I brought my hands to my face. “Go ahead.”
“Maisie was repeatedly raped both vaginally and anally. She suffered several lacerations, which resulted in bleeding, and there were minor tears in her posterior fourchette. Based on her bruising, it appears she was struck several times and suffered abrasions over the majority of her body.”
I knew Doc was doing everything in his power to be straightforward and informative, but it was all I could do not to race from the room and puke.
“We were able to collect semen samples. At the minimum, it will serve as evidence. It’s hard to say how much Maisie will recollect. We’ll know more once we get the results of the tox screen.”
“Wherever the motherfucker is, make sure I can’t find him.”
“Understood.”
“Is there more you’re not saying?”
“Again, until the tox results come in, there isn’t much more I can say.”
“She’s withdrawn.” When Doc didn’t respond, I looked at him. “From me.”
Doc leaned forward. “It’s to be expected.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
“There’s literature available for partners of survivors of sexual assault. There are also on-staff psychologists available to help you through some of this.”
I knew Doc’s first wife, not Merrigan, had been a sexual assault survivor. It had happened over twenty years ago. “How did you handle it?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Not as well as I should have.”
I’d much rather have this conversation with him—a man who was like an older brother to me, a mentor—than a stranger whose approach would be clinical. “What can you share with me?”
“Much of this is in the literature the hospital provides, but I’ll go over it with you if it would help.”
“It would.”
“First and foremost, don’t pressure Maisie to talk. Let her set the pace.”
“Makes sense.”
“Next, don’t blame yourself. For you, this may be the most difficult part. ‘If you hadn’t left Maisie alone to attend our meeting, none of this would have happened.’”
I didn’t respond, but it was the absolute truth.
“Know that Maisie is going to blame herself too, but that isn’t something you can address with her until she talks to you about it. Just because you know that’s what she’s doing doesn’t give you an open door to try to get her to talk about it.”
“That’s gonna be hard.”
“Damn right, it is. All of it will be, Ranger. This is why you have to make sure you have a support system. Not just a support system for Maisie—one for you too.”
“I don’t want her to pull farther away from me.”
“Of course you don’t. You want to be right by her side, believing you’re helping her. Try to remember you might not be.”
I stood and paced the room.
“Talk to the psychologist, Ranger. Today. Don’t wait. Don’t tell yourself you have to take care of Maisie first. Until you get the support you need, you may not be able to help her at all. Remember, she needs to be in control of her own life.”
That, I understood. Maxim Edwards took away her power along with her control. She was one of the smartest, most capable women I knew. I prayed she remembered that, found her way back to that, without pressure from me.
“I said that you not blaming yourself might be the most difficult part for you. I spoke too soon. Intimacy may be the hardest part to work your way through. Maisie may feel very differently about sex, and it may take a long time for her to feel as though she can interact with you sexually.”
I thought about every conversation she and I had had about how jealous I got when I thought about her being with other men. I wished I could take it all back. Every word. Who knew what kind of irreparable damage I may have inadvertently done by being an immature asshole.
“But also remember, what Edwards did to her wasn’t a sexual act. It was one of violence.”
“I understand.”
“Finally, all you can really do is be patient and open to communication. Create a safe place for her to talk or not talk, deal or not deal, even pretend it never happened. Whatever she needs to do to get through this, make it all okay. I can’t tell you how much I wish I’d done that for my ex-wife.”
“Thanks, Doc.”
“I’m available any time, day or night, whatever you need, Ranger. I’m your safe place. I hope you know that.”
“I do.”
“Help me help you by talking to this psychologist.”
“I will.”
“Today.”
“Roger that.”
When I returned to the emergency room bay, Al and Mary were with Maisie, so I walked over to the desk and requested the contact information for the psychologist.
“Would you like me to schedule an appointment for you?” the nurse behind the counter asked.
“Sure. I mean, I guess so.”
She typed something on the computer, then stared at the screen. “She has an opening at two, three, and four.”
“Today?”
The woman looked up at me. “Yes. Today. It’s always best if Ms. Fasano is able to meet with family members as soon after the assault as possible.”
“What about the victim?”
“I believe she’s already spoken with your wife, sir.”
“When?”
“I don’t know, but did you want me to set something up for this afternoon?”
“Two.” The sooner, the better. Maybe then I could get some answers about why this woman had taken it upon herself to meet with Maisie without my knowing about it.
The nurse handed me a card. “With patients, she will typically come to the room. With family members, it’s best to meet in her office. It’s on the third floor.”
“Do you know if my wife will be going home this afternoon or if the plan is to admit her?”
“I can’t answer that, but I’ll find someone who can.”
23
MAISIE
My head throbbed. It was the only way I knew I was actually inside my body. I hurt. Otherwise, I felt like a spectator, looking at myself from somewhere else. Not here. Not even in this room. Just watching from afar. Wondering how the fuck I got here.
I wasn’t conscious when I was rescued from my worst nightmare. Was the piece of shit who put me there dead? God, I hoped so. Or did I hope he was alive, living his own version of the torment he’d forced on me? No, I wanted him dead. Then he’d be in the bowels of hell, being endlessly tortured, suffering horrific pain for all eternity. That’s what I hoped the most.
My grandmother’s hands shook when she tried to get me to drink some water. I could barely get my lips around the straw because it was moving around so much. “I’m sorry,” I heard her whisper.
No! I wanted to scream. Don’t you dare be sorry! Don’t be sorry about your shaking hands. Don’t be sorry I was kidnapped. Don’t be sorry the man I once thought I worshiped had violated my body in unimaginable ways. Don’t be sorry for any of it. And don’t fucking feel sorry for me. I wanted no pity. Especially from her. Especially from Ranger.