Chapter Twenty-Two
Marissa
"I can't wait till you wake up and I can take you home. I got a new job," I tell her while brushing her hair. It's been five days since she was found, five days that she has been in the coma. It was my job as her mother to protect her, and I didn't do that. I did the opposite of that. But I would make it up to her.
I held her while we both slept that first night. When her body would start shaking, I would talk to her till she calmed down. Tell her stories about when she was little. I would just talk so she knew I was here with her.
The day after was the worst, when the lights came on coupled with the sunlight coming into the room, and I could see her skin that was yellow almost like it was jaundiced. Her nails were broken and cracked with dirt under them.
Her arms were barely more than skin and bone. Purple bruises ran along her wrists along with scabs and scars. The hardest thing to see were the puncture wounds. The inside of her right arm was a huge scab. A nurse had told us that her vein must have collapsed, but they still kept injecting into it. Her hair was limp, oily, dirty.
The nurse came back that night to give her a sponge bath. Of course I didn't let her. I bathed her myself. It was almost like I was trying to purge her system. Mick said he would wait outside while I bathed her, but if I needed him to just call for him.
I filled the basin with warm water and started at her feet. I know I should start at her hair, but her soles were black, yellow, and brown. The water had to be refilled after just one foot. Making my way up her legs, my breaking point was the dried blood on her inner thighs. The sight made me run to the bathroom and throw up the breakfast that Mick forced me to eat that morning.
Rinsing my mouth out with water, I looked at myself. "Be strong, be strong." I chanted to myself.
The nurse that had been supervising me stood up from the chair. "If you want, Mrs. Sullivan, I can finish it."
I shook my head. Grabbing the basin, I went back into the washroom and filled it with warmer water. Going back to the bed, I put my hand into the water, wringing the towel and then started washing her legs again. I picked up one leg and quickly washed away all the dry blood. I let warm water soak on her inner thighs before washing it off. The tears mixed with the water and blood. The left over blood and dried semen on her vagina was the breaking point. The sob ripped through me. Mick knocked at the door, opening it and looking down at the floor.
"Marissa."
I looked down and covered her up so no one could see her anymore. "I'm okay, Mick," I said through my hand. Hearing the door shut, I picked up the rag and continued cleaning her. I had to rinse the water ten times before I was able to wash her hair. It took about two hours to wash her from the bottom of her feet to the top of her head.
After I finished washing her hair, I combed through it and braided it like I did when she was younger.
When I finally finished, she looked clean again. I walked out into the hall, and Mick was there talking to Jackson and the other guy, Chris. As soon as Mick saw me, he came right to me, pulling me into his arms.
In his arms, I felt safe, I got strength, I knew I could survive anything. I wrapped my arms around his waist, breathing in his scent.
"Marissa," I heard Jackson behind me. "Bella and I want you to know that if you need anything, you just call us."
I wrapped my arm around Mick's waist. I hated this, people acting like she was dying. "How is Brenda doing?" I asked, wondering if she was going to be okay. It seemed she got shot when Bella was taken. If it wasn't for Bella, they wouldn't have found Lori.
"She's going to be fine," he said, and I looked at Chris, who looked like he hadn't slept in a while. I made a note to ask Mick about him when we were alone.
Now here I am, five days later, about to lose my mind. I just want her to open her eyes. They keep telling me not to worry, that this is her body's way of dealing with the trauma it's been through. It's so hard, though. I just want her to wake her up.
The other two girls who were also taken are having a bit more trouble. I heard them detoxing-the crying, the screaming, the vomiting, the howling-while I sat by my girl's side, praying to take the pain away from her.
I pick up the magazine that Bella and Lilah brought me. The minute I met her I knew I'd made a friend. No words were needed. We just hugged and cried mother-to-mother, victim-to-victim. I'm flipping through the pages of the magazine while Mick sits by the window, playing on his phone, when we hear a low groan. We both look up at each other then look at Lori, who is moving her head from side to side. I'm so stunned I can't move, while Mick is already out of his chair and headed for the door, calling for Dorothy, the nurse on duty.
