The exam itself is slow, clinical. I flinch at parts. Bite the inside of my cheek. But she doesn’t let it get away from me.
“You’re safe,” she repeats, again and again. “You’re doing exactly what you need to do.” Her voice pulls me back when I start to feel like I’m floating away from my body.
I’m shaking by the end. Silent tears streaming down my cheeks. But I did it. It’s done. She covers me back up, snaps off her gloves, and looks me in the eye.
“You did something incredibly hard tonight, Isobel. I’m proud of you.”
The words don’t sink in. Not yet. But I hold onto them anyway. Nurse Lang is just finishing packing up the kit when there’s a knock at the door. She looks over.
Dr. Ramirez steps in, followed by a man in a plain suit and a badge clipped to his belt. Early 40s. Not the kind of cop who wants to scare you, at least not today.
“Isobel,” Dr. Ramirez gestures to the man beside her, “this is Detective Harlan. He’s here to take your statement, only if you’re ready.”
I nod.
Nurse Lang exchanges a few words with Dr. Ramirez and Detective Harlan. Their voices low and quiet. Then she rolls her cart out with a silent nod. Dr Ramirez closes the door behind her, then stands against the wall. Detective Harlan walks over and positions himself at the foot of my bed, opening a small notebook on the table.
“I know you’ve been through something awful tonight, Isobel,” he says, voice even and slow. “And I’m not here to push you. But I want to ask a few questions while the details are still fresh. Just what you know. What you remember.”
“Oh, I’m sure I’m not going to forget this night any time soon.” I know the sarcasm won’t do anything but I can’t help it.
He glances at Dr. Ramirez, then back at me. “We’re trying to get a clearer picture of your situation.”
I swallow hard.
“He’s not my real dad,” I say. My voice is hoarse. “Daniel. He’s just been around since I was five. My mom—” I stop. I don’t know what to say about her. About what she didn’t do.
“Okay.” He nods. “And do you know your mother’s full name?”
“Celia Mercer,” I whisper. “But she used to go by Mason before she got married. “
He scribbles something down, the sound of his pen scratching the paper comforting me somehow.
“Is your biological father in the picture?”
The fuzzy memory of him making waffles that morning flashes in my mind.
I shake my head. “My mom has never told me who he was. Always said he was gone.”
“Gone?” Detective Harlan raises an eyebrow.
“She didn’t clarify…but from what little I can remember of him, it doesn’t seem like him to just leave. And I think I would’ve remembered if he died.”
The soft look in his eyes as he watched my mom, when he looked at me.
What happened?
My mind starts to race, trying to think back.
“I remember we left and then met with Daniel. Could he have done something to my dad?” If my eyes get any wider, they’re going to fall out and roll across the floor.
Detective Harlan nods. “It’s possible. Especially with Daniel’s violent history.”
“Is there any way you can find him?”
“If Daniel did do something, he could be missing. We can try to take your DNA to get a familial match in the Missing Persons Database.”
“Yes. Please, can we do that?”
