Chapter 2
The curtain didn't close. It pulled back.
I was still curled on the bed with my knees pulled up to my chest, my hands locked over my stomach. The pillow behind my head was cold and wet where the water had soaked in. I could feel it seeping into my hair. My dad's hands were still on my mom's arms. His knuckles were white where he gripped her green sleeves and I could see her boots sliding a little as she tried to lean back from him.
Then the air changed. I heard shoes moving fast on the linoleum outside the bay.
A woman in navy scrubs came around the curtain first. She was older, her hair pulled back, a badge clipped to her pocket that said charge nurse. Right behind her was a security guard in a gray uniform, his radio crackling at his shoulder.
"Sir, you need to let go of her right now," the nurse said. Her voice wasn't loud but it cut straight through everything. "Sir, let go."
My dad didn't at first. His jaw was tight and he was still staring at my mom like she was the problem.
The guard stepped in closer. "Sir, release her and step back. Now."
That was what made him do it. The guard put a hand on my dad's forearm, not grabbing, just firm, and said it again. "Step back for me."
My dad let go. My mom sucked in a breath and her hands went immediately to where he'd held her, rubbing her upper arms. She didn't make a sound. She just looked at me.
The guard didn't take his eyes off my dad. He guided him two steps back toward the curtain edge, his hand hovering near my dad's elbow. "Stay right here at the curtain, sir. Don't approach the bed."
My dad's chest was moving hard. He glanced toward the hallway where two more people in white coats were watching, then back at us. He didn't say anything now. He just stood there with his hands at his sides, making fists and then opening them.
The nurse moved to the bed between me and them. She put herself there on purpose, her back partly to my dad. I could smell hand sanitizer and coffee on her. She looked down at me and her face changed when she saw how I was holding myself.
"Hey, honey, I'm Karen, I'm the charge nurse," she said, quieter. She pulled the bed rail up a little with one hand. "Can you tell me where it hurts?"
I tried to answer but my throat was tight from crying. I nodded and pressed harder on my lower right side. "Here," I whispered. "It's tearing me apart."
She nodded like she believed me right away. She put the back of her hand lightly on my forehead, quick and professional, then looked at the pillow.
I saw her notice the wet spot. The clear cup was on its side on the tray table, empty.
She leaned in a little so my dad couldn't hear. "Did someone throw water on you, sweetheart?"
My heart was pounding so loud I thought she could hear it. I looked past her at my mom, who was now standing at the foot of the bed, and then at my dad at the curtain with the guard in front of him. My mom gave me a tiny nod, like it was okay.
I whispered it so only she would hear. "My dad threw it. He threw the water on me. And then he grabbed my mom."
She didn't flinch. She just gave me one slow nod and her eyes stayed on mine. "Thank you for telling me," she said softly. "You're doing the right thing."
She straightened up and her voice got clinical and clear again. She was charting in her head out loud, and I realized she was making sure the guard heard too.
"Bed linens wet, pillow saturated, clear cup on tray," she said, pulling a little notebook from her pocket and writing fast. She looked at my mom. "Ma'am, can you come sit right here next to her?"
My mom moved around the end of the bed and took the plastic chair by my side. She took my hand. Her fingers were cold and shaking. She didn't let go.
The nurse reached down and hit the brake release on my bed with her foot and nudged the whole bed six inches away from my dad and toward the monitor wall. The wheels squeaked. It was such a small move but suddenly there was more space between us and him, and the curtain was more between us too.
She pressed the call button on the wall. "I need the attending in bay four now, and have social work come to the bedside," she said into the intercom. She looked at me again. "We're going to get you examined and keep you safe, okay? No one else is going to touch that pillow until we document it."
At the curtain edge, my dad shifted his weight. The guard mirrored him, staying square in front of him.
"Sir, I need you to keep your hands where I can see them and stay at the curtain," the guard said.
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My dad looked at my mom holding my hand, then at the nurse writing on her clipboard by the wet pillow, and I could see him realize people were writing this down now. He didn't move forward.
My mom squeezed my hand tighter. The nurse pulled a dry blanket up over my legs and left the wet pillow exactly where it was, and for the first time since we got to the emergency room, I felt like someone else was watching out for me besides my mom.
