Chapter 4 - The Broken Girl
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The observation room was small, smelling strongly of antiseptic and stale air. The lights were dimmed, casting long, somber shadows across the pale green walls.
I found Abigail sitting on the edge of the hospital bed.
She was curled tightly into herself, a thin, scratchy hospital blanket wrapped around her trembling shoulders. When the door opened, she flinched violently, raising a defensive arm over her face as if expecting a blow.
"Abigail?" I breathed, the military composure I had relied on for twenty years instantly fracturing.
She slowly lowered her arm.
I felt all the air leave my lungs in a single, painful rush. My beautiful, vibrant daughter was completely unrecognizable. Her left eye was swollen completely shut, surrounded by a terrifying halo of dark purple and black. Her bottom lip was split, a thin trail of dried blood crusting at the corner of her mouth.
As the blanket slipped slightly, I saw her arms. Dark, brutal bruises resembling the unmistakable shape of human fingerprints wrapped around her pale skin, marking where someone had grabbed her with vicious, unforgiving force. The white designer dress she had been wearing was ripped at the shoulder and stained with dirt and blood.
This was my daughter.
The very same little girl who used to call me every single evening while I was deployed in the Middle East, simply to describe the colors of the sunset so I wouldn't feel so far from home. The same sweet child who drew crayon pictures of American flags and taped them to my refrigerator whenever I returned from a tour.
Now, she could barely raise her head to look at me.
"Mom..." she whispered, her voice breaking on the single syllable.
I crossed the room in two massive strides and pulled her against my chest. I wrapped my arms around her, burying my face in her tangled hair. She collapsed into me, her entire body shaking with violent, uncontrollable sobs. She felt so small, so fragile, like a terrified little girl hiding from a monster in the dark.
"I've got you," I murmured fiercely, kissing the top of her head. "I'm right here, sweetie. Mom is here. No one is going to touch you ever again."
She gripped the lapels of my military jacket, her knuckles white. "They wouldn't let me leave, Mom. They locked me in."
Before I could ask her who had done this, a sound came from the hallway that made the blood in my veins turn to absolute ice.
It was a laugh. A cruel, dismissive, arrogant laugh.
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"Honestly, she’s always been so dramatic," a male voice echoed from the open doorway.
I slowly turned around, keeping Abigail tucked safely behind me. The monsters had arrived.
