear me scream?