I’ve never been so happy to see Callum. Even if his own house is a mess, it’s clear people listen to him. He leaves the waiting room to go shake down some higher-up and find out what the heck is happening to Reed.
He returns less than five minutes later. “Reed’s in surgery. It looks good. They pulled him in there to see if anything vital was hit, but it was shallower than it appeared at first. The knife wound was neat and clean. There’s some tissue and muscle damage but that should heal with time.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “A clean knife wound. Listen to me, what am I even saying?” He levels a hard look at Easton. “I can’t believe you would take Ella down to wharf if it was this dangerous.”
Easton pales. “It was never dangerous before. It was just a bunch of punks, like me, wanting to gamble and punch the shit out of each other. We knew everyone. Weapons are never allowed. This happened when we were leaving.”
“This true, Ella?” Callum demands.
I nod frantically. “It’s true. I never felt like I was in danger, and some of these kids were from Astor but also from other prep schools. I never saw any guns or anything.”
“Then you’re saying it was random?” It’s clear from the disbelief on his face that Callum doesn’t think this is random at all.
Easton rubs a hand across his mouth. “No, not saying that.”
“Ella?”
“It was Daniel,” I say in a small voice. “And it’s my fault.”
“How so? Did you hold the knife?”
I press my lips between my teeth to keep from crying. I don’t want to break down right now, even though I feel like I’m on the edge of a real bad emotional breakdown.
“I didn’t report Daniel. I should’ve but I didn’t want to deal with the mess. My past isn’t pretty and the testifying, the shit-talking at school…I already get enough of it.” And I thought I was stronger, but apparently I’m not. I hang my head in shame.
“Oh, sweetheart.” Callum comes to put his arm around me. “This isn’t your fault. Even if you had reported Daniel, he would still be out. You don’t go to jail just because someone fills out a police report. There’s a whole trial process.”
Unconvinced, I shrink away from his comfort.
Easton clears his throat. “Not your fault, Ella. I should’ve taught him a lesson.”
Callum shakes his head. “I’m all for a fist in the face if it does good, but I don’t see an end to this problem by beating the kid up. Hiring someone to stab my son is beyond the realm of an average bully. A few more inches to the left and…” His voice trails off, but my mind fills in the blanks.
A few more inches to the left and we’d be planning a funeral. And maybe Callum’s right that Reed’s stabbing would have happened even if I’d reported Daniel, but staying silent doesn’t sit right with me anymore.
I can’t drag Daniel down the front steps of the school and humiliate him into stopping. I tried that route once. And Reed already beat him up. Daniel’s not going to stop by himself.
Someone has to stop him.
“What if I reported what happened?” I ask.
“About tonight?” Callum prompts.
Easton frowns, but I ignore him.
“No, the other night. When he drugged me. I mean, it’s too late to get tests and stuff, but there were other people there in the room. Some guy named Hugh. Two girls from North. They know that Daniel drugged me.”
Callum draws back so he can look at my face. There’s a concerned expression on his. “I’m not going to lie to you, honey. These sort of things are really ugly for the victims, and your drugging happened a while ago. There’s no way for us to take samples of your blood. If the other people don’t—or won’t testify—it’ll be your word against his.”
I know this and it’s why I never reported it in the first place. Reporting it is a big hassle that never seems to have any good results, particularly for the person who was hurt. But what’s the alternative? Keep my mouth shut so that Daniel can continue to find victims?
“Maybe. But I’m not the only one he’s hurt. Maybe if I come forward, other people will, too.”
“All right. We’ll stand behind you, of course.” He says it matter-of-factly, as if there’s no other path he could conceive taking. Like my mom would do if she were alive. “We have resources. We’ll hire a PR team and the best lawyers. They’ll dig into Daniel’s background until the Delacortes’ ancestors’ skeletons come popping out.”
He’s about to say something else, but the door to the waiting room opens and a doctor appears. There’s no blood on his scrubs and he doesn’t look sad.
I sigh with relief. I don’t know why. I guess because if he had a lot of blood on him, it’d mean the surgery had been terrible and Reed’s life would’ve been staining the cotton.
“Mr. Royal?” he says as he approaches. “I’m Dr. Singh. Your son is fine. The knife hit no major organs. It was largely superficial. He caught the blade in his hands and he has wounds on his palms, but those should heal within the next ten to fifteen days. He should avoid any vigorous activity.”