No Way Back (Mia's Way, #1) Read online

  “Ouch!” I hiss and move away.

  “I know it hurts, but I’m almost done,” the doctor says.

  I’m really not liking her. Where Robin-zoo-animals is sweet, the doctor seems like she’s as interested in me as she is the curtains. Kiesha looks upset. Her jaw is clenched, and she’s holding my hand as tightly as I am hers. I look past her. The door is only partially open, but I can see Dom. The man with my grandfather’s wheezy voice and brown eyes is guarding me.

  I was always my grandfather’s favorite. We used to eat ice cream and make fun of the rest of our family, of my half-sister Molly’s prissy behavior and Daddy’s long, boring speeches. Mom told me quietly one day when I was ten that my grandpa was senile. I always thought he was the only person who made sense.

  “Please be still,” the doctor tells me.

  I obey and hold still, even when her cold fingers press too hard on my back. She touches my arm to signal it’s time to lie on my back. I do so with a grimace. She pokes around at my chest, neck, and head, all while the other two take notes.

  I feel like a science project.

  God, I want to die!

  “You’ve got a mild concussion,” the doctor says at last. “The cut in your head is shallow.”

  Seriously? Is that all that’s wrong? I want to laugh and cry. I make a strange sound somewhere in between, and the doctor really looks at me for the first time.

  “I can’t imagine what you’ve gone through,” she says, her voice warming like a normal human’s at last. “You’re going to need stitches, and I want to make sure there’s no more head trauma. We’ll keep you for a day or two for observation. Are your parents on their way?”

  I look at Kiesha.

  “We’ll call them,” Kiesha says.

  “I’ll need to talk to them about the morning after pill. State law requires minors have parental permission before we can administer.”

  I gasp. “But I haven’t … I … are you serious?”

  “She’s not saying you are pregnant, just that it’s a precaution they normally take,” Robin says quickly.

  It hits me that I’d lost my virginity tonight. This isn’t how I thought it’d happen. It isn’t right that someone can take it from me! And it’s not possible to get pregnant from rape; Daddy says a woman’s body has the ability to prevent it. He talks about abortion a lot in his speeches, and he’s always arguing with other politicians about it. I pay no attention, because I don’t care, like most the stuff he talks about. I do know he pays people a lot of money to research the stuff he says in his speeches.

  If Daddy knows, shouldn’t a doctor know it’s not possible? What the hell is going on?

  I stare at the doctor. The human side of her fades again, and she finishes examining me like a piece of furniture at a crime scene on TV. When she’s done, she leaves. The cop who took pictures approaches me next.

  “I need to get a few more pieces of evidence. May I see your hands?”

  Evidence. Like I really am a piece of furniture. I hold out my hand. She swabs my mouth, scrapes under all the nails and places the dirt in a small baggy that goes in a black bag. When she’s done, she leaves me, too.

  “Okay, that’s over with,” Robin says. “We’ve gotta get you fixed up. I need to draw some blood.”

  Kiesha’s radio squawks, and ducks into the hallway. I watch her and Dom, panicking at the idea that they are going to leave me there. I don’t like this place. I don’t like the doctor. I don’t want to stay here.

  “They’ll be back tomorrow to interview you,” Robin says.

  I look at her, and she’s looking out the door, too. Robin-zoo-animals isn’t much bigger than me. She can’t keep them away. I was alone when they hurt me. I wasn’t ever going to be alone again.

  “I don’t want them to leave,” I tell her.

  “Your parents should be here soon. You’re safe here.”

  “No, they won’t! Mama’s in rehab and Daddy’s at a fundraiser! Neither of them would come here for me!” I don’t mean to shout the words, but I can’t help it.

  Robin looks surprised. “I’m sure one of them will come.” Her attention goes to my arm, and I look away as she draws blood.

  “You don’t know my family!”

  “Everything okay?” Dom’s wheezy voice draws my attention. He’s not looking in the room, as if afraid of seeing the bloody mess that’s me.

  “Yes,” Robin says. “I think Mia would like one of you to stay tonight.”

  “Sure.”

