“Tell me about it when I wake up.”
My eyes closed just as my sister’s voice could be heard, my friends, too.
“Oh, my God!” Bronagh cried. “Is she dead? She looks worse!”
“No,” Damien replied instantly. “She was just talking to me. She’s really weak from blood loss, and the nurse came in after you left to talk with the doctor and upped her morphine to manage her pain. With that combination it’s no wonder she’s out. I’m surprised she woke up so soon in the first place.”
“What did she say?” Alannah’s voice asked, nervousness sounding in her tone.
“She wanted water, so I gave her some. She wasn’t really with it, but she knew who I was which is good. It means her memory isn’t affected.”
“Thank God,” a few voices murmured.
“What did the doctors say to you about her?” Damien quizzed.
“He said it could have been a lot worse,” Alec explained. “She has flesh wounds, but nothing serious now that the bleeding is stopped. A few of her ribs are bruised, her face, too, but that’s it. No long term damage.”
“It’s not the physical damage I’m worried about,” Keela said, her voice tight with what I think was emotion. “It’s the mental. What that bastard did to her will haunt her.”
“You all were exposed to evil like Branna was, and you have overcome it.” Alec quickly stated. “She will, too. She’s strong.”
Be strong.
“Please,” my sister whispered close to my ear. “Don’t leave me. I love you so much, Branna.”
I love you, too.
I wanted to verbally say it, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t speak or move. My senses were beginning to shut down.
“You got this, Bran,” Aideen said, and I wanted to force myself to open my eyes when I could hear in her voice that she was about to cry. “You’re too strong not be okay.”
Be strong.
I heard quick paced footsteps, then a loud intake of breath.
“Oh, Christ, she looks even paler than before!”
Ryder.
“She’s okay,” everyone whisper-shouted in unison.
I heard more movement, and then I felt a hand on my chest, and a hand on the crown of my head then lips on my forehead.
“I’m so sorry,” Ryder whispered. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
“Ry,” my sister sniffled. “She’s goin’ to be okay. She won’t leave us, I know she won’t.”
I felt a droplet of liquid fall onto my cheek, then another one quickly landing on my nose. I didn’t know what it was, until I heard sniffling right next to me.
Oh, please, no.
“I love you so much,” Ryder said, his voice breaking. “Please, don’t go anywhere.”
He was crying. I heard his sobs perfectly as he pressed his face against mine, and I knew that everyone in the room heard him, too, because he wasn’t trying to hide the fact that he was crying, he was wailing as if nobody was watching.
It was then that I fully shut down and silently drifted into darkness, even though inside, I was screaming.
Three weeks later…
“I’m goin’ for a walk,” I said to my sister. “I’m goin’ batshit crazy being cooped up in here.”
It had been three weeks since the attack and death of Big Phil, and my life had become a shit-storm. An even bigger one than before.
Health wise—I was on the mend and each day my pain became less and less. I got more movement out of my shoulder and leg without nagging discomfort as well which I was most thankful for because being bed ridden wasn’t for me at all, I was used to being on my feet and suddenly being off them sucked.
Work wise—I was on paid leave. The Health Board was made aware of what happened to me, and they booked me with a therapist to talk about everything—when I was ready—before I could return to work. Ash was the only person in the hospital who knew what happened to me. He didn’t know everything, just that I was attacked and taken to a dangerous man’s apartment that ended in his death. He had been incredible, and even though I was sure it was very difficult for him to have heard my actual kidnapping over the phone. He was the one who called my family and told them what he heard; it’s why they were all together as they awaited Big Phil’s call. When he was told not to call the Gardaí, he listened and trusted Ryder and his brothers. He made sure to visit and call me as often as he usually would when I got home. The normality of it made me feel a little more like myself.
Law wise—Everything had gone perfectly. After I gave my detailed statement in the hospital of what happened with Big Phil—the lying version Kane coached me on—the Gardaí only came to see me a few more times to follow up on a few minor things. To them, it was obvious that what ‘I’ did was out of self-defence so there was no need for any trails of any kind. The suspect who harmed me was dead, and I was okay. Case closed.
Privacy wise—I had none. You would think being attacked, kidnapped and almost killed would be punishment enough, but according to the media, my story was everyone’s business. My attack made front-page news in the papers, and even onto the evening news. It was a choppy story they were presenting because I refused permission for interviews, and the right for anyone to use my name and photo, and since the Gardaí couldn’t find any trace of Big Phil’s existence anywhere, they had no information on him either, just that he kidnapped a girl then was killed in self-defence. It was a mystery to the world, and that was the way we wanted it to remain.