“I love you so much,” Ryder said, his voice breaking. “Please, don’t go anywhere.”
He was crying. I heard his sobs perfectly as he pressed his face against mine, and I knew that everyone in the room heard him, too, because he wasn’t trying to hide the fact that he was crying, he was wailing as if nobody was watching.
It was then that I fully shut down and silently drifted into darkness, even though inside, I was screaming.
Three weeks later…
“I’m goin’ for a walk,” I said to my sister. “I’m goin’ batshit crazy being cooped up in here.”
It had been three weeks since the attack and death of Big Phil, and my life had become a shit-storm. An even bigger one than before.
Health wise—I was on the mend and each day my pain became less and less. I got more movement out of my shoulder and leg without nagging discomfort as well which I was most thankful for because being bed ridden wasn’t for me at all, I was used to being on my feet and suddenly being off them sucked.
Work wise—I was on paid leave. The Health Board was made aware of what happened to me, and they booked me with a therapist to talk about everything—when I was ready—before I could return to work. Ash was the only person in the hospital who knew what happened to me. He didn’t know everything, just that I was attacked and taken to a dangerous man’s apartment that ended in his death. He had been incredible, and even though I was sure it was very difficult for him to have heard my actual kidnapping over the phone. He was the one who called my family and told them what he heard; it’s why they were all together as they awaited Big Phil’s call. When he was told not to call the Gardaí, he listened and trusted Ryder and his brothers. He made sure to visit and call me as often as he usually would when I got home. The normality of it made me feel a little more like myself.
Law wise—Everything had gone perfectly. After I gave my detailed statement in the hospital of what happened with Big Phil—the lying version Kane coached me on—the Gardaí only came to see me a few more times to follow up on a few minor things. To them, it was obvious that what ‘I’ did was out of self-defence so there was no need for any trails of any kind. The suspect who harmed me was dead, and I was okay. Case closed.
Privacy wise—I had none. You would think being attacked, kidnapped and almost killed would be punishment enough, but according to the media, my story was everyone’s business. My attack made front-page news in the papers, and even onto the evening news. It was a choppy story they were presenting because I refused permission for interviews, and the right for anyone to use my name and photo, and since the Gardaí couldn’t find any trace of Big Phil’s existence anywhere, they had no information on him either, just that he kidnapped a girl then was killed in self-defence. It was a mystery to the world, and that was the way we wanted it to remain.
Family wise—I was at my wits’ end. My sister, the girls and Ryder’s brothers all became mother hens, and while I greatly appreciated their help, it was driving me bloody insane. Someone was always with me, they never let me do anything for myself and if I winced or made any sound that showed my pain, they were right there trying to shove pain pills down my throat.
Relationship wise—mine was non-existent. I thought that when I saw Ryder for the first time after I woke up in the hospital that I would want nothing more than for him to hold me like I did when I heard his voice back in Big Phil’s apartment. I didn’t though. I demanded for him to be removed from the hospital and banned him from visiting me. When I saw him, his betrayal slapped me across the face with a force that shook my bones.
I only had to spend a few days in the hospital, and when I was let out, I chose to go to Dominic and Bronagh’s house. I didn’t want to see Ryder, speak to him, or to think of him at all. Bronagh went over and packed up some of my clothes for me so I wouldn’t even have to step foot in the house.
I didn’t want anything to do with him.
Of course, that meant nothing to him because he constantly tried to gain entry to my childhood home, shouting for me to ‘let him explain’. I humourlessly laughed every time he said it, and every time I thought about him saying it. He wanted to explain himself now, but not the millions of times I asked him before I was kidnapped. I refused to ‘hear him out’ and his brothers respected that so they kept him at bay.