  I want to cry again. This time I don’t know why.

  “Is that cool, Mia?” Robin’s voice is always warm.

  I nod. I feel bad for yelling at her. She’s been nice to me.

  “I’m going to deliver these to the lab,” she says and holds up the tray of vials she’s taken of my blood. “Dom will be right there. When I get back, I’ll take you down the hall, so we can clean you up and get you some stitches. Okay?”

  I nod again. She leaves.

  The room feels cold and lonely. I rest my head on the pillow and stare hard out the door. No one can get me as long as the policeman that reminds me of Grandpa Abbottt is here.

  Chapter Three

  I’m right about my parents not coming. It’s almost noon by the time the doctors finish cleaning, stitching and x-raying me. I’m tired but am pleased to see Dom is still sitting outside my room when they roll me back. I barely have a moment to myself before he knocks, and he and Kiesha walk in.

  “Are you feeling up to telling us what happened?” Kiesha asks. She’s got a cup of coffee in one hand and a notepad in the other.

  I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to think about it. My private parts still burn from stitches. Something about how it’s going to hurt to take a shit for awhile, until the tears in my vagina heal. Along with painkillers and antibiotics, they’re giving me stool softeners, like old people use.

  I want Dom and Kiesha to kill those who did this to me.

  “Can I have a minute to clean up first?” I ask.

  “Sure.”

  They leave and close the door. I grimace as I lift myself out of bed. The hospital floor is cold against my bare feet. I limp to the bathroom. My ankle doesn’t hurt anymore, but it doesn’t move right either.

  I turn on the light to the tiny bathroom. I see nothing but a Halloween monster in the mirror above the sink.

  I’m the monster. My blonde hair is sticking out everywhere like it does without smoothing crème. Part of it is brown-red from blood. My cheek is yellow, my black eye swollen closed and black. My good eye is smeared with mascara and the colors I wore last night, which somehow ended up all over the left side of my face. I have bruises all over my face and neck. My good eye looks haunted, and I’m pale.

  They did this to me. They made me a monster. The bruises will heal, but I’ll never be able to forget what happened.

  The surreal experience returns, flashing like a disjointed dream in my mind. I close my eyes and can almost feel the cool spray from the fountain. I can hear them coming for me. I can feel them hurting me. My chest seizes, and suddenly, I can’t breathe.

  Not again!

  I’m being dragged down to the ground and lash out, trying to keep from sinking into the memory.

  “Shit!”

  “Grab her, Dom!”

  “Mia, it’s okay!”

  Someone catches me, keeps me from going back to last night. My tunnel vision makes it hard for me to see who. Smelling salts jar me awake. I recognize the cop, Kiesha, and stare up at the harsh lights, not sure at first where I am.

  “You okay?” Dom’s face appears in my vision. His warm arms are around me.

  Kiesha raised the smelling salts. I push her hand away.

  “Why … why do you have those?” I demand, hating them in that moment.

  “Keeps me awake on third shift.” Kiesha gives me a genuine smile, the first I’ve seen. “You scared us again.”

  “Sorry,” I mumble. I try to move. Dom
has me clutched against him. I don’t entirely want him to let go; it’s the safest I’ve felt since last night.

  “C’mon, Dom. We’ll keep this short, Mia.”

  I nod. Kiesha rises, and Dom lifts me easily and carries me back to the hospital bed. He sets me down then pulls up a chair beside the bed. Kiesha sits next to him. My eyes fall to the blood on Dom’s uniform. My blood. I clench my hands, nervous.

  “Why don’t you tell us what happened first, and we’ll go from there,” Kiesha says.

  I hesitate and look at her. I don’t want to tell anyone. I want to forget. And I want those who hurt me to pay. But I’m terrified.

  “Take your time.”

  Kiesha and Dom have stayed with me since they found me. Not even Daddy came to see me. My eyes water, and I feel both indebted to the two beside me and ashamed they had to stay because Daddy wouldn’t come.

