Chapter 6: Medical Truths They Refuse to Hear

They put me back in the guest suite.

Someone wrapped a clean blanket around me. Don't remember who. Stairs. A hand under my elbow that dropped the second I flinched. The hallway light was too bright.

Sat on the edge of the bed, hands pressed between my knees. Shaking stopped only because I held them still.

One of Lindsay's men inside the door. Dark coat. Hands folded. Didn't look at me. Stared at the wall like that was the whole job.

Nobody from the house was in the room. I noticed that. The same way you notice a door left open.

The doctor came ten minutes later.

Fifties. Gray in her hair. Leather bag dumped on the chair without asking. No uniform. Plain gray jacket. Moved slowly so the room felt less full.

"I'm Dr. Hale. The King asked me to look at you. You can say no to any of it."

Said nothing.

"I'll tell you before I touch anything. All right?"

Nodded once.

Washed her hands at the basin. Water ran forever. I think she did it on purpose.

"Arms first?"

Pushed the sleeves up. Left wrist bruise gone black. Others climbing toward the elbow, yellow at the edges, older than last night. Some nearly faded. Some with hard knots under the skin.

She looked for a while. Silent.

"Who did this?"

"I fell."

"Sandy." Soft. "Not from a fall."

"I fell a lot."

Let it hang. Picking up my wrist, the light turned it. thick, uneven line across the bone.

"Broken. Healed wrong. Nobody set it."

"Fine."

"Full fist?"

Tried. Fingers closed most of the way, then stopped. Pain shot up. I opened them again quickly.

Wrote on a little pad.

"Ribs and back next. Sheet over you."

Thought about no. Lindsay asked, though. Didn't want him digging at this house any harder. Not kindness. Just knew what curiosity did to me.

Turning to the window pulled the shirt up.

Air hit skin. Behind me, she froze.

Knew what she saw. Felt it every night in the cell, fingers tracing my spine, nothing else to do. Ribs washboard. Hip bones cutting the thin shirt. Last night's wall scrape was still raw. Older marks underneath. Long. Round. Some split and closed again.

"Here." Quiet. Pressed my side.

Hissed through teeth.

"Cracked or was. Knitting crooked." Fingers lower. "This. This."

"Hit hard." Came out before I stopped it.

First true thing. I wanted it back.

Didn't jump. Just "I'm sorry" and kept on.

Light in my eyes. Teeth. Mouth where a back tooth stayed loose for months. I asked for the last full meal. Said every day. What. Whatever they handed out. How much. Hands about bowl size.

"Once?"

"Sometimes twice."

"Water?"

"There was water."

Sat back. Face calm, mouth flat.

"Twenty-five pounds under. Body eating muscle. Heart slow. Hair thin. Nails ridged. Not weeks."

"Two years."

"Two years?"

Didn't answer.

Waited. Nothing. Folded hands.

"Not writing what you don't want. Have to ask, though. Someone hurt you on purpose for a long time?"

The doorman shifted. Listening. Straight to Lindsay.

"Don't want to talk about it."

"Not all of it."

"Any of it."

Voice steady. Surprised me. The rest still felt laid out on the archive floor.

Nodded slowly. "All right." Brown bottle from the bag. "What I see then. Tell me if I'm wrong."

I looked at the wall.

"Wolf, quite a long time. A year plus. The body stops healing right when that happens. Bones didn't set. Bruises stick."

Hands tight on the blanket.

"Not asking about her. Damage isn't your fault. Just what happens."

Swallowed. Throat raw from screaming. "Shirt down?"

"Yes."

Yanked it fast. Stuck to the scrape. No sound.

Packed up. Bottle on the table.

"Vitamins. Pain stuff. Small meals four or five times. Broth first. Nothing heavy." Pause. "Back tonight. I want someone sitting to say so."

"Fine."

Long look. Left no argument.

Thought done.

An hour later I knocked. The door opened.

Anderson in the hall. New jacket. Hair wet like he splashed his face. Eyes on me, then the bottle.

"Lindsay said I could. Hale gave him the report."

Nothing from me.

Came in slow. Stopped short of the bed. Paper folded heavy in his hand.

"Severe malnutrition." Cracked on the word. Throat clear. "Old fractures. Wrist. Two ribs, maybe three. Scarring from repeated beatings. Signs of long-term..." Stopped. Stared at the page. "Sandy wrote it. Long-term abuse."

"Prison."

"Not supposed to be this."

"Northern Labor."

"I sent you—" Cut off. Jaws worked. "Didn't know. Work sentence, they said. Hard labor. Nobody mentioned..."

Stopped.

Waited. Didn't finish for him. Old me would. Old me would smooth it over and hand it to him.

Paper in his pocket.

"Who? Guards? Inmates? Tell me I'll—"

"No."

"Sandy."

"Don't want to talk to Alpha."

Flinch again. I watched it. My mouth opened shut.

Breath. Decided something. Shoulders back. Face smooth. Pack mode.

"Exhausted. Been through a lot. Don't have to now. Leave it. When ready."

"Nothing to be ready for."

"Course." Nod too fast. "Prison changes people. Everyone says. Hard. Quiet. Soften once home a while."

Talking to himself.

"Maybe."

Settled him some. Shoulders dropped. I looked at the room blanket and the tray by the door, untouched.

"Not eaten."

"Not hungry."

"Hale said small." I brought the tray and set it beside me. Broth. Bread. Cold tea. "Little. For me."

Bowl. Steam gone.

Spoon up. Hand shook. Drop on the blanket. One mouthful, two. The stomach locked hard and had to breathe through.

He watched.

Spoon down.

"Enough."

"Okay. Fine."

Started more. Stepping in, reaching for the tray and sleeve brushed the bruise.

Hand away fast. Not flinching. Quiet like shifting a cup.

Didn't look.

Window.

Something in him went still.

I felt it. Hand half up, not on the bruise anymore. On where I looked. Away from him.

Nine years old, fell from the garden wall, knee torn open. Ran the lawn bleeding, crying, and couldn't breathe. Not to Mrs. Elizabeth. To him. Sixteen under the oak reading. The book dropped, caught me before the ground.

Every time I hurt, I ran to him. Every time.

Saw him remember. Face pale has nothing to do with the paper.

Hand down.

"Rest."

Quieter.

Left. The door shut. Coat man back to the wall.

Sat for a long time with cold broth next to me.

My wrist still hurts. Held it in the other hand. Didn't think about who I wanted to show.