Priscilla 19.
As I head into Ellen’s tiny office, I catch a glimpse of Dr. Stanton entering the PICU. Why would he be here? Jason hasn’t woken up, and the doctors aren’t sure that he ever will.
“Priscilla, come in and close the door.” Ellen shakes me out of my thoughts, so I do as I’m told and then take a seat across from her.
“Thank you for taking the time to talk to me.”
“Of course, Priss, you are an excellent nurse, I would be remiss not take your concerns seriously.”
“I appreciate that. As you are aware, I contacted the police and CPS last week regarding Jason Wells. Noted during my exam, I found multiple signs of past and present abuse and felt alarmed that nothing had been filed prior, especially in light of the extensive history of personal injury he has sustained during his short life.”
“Yes, I read through that and spoke to the police myself, a Detective Don Smythe. My understanding is that he interviewed the father and stepmother, however, did not find anything amiss in the household.”
“And what about Dr. Stanton’s involvement? He has clearly acted without the best interest of that child by ignoring such a dangerous home setting.”
“I agree this does not settle well with me. But my hands are tied, as are yours. We have reported the problem, we have to let the authorities investigate. I informed Detective Smythe of Dr. Stanton and he said he would look into it as well.” She looks at a few papers in front of her, “I haven’t heard anything from CPS, but I will make a call tomorrow morning to see what’s happening on their end. Priscilla, I know that you are concerned, and I believe you have every right to be, we just need to follow protocol, as hard as that is sometimes.”
I look down at my trembling hands, shaking my head in frustration. I know something isn’t right. “Thank you for listening to me, please let me know if CPS has anything to say.”
“Absolutely. Now, go home, enjoy a glass of wine and spend some time with that hunky man of yours.”
I blush at her words, though she ain’t wrong. My man is fine! “Sounds like a great plan, have a good night, Ellen.”
I still feel…vomity when I leave Ellen’s office, get changed in the locker room and start my drive to Garrett. My thoughts swirl, bringing on a headache. When disease threatens the life of a child, a numbing impotence takes over, knowing that you can’t do anything but what medicine allows and hope the child responds to treatment. It is eclipsed, however, seeing the abuse of a seven-year-old boy, knowing that no one has done anything to help him in the past, and understanding that as he lies potentially permanently unconscious in the hospital bed, I’m too late to help him in the future.
I’m startled by the siren and flashing lights of a police cruiser in my rearview mirror. I check my speedometer, noting I’m going the speed limit. I pull over, quickly grab my license and registration and my cell phone. Out of instinct, I pull up daddio’s name, but don’t hit the call button yet. I see two officers approaching my car from either side and place my hands on the steering wheel in plain sight.
One officer knocks on my window, blinding me with a flashlight. I roll down my window, halfway. “License and Registration.” I can’t see his face.
“Hello, officer. Can you tell me why you pulled me over?”
“License and registration.” He repeats, spitting the words at me. My stomach knots. I see light coming in through the passenger window, but the officer at mine pulls my attention back to him. “Now!” He roars.
I hand them over with my right hand, keeping my left hidden beneath my thigh, cell phone gripped tightly. He scans my license with his flashlight, allowing me to see his face in partial profile. In the dark, I can see he wears glasses, has dark hair, clean shaven face with a dimple in his chin. He’s probably a few inches taller than me, on the skinnier side.
“Out of the car Miss Pipilini. You’ve been a bad girl.” He shakes his head as if disappointed in me.
“I don’t…understand.” I take deep breath to calm me, I’m already shaking, if I lose my cool, I won’t be any good to myself. The next thing I know, my passenger window shatters, a hand reaches in and unlocks the doors, and my own in wrenched open. I press my thumb on the call button as I’m dragged screaming and kicking and punching from the car.
The road isn’t terribly busy at this time of night, quiet neighborhood, just my luck. The officer has his hand in my hair, pulling me along the asphalt to the passenger side of my car, into the grass, away from the eyes of anyone passing by.
“No! Stop!” I try prying his hand from my hair, punching his forearms, scratching anything I can reach. He hisses a couple of times but isn’t otherwise deterred. He throws me to the ground, planting one knee on my chest to stop me from moving. He’s crushing my chest. I fight his leg, but as skinny as he is, he isn’t moving. I ball my fist and punch into his junk. He lets out an unearthly howl and let’s up enough for me to breath again.
“Fucking cunt!” He punches me in the face with the hand not holding is balls.
“Now, now, now, honey.” I know that voice. Why do I know
