“Gia asked for you,” Marin says, ignoring my question.
My face betrays my shock. Gia and I barely know each other now. When she was born, I was enthralled with her. Her unabashed happiness, delight at every turn. I didn’t know a human was capable of such joy. When I left, I gave up any hope of us having a relationship.
“She said she knew you worked here. Wanted your support.” She glances back, toward the closed curtain. “I didn’t know how to get ahold of you so I contacted Dr. Ford.”
“I’m glad you did.” I want to reach for her hand, the one with the nails digging into her forearm, but I don’t. “What happened?”
Before she can answer, a doctor I don’t recognize pulls the curtain back to reveal Gia standing in a hospital gown, her face washed with tears. Another woman, not a hospital employee from what I can gather, stands nearby. The doctor motions us in. I glance at Marin for approval, but she is focused on her daughter.
“There are some new bruises,” the doctor says. “I’ve read the notes from Deborah and agree with her assessment of the older bruises. Gia’s ribs are also fractured. She’s lucky they weren’t broken.”
“Any internal damage?” Marin’s voice is steady, a contrast to her demeanor.
“I can run further tests, but from my initial exam I don’t believe so.”
I stand, listening in shock. When I meet my niece’s eyes, I see what is as familiar to me as living—fear.
“Once we get the all clear, you can take her home. I’ll make sure the police get my report immediately.”
Marin nods, any words of thanks seeming out of place. The doctor walks past her, leaving just the four of us.
“I’m Deborah.” The woman I don’t recognize reaches out to shake my hand. “The family resemblance is striking.”
“Sonya. Gia’s aunt.” It is odd to say. I haven’t been anything to anybody for so long, the words sound foreign on my tongue. I move toward Gia, unsure where else to go. “Are you all right?”
“No, she’s not,” Marin answers instead. “Her boyfriend has been beating her up.”
In shock, I drop my gaze, unable to look at her. I stare at the floor, willing the nausea to subside. The story is not over as we had hoped. It didn’t end with our generation. Innocent, untouched by Dad’s violence, and yet here Gia stands, bruised and broken as if she had been raised under the same roof as us. Before I can speak, before I can fathom what words to utter, the curtain is pushed aside to reveal a hurried and distraught Raj.
“Tell me now,” he says, going straight toward his daughter.
I walk out, unable to bear witness to their heartbreak. First their voices are loud and then a whisper. Raj’s voice holds the tears that Marin’s speech never will. I want to walk away, to be as far away as possible, but my feet refuse to move. Gia asked for me. I cannot run, not today.
I’ve never been to the Trauma Unit. There was never a need for me here since patients don’t come to stay. The wing houses doctors and nurses who care for victims of rape, assault, anything that can be dealt with medically within hours, though the scars might last a lifetime. After their traumatic event, victims often yearn to stay within the confines of safety the hospital corridors offer. Here, no one can hurt them again.
“How is she?” David asks gently, coming to stand right in front of me.
His concern cuts through my thoughts. I didn’t see him arrive. “Beaten, bruised, ribs fractured,” I whisper, staring at nothing in the distance.
“Damn it.” He runs his hand through his hair. “Did they catch the person?”