I was typing back when the ambulance bay doors hissed open. Two paramedics wheeled in a woman who looked like she'd been through hell, her left eye swollen shut, her arm cradled against her chest. Walking beside the gurney was a man in his forties, doing all the talking.
"She fell down the stairs," he was saying to anyone who'd listen. "Clumsy as hell, my Lisa. Always tripping over something."
I looked up from my phone, and my stomach dropped. The woman — Lisa — wasn't making eye contact withanyone. She was staring at the ceiling, her visible eye glazed with the particular kind of numbness I'd seen before.
"Chloe," I called quietly. "Room 6."
She appeared at my elbow, took one look at the incoming patient, and I saw her face change. Only three months on the job — still a “toddler” in ER terms — and she was already starting to develop the instincts.
"Fell down the stairs?" she whispered.
"So they say."
We got Lisa settled in Room 6, the man hovering at her bedside like a guard dog. He answered every question I directed at her, his hand never leaving her shoulder in what might have looked like comfort but felt like control.
"Lisa, I need to ask you directly about your pain level," I said, ignoring him. "On a scale of one to ten — "
"She's about a six," the man interrupted. "Aren't you, baby? Not too bad."
Lisa nodded mutely, but I caught the way she flinched when he squeezed her shoulder.
"We need to get some X-rays," I said, my voice professionally neutral. "Sir, I'll need you to step out to the waiting room while we position her."
"I'm not leaving her alone," he said, his voice taking on an edge. "She gets confused when she's hurt. Needs me here."
"Hospital policy," I said firmly. "Radiation safety. I'll come get you as soon as we're done."
He started to argue, but I was already moving, opening the door and gesturing toward the hallway. "Just for a few minutes. There's coffee in the waiting room."
The moment he was gone, I turned to Chloe. "Get Carly. Now."
"Jimmy, what — "
"Trust me. Get Carly, and make sure that guy stays in the waiting area."
Carly appeared within minutes, took one look at Lisa, andI saw the same recognition in her eyes. We'd both been here before.
"Lisa," Carly said gently, pulling up a chair beside the bed. "How are you really doing?"
Lisa's composure cracked just slightly. "I'm fine. Just clumsy."
"The stairs must have been really steep," I said carefully. "Those injuries on your ribs look like they came from multiple impacts."
Lisa's good eye flicked to the door, then back to me. Fear. Pure, undiluted fear.
"He's not here," Carly said softly. "It's just us. You're safe."
For a moment, I thought she might open up. Her lips parted, and I could see her fighting with herself. Then she shook her head.
"I fell down the stairs," she repeated, but her voice was hollow.
Carly and I exchanged glances. We both knew what we were looking at, but without Lisa's cooperation, our hands were tied.
"Lisa," I said, leaning forward, "if you're not safe at home, we can help you. There are places you can go, people who can keep you safe. You don't have to — "
"I can't... there's nowhere..." Her voice broke. "The money, he... I don't even..." She gestured helplessly at her purse. "No cards. Nothing."
There it was. The trap that kept so many women locked in hell.