  “I, um, went to Sven’s party. Ari was supposed to go with me, but her dad made her go to the fundraiser. I refused to go. So I got to Sven’s but the party was totally lame. I didn’t know anyone except …” I can’t say his name. I see his face again in my head. I swallow hard.

  “Except …” Kiesha prompted.

  “Robert,” I whisper.

  “Do you know his last name?” Dom asks.

  I say it in my head then carefully say it out loud. “Connor.”

  “Robert Connor,” Kiesha says, writing down the name. “And you know him?”

  I nod.

  “Excuse me, officers.”

  My heart soars as I recognize the voice then plummets when I realize it’s not Daddy. We all look towards the door. A familiar man in gray slacks and a polo steps into my room. As soon as I see him and the smaller woman behind him, I feel like crying again.

  Daddy sent his lead publicist and the head of his legal team. He’s not coming. Worse, my uncle – Daddy’s chief lawyer – only shows up when something is really wrong. He’s never looked my way twice before, because I never broke the law, just made little dust-ups for the publicity team to fix.

  “Ms. Abbottt-Renou is a minor and will not be questioned without her parent or an appointed guardian.” The speaker is Chris Abbott-Renou, my uncle and the world’s most brilliant attorney, according to pretty much everyone.

  “She’s not being questioned,” Kiesha says archly. “We can talk to victims who are underage.”

  “Not this one.”

  “Who are you?” Dom asks, standing.

  “Her lawyer and uncle. I’m Chris Abbott-Renou, family attorney.” Daddy’s lawyer shakes Dom’s hand.

  “Mr. Abbottt, we need a statement from Ms. Abbottt about what happened last night,” Kiesha says.

  “We will provide you a written statement when Ms. Abbottt-Renou has had a chance to rest,” Chris says. “Until then …” He doesn’t have to tell them they’re not welcome. I recognize the tone from the few times I interrupted meetings between him and Daddy.

  Kiesha and Dom hesitate but move towards the door. My chest tightens again. I don’t want them to go. In the little time I’ve known them, I already like them more than any of Daddy’s lackeys. I watch them leave me, wanting desperately to tell them to come back.

  I don’t say anything. I pull my knees to my chest and hug them.

  “Shea, if you could get their names,” Chris tells the publicist.

  Shea follows the two cops down the hall, and Chris sits beside me. I feel him looking at me. Neither of us speaks for a long moment. Chris looks different, pale. Almost like he cares, even though he’s never given me the time of day.

  “Robert Connor,” he says at last. His blue eyes sharpen.

  I close my eyes and turn my face away. So I’m the one on trial.

  “Are you sure?” he asks.

  “I know what happened to me,” I say, face hot.

  “According to the lab results your doctor showed me, your alcohol level was two times the legal limit and you had … drugs in your system.”

  “So?”

  “So, Mia, based on what I know, you probably have missing time, hallucinations, and an otherwise flawed recollection of what happened.”

  “You’re saying this didn’t happen to me?” I look at him, stunned.

  “Not at all,” he said with tried patience. “I’m saying, think carefully about what happened. Robert Connor is the son of one of your father’s greatest allies, one of the most powerful politicians in the country. Can you face him in court and say without a doubt it was him?”

  “What do you mean? That’s what you do. You go to court. You handle it.”

  “Mia,” Chris chides. “If your case goes to court, you go, too. You have to face your accuser. It’s the law.”

  “I don’t want to see him again!” I say, panicking.

  “That’s not the way this works. That’s why I’m saying, be certain. You’ll have to testify in front of him, your father, the jury.”

  “I … Chris … I want this to go away. I can’t …” I don’t want to, but I’m crying. I don’t understand what he’s saying. Why do I have to see the people who did this to me again?

  “Mia, if you aren’t certain, the political fallout would destroy the Abbottt-Renou and Connor families,” Shea added, closing the door behind her as she stepped into the room. “It could damage the entire party to the point where it’s irreparable.”

  I see Chris give her a sharp look. I’m crying hard, because I don’t know what to do. I know it was Robert. I saw him … but I can’t remember everything. I know he was there. I heard him talking to … to … I can’t remember the other guy’s name. I can’t even remember their faces.

