Chapter 5
Ruiz still held forceps. Brass key hung between tips. Tiny bow caught penlight glare. I stared at key. Cheek stung where scratches burned. Breathing stayed shallow. Mara's chair scraped faint against linoleum. She stayed beside exam table, hands folded, not touching me unless I asked.
Ruiz lowered forceps slow toward kidney tray. Metal clink soft. She didn't let go of key yet. She looked at me, not at dad's shape beyond door window.
"You still with me?" she asked.
I nodded. Throat tight. Pink shirt stuck damp against back where dirt had dried stiff at collar.
Ruiz crouched again, eye level. Blue gloves clean, stethoscope resting against scrubs. Gray-green walls swallowed light. Penlight now off, tucked in pocket.
"Need to finish exam," she said. "Need to write down what I see. Need to take pictures, only if you say yes. Pictures help keep record honest. You control stop. Okay?"
I swallowed. Nodded again. Mara leaned forward slight.
"You can say no to any part," Mara added. "Or pause."
Ruiz waited. I gave small yes.
She stood, pulled rolling stool closer. Pulled curtain tighter over door window though silhouette had gone. Clicked wall lamp brighter. Not harsh penlight, softer clinical glow.
"Look up for me," Ruiz said. Gentle fingers, gloved, tipped chin. She examined left cheek. Three parallel lines, thin, pink-rimmed, not deep enough for stitches, not bleeding now. She didn't touch scratches directly.
"Three linear abrasions, left cheek, about inch and half each," she dictated quiet while writing. She measured with paper ruler beside face, not touching skin. "No active bleeding. No swelling around eyes. Okay to open mouth?"
I opened mouth. She checked inside cheek, teeth, gums with penlight from side now, not straight in eyes.
"Good," she said. Wrote more. "Anywhere else hurt? Chest, arms, belly?"
I shook head. She asked consent to lift shirt hem just enough to check ribs and stomach. I held shirt myself, lifted inch. Skin clear, pale, no bruises she could see. She noted dirt stains on pink t-shirt collar and chest — brownish smudges, damp — and faint dust on knees. Documented without comment on cause.
"No other acute injury seen today," she wrote, then read back soft. "That match how you feel?"
I nodded. Eyes filled again.
She pulled small digital camera from drawer. Held it up. "Photos of cheek, and shirt marks. Only face and shirt. No one else sees without legal reason. Yes?"
I hesitated. Looked at Mara, then back at Ruiz. "You won't show him?" I asked.
Ruiz shook head. "Not to him. To medical record. To people whose job protects kids. You deserve record that stays true."
I whispered yes. She took three photos — straight on, angled left, close-up with ruler. Shutter clicks quiet. She asked each time before clicking. I breathed through each flash.
Then she turned to tray. Key still pinched in forceps.
"Tell me about this," she said. Voice even. "Is this yours?"
I stared at brass bow. Circular top, old teeth worn. My fingers twisted hem of shirt.
"Not mine," I said. Voice small. "Found it. Hid it."
Ruiz didn't push where. Waited.
I forced words. "He said I lost it. I didn't. I kept it so he couldn't lock again. Don't give back."
Mara's breath caught, but she stayed still.
Ruiz nodded slow. "You want me to hold it?"
I nodded hard. Tears slipped. "Please hold. Don't give to him."
Ruiz pulled clear plastic bag — patient property bag — and evidence label. She dropped key inside with forceps, then removed forceps, sealed bag. Wrote date, time, my initials with my help, her initials, description: brass skeleton key, circular bow.
"Stays with clinic, locked," she said. "Not returned without safe process. Chain of custody started."
I felt chest loosen fraction. Key no longer in my pocket, no longer burning against thigh where I'd hidden it under seam.
Ruiz capped pen. Looked direct. "Need to tell you what happens next. Important you hear clear. I am mandated reporter. Means law requires I call CPS and sheriff when I see injury like this and story that worries me. Not choice. Not punishment. You not in trouble. Call happens today, from hallway, after exam. Mara stays with you. Nurse stays too."
Words landed heavy. Report meant dad would be confronted. Meant not going home same way.
"Will I go back today?" I asked.
"Not my decision alone," Ruiz said. Honest, calm. "Report team decides placement. Your mom, grandmother — we will ask about safe kin. You get say, but adults must keep you safe first."
Mara reached hand palm up on table, not grabbing. I placed fingertips there, light.
Ruiz sealed chart. Printed photo sheet, attached notes. Locked file in drawer. Bagged key placed in same locked drawer.
May you like
"Chart locked," she said. "Report queued. You did brave thing letting me hold key."
Door window stayed dark. Hallway quiet. I stayed seated on exam table, feet not touching floor, cheek throbbing dull, waiting for call I knew would change next hour.