I get up and rush to her side, stroking her head and talking to her. "Lori, baby, open your eyes, honey." I grab her hand and kiss it. "I'm here, honey. Momma is here, just open your eyes." And slowly, ever so fucking slowly, her eyes start to flutter before they start to open. Once, twice, three times before they open in a squint. Dorothy brushes past Mick, who moves to the end of the bed so she can do her thing.
"Lori," Dorothy says while wrapping the blood pressure cuff around her bicep. "My name is Dorothy. I am your nurse. Can you hear me?" she asks right before the doctor strolls in, looking over her chart.
"Hey there. Lori finally opened her eyes, I see." He puts the chart down on the bed, moving to Lori's side and shining the flashlight into her eyes. Lori doesn't like it apparently because she weakly tries to slap his hand away.
"Mom," she croaks out. "Mom." Her voice is scratchy. "Water," she says, and I rush to grab some of my water that I had sitting by her bed.
"I'm here, baby. Momma is here," I say through tears and laughter that she is awake. I tilt the straw to her mouth, and she takes a big gulp and promptly starts to cough.
"Easy there, Lori, you haven't had anything in your stomach in a while, so you don't want to take in too much all at once, okay? Small sips, sweetie," Dorothy says.
"Lori, do you know where you are?" the doctor asks while he writes something in the chart.
Lori looks at me with tears running down her face. "Momma." She opens her hand out to me. I take it, holding it to my chest as I stroke her cheek and her head while she sobs. "I didn't want to do it." She wails out, her body starting to shake. "I said no. I said I wanted to go home." She closes her eyes and sobs harder.
I cup her chin so that she is looking at me. "I know, baby, I know you wanted to come home. I know."
She looks at me and then her eyes move to Mick, who is standing to the side, his fists tightly clenched. The veins in his arms are bulging, the one in his forehead is ticking, and the anger and rage in his eyes is impossible to miss.
"You saved me," she says to Mick. "You said you'd bring me home."
Tears glisten in his eyes, but he quickly blinks them away, his voice rough when he replies, "Yeah, baby girl, I did. Promised your mom I would do it."
She nods her head, her eyes staying on Mick.
"He found you, honey, like he said he would." I lean down and place a kiss on her head.
"Oh, God, Mom, I didn't want to be there! I didn't want to do any of those horrible things! I didn't want the drugs! Oh my God, the drugs." She looks at me frantically. "No drugs, no more. NO MORE DRUGS!" she screams as she tries to rip out the IV from her arm.
The nurse springs into action and injects something into the IV. "It's the withdrawals," Dorothy assures me.
"Baby, they are going to make it all better," I tell her while she shakes her head.
"No, no, no, no," she says as she fights to keep her eyes open. "No more," she slurs, and it's the last thing she says before she falls back to sleep.
Mick makes it to my side just as I throw my hand over my mouth to let my own sob out, but nothing comes out of me, no sound, no tears, nothing. My eyes fixate on my daughter, who is now sleeping peacefully. I'm shaken by what she said, by her outburst and thinking about what she's been through.
"She is going to be fine," the doctor tells me, shutting her chart and giving it to Dorothy. "It's normal to have outbursts like that in the first week, but because she was unconscious for so long, it won't be as bad. She should be awake again sometime this evening. She is a fighter, Mrs. Sullivan, she's a fighter. Things I've seen, the condition she was in when she arrived in here, she wouldn't have made it another day had she not been found. It's a good day," he tells me with a nod before leaving the room with Dorothy right behind him.
"She's a fucking fighter, babe. You know that, but now she doesn't have to fight by herself. She has us. We fucking fight with her. Sleep," he tells me, holding me close. "It's going to be a long road. You need your rest."
I know he's right, so I just nod and watch her, my eyes never leaving her rising chest. I finally close my eyes but not for too long, because, the next thing I know, she's up again.