  “Say the word, and I’ll bring in my team to take this kid down,” Chris says. “We’ll go with you to court.”

  “Along with every paparazzi in the country. It’ll be on all the news channels and on the front page of every newspaper,” Shea adds. “It’ll destroy your daddy.”

  “That’s a little harsh, Shea,” Chris says.

  I don’t want that. I don’t want to see my monster face in the newspapers or to hurt the family name, which Daddy cares about more than he does me. I can’t bear the thought of seeing Robert again, of telling the world what he did to me. At least, what I think he did to me. I remember talking to Robert and the next thing I see in my foggy thoughts, I’m standing in front of the fountain, surrounded by fireflies.

  What if Chris is right? What if I go to court and still can’t remember everything?

  “I … I don’t know!” I sob.

  “Mia, if you can’t tell me right here who did this, you’ll have a harder time in court,” Chris says.

  “What you’ve been through is horrible, but you have to be careful about this,” Shea says.

  This isn’t some political game! This is my life! I’m crying too hard to say the words out loud. I can’t stand listening to them. I push myself out of my bed and hobble to the bathroom. I lock the door, sit on the floor and cry. My hurt eye aches so bad when I cry. I swallow down a few deep breaths and rest my head against the wall.

  God, I’m so tired! It’s cold in the bathroom, but I don’t want to leave. I feel as scared and alone right now as I was last night, when no one was there to help me. Daddy sent his goons to make sure I don’t ruin his reputation more than I already have.

  “Mia?” The voice is muffled. “Mia, it’s Robin. I brought you some lunch.”

  I haven’t eaten since dinner last night. I’m not hungry, but I’m thirsty. My mouth is dry and icky. Hopefully, Daddy’s lackeys are gone.

  “Mia?”

  “I’m coming.” I stand up and look in the mirror again. I hate what I see.

  I open the door. Even more tired, I want to scream when I see Chris and Shea standing in the room, talking to the un-human doctor who saw me when I came in. Robin isn’t wearing her zoo animals scrubs but flower scrubs today. She’s staring at the three until I take my first step out of the bathroom.

  She crosses to me and takes my arm, walking wit
h me across the room. I’m grateful for the assistance. The food on the tray next to the bed looks unappealing. I’m trying to ignore the three talking, but I catch Shea’s soft voice.

  “… pregnant.”

  I look up, unable to help the tremor of fear that goes through me.

  “Are you talking about me?” I demand. “I’m right fucking here, Shea.”

  The three look at me.

  “Your … father doesn’t want you to have the morning after pill,” the doctor says.

  “You need consent for a minor,” Chris says.

  “I don’t need it,” I say, confused.

  “That’s right,” Shea agrees.

  “Ms. Abbottt’s mother gave her consent,” the doctor says.

  “Her father disagrees,” Chris says firmly. “It is both the personal and professional opinion of my client that the morning after pill equates to murder. Any attempt to give Ms. Abbottt-Renou the pill will earn your hospital a lawsuit. We’ll shut you down, Doctor.”

  “But I don’t need it,” I say more loudly. “Daddy says a woman who’s been … who’s gone through this can’t get pregnant.”

  The doctor stares at me. I glance at Robin, who looks just as surprised. Chris hesitates, but Shea looks confident.

  “That’s what my client believes,” Chris says after a minute. “End of discussion.”

  I feel like I’m missing something. It’s rare when Chris and Shea agree with me. The doctor looks at Chris for a long moment then walks out. She’s weird anyway, but the look on Robin’s face bugs me.

  “Is Daddy coming?” I ask.

  “Possibly,” Chris says.

  “We’ve hired a therapist, our distant cousin, Dr. Thompkins. You’ll start sessions with him tomorrow, as well as go to the family’s personal physician,” Shea adds. “We can’t let you stay for the two days of observation. The doctor agreed to clear you to leave in twelve hours instead.”

  I roll my eyes. Daddy only trusts the family with our most personal business. Shea is another cousin, and most of the people working for us are somehow related. Of all my uncles, Chris is the only one who isn’t a politician and doesn’t have kids.