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The scratching in my throat worsened as I tried to shift my head to the side. Keeping my eyes shut, knowing if I opened them my reality would catch up with me. Without anyone saying, I knew instinctively where I was, what had happened. I remembered every detail in slow motion and the sour feeling left behind caught up on a hitch of breath as I had visions of Jake and the way he hadn’t moved the whole time I’d been held and made to watch the sorry scenario play out in front of me.

Jake would never brighten my day again, he’d never wrap his big arms around me another time.

My neck ached, and my brain thudded against my skull so hard it made the nausea worse. The sound of fabric swishing around me and quiet hushed voices brought me back to where I was. Something tugged at my mouth, the scratching intensifying and causing me to gag and wretch.

Still I kept my eyes closed, squeezed tight as if in denial of my surroundings, fighting against whoever was dragging me back to the present. Tears fell freely down my face when I thought about Sophie and the helpless look on her as she had lain looking at me. Panic edged around me, and it took all my strength to tamp it down. The hand at my head, stroking my hair from my face, aided in calming me down. My father’s hand. He’d made the same motion a million times or more. The comfort of my dad’s gentle fingers and his soft ‘sshh’s’ helped to relax the tenseness in my body.

Don’t stop...

“Sophie...” I sputtered out in a croaky whisper, but my dad was so close to me he heard without straining. His other hand clasped mine at the side of the bed and he squeezed. A gentle reassurance.

“She’s safe. You’re both safe.” I heard the crack in his voice and while it was great to hear a familiar voice, I wanted to open my eyes, so I could see him. I needed to see him, see Sophie, Shaun...fuck, where was Shaun?

“He’ll be here soon. When you’re ready. He’s with Sophie for now.” Yes, the man could read my mind. Or maybe I’d uttered his name?

Exhaling loudly, my back screamed in pain as I did, the discomfort was excruciating. A coughing from beside me made me jump, not recognising who the sound belonged to.

“You need to open up your eyes, son,” my father coaxed gently, his fingers constantly swiping through my hair.

Squinting at first, inclining my head to where I thought my dad was, I attempted to open my eyes. The light of the room was harsh, and it hurt at first, but I adjusted quickly. It wasn’t too bad, someone had thankfully had the foresight to close the curtains, but I still cursed at how much it hurt. My whole body was in agony and for the second time in a matter of minutes the nausea almost overwhelmed me.

My father’s smiling face was the first thing I saw. He was hunched over the bed, gazing at me with a face full of concern. “Hi, baby boy.” If I could have rolled my eyes I would have. He leaned over and kissed the top of my head, another habit of his.

“Dad,” I croaked out, my throat not ready for more, my tongue like a ball of dry cotton wool in my mouth.

“Water?” he asked before turning to the man beside him. “He can have a sip of water, right?”

I presumed it was the doctor, his white coat and stethoscope wrapped around his neck a dead give-away. He answered with a cheery, “yes, of course.”

Casting my eyes around now I could see better, I noticed it was just us - no one else in the private room. The solitude helped, the thought of facing anyone, a hurdle I wasn’t ready to jump.

“You’re in the ICU recovery, Ayden. We’ll give you a little while, monitor your vitals and such then take you through to the ward, okay?” The doctor smiled at me and while I didn’t recognise the voice, I immediately recognised the face. He was a friend of my father’s and an immense comfort when my dad had been recovering from an assault himself, after disturbing a robbery at our house not long after we’d moved in. His manner was easy and caring, and I knew I was in good hands with him, probably the best.

Holding a cup in front of me, the straw almost poking me in the nose, my dad ordered me to drink. I took little sips, the cold water soothing my bruised throat more than anything else. The ever-present churn in my stomach had me worried the fluid, no matter how little, wouldn’t stay down. The doctor slipped from the room while my dad fussed over the cup and made me sip slower.

“How you feeling?” Removing the straw from my mouth, he placed the cup on the roll away table across the middle of the bed.

I groaned as I tried to shift to a more comfortable position, mindful of the multitude of tubes stuck in the back of my hand. I realised I had a catheter in as well when I rolled awkwardly, and the urinary tube pinched when I moved. “Like shit,” I wheezed out.

“Yeah...” he trailed off and looked around the room as if uncomfortable about something. I knew about Jake, maybe that was his worry - that I didn’t. I reached tentatively for his hand, which he grasped harder than before.

“Damage?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Jargon, or as is?” I shrugged as best I could, it hurt too much to continue talking so I didn’t, hoping he’d take my cue. “Okay...” dragging his fingers through his hair, I watched him search for the right place to start. “Skull fracture, brain bleed, stab wound to the lower back,” he blew out a long breath, “bruised and battered.” A tear tripped its way down his cheek as he rushed his words, as if saying them quicker would make it less real.

I tried to smile at him, but it was a weak attempt. “The bleed?”

“They had to drain it, said it was safer because of the fracture. Put you in an induced coma for a few days to see which way things would swing, give your body some time out.” His smile was tight, more of a grimace.

“Sophie?”

He nodded at me and let go of my hand, reaching for the chair behind him so he could sit next to the bed. Resting his elbows on the pale yellow cellular blanket, he dropped his hands to the coverlet. “She’s okay, Ayden, but...” I didn’t think he knew how to say what he wanted to, I’d seen her, knew what happened. They made me fucking watch.

I stared at my dad, not caring that I was full on sobbing, not ashamed, he’d seen it all before. “They made me watch...” I whispered.

The chair scraped backwards, and my dad had his arms wrapped around me as gently as he possibly could a second later. “Oh, Ayden.” His own emotion poured from him as he hugged me close. “She’s okay, as okay as she can be, but Jake...” his choke was harsh, and his fingers dug into my shoulders. “The baby’s okay, the baby’s okay.”

We both stayed where we were, my tears soaking into the comforting fabric of his t-shirt, his spilling down my bare back. It took him a long while to let go and when he did, he was far more composed than when he had stood up.

“The police want a statement.” Chewing on his lip, he slanted his head at me. “But listen, it’s up to you what you say to them. We can do it their way,” he paused, “or our way. I won’t judge, not for one single second. None of us will. Your choice.” He looked at the floor as if he wanted to hide how he felt or what he thought I should do. There was time to discuss it later, he wouldn’t let anyone near me until I was ready, until I’d spoken to Sophie.

“You need any pain meds?”

I nodded because every inch of me screamed and numbing the pain sounded like a great fucking idea, the best idea. He handed me a little paper cup that had been set down on the table and shook out two pills onto his hand. With his help I swallowed them down then relaxed back onto the bed and shut my eyes, waiting for the inevitable.

Letting out a shaky breath, I whispered, “I know who it was.”