I enter the elevator to get to floor 3 of the local hospital. Ms. Wilson was hanging next to my side silently in the silver-plated walls of the elevator, eagerly and nervously looking around. Her face was puffy and red from the crying.
I was still almost in a state of shock. For months now, I've been crying about Emma and wondering where she had gone with that monster. I was concentrated on seeing her and getting to be at peace with the idea of where she had been, so I didn't have time to cry just yet.
The elevator dings.
I take a step out, feeling that my body was beginning to shake and my steps felt wobbly. I looked down the long hall of hospital rooms. There was a distinct smell of rubbing alcohol and clean bandages in the hospital that I didn't like. That smell whiffed into my face like a semitruck, consuming any other smell that could of been there.
I continued along the path of white-washed walls and brown carpet to get to the service desk for this floor. As I approach, I see a woman wearing classic blue scrubs, but with childish pink slippers. Her eyes catch mine almost immediately.
"Um, I'm here for Emma Wilson?" I stammer, my hands fidgeting together under the desk. Saying that name again felt so foreign to me and I was extremely scared to be seeing her. I didn't know what to expect.
"Okay, and what's your relationship with miss Emma?" She looks up with a smile.
"She's... her friend. And I'm her mother," Ms. Wilson comes in from behind. "I was here about 20 minutes ago?" I stare down the hallway that was to the right of the desk. There were a few nurses in the same blue outfit coming in and out of doors, wearing masks and bringing in tables with medical things. It made me squirm.
"Ah yes, my apologies," she clasps her hands together and gets out of her black chair. "Let me take you in." She waves a friendly hand in a gesture to get us to follow. I look back at Ms. Wilson.
My heart felt like it was being crushed between two rocks. The nervousness was building up more than I've ever felt, making it hard for me to simply breath. But I had to see her.
We follow her down the hallway until eventually she stops at a door labeled "67", letting her hand out. "She's in there. Take as much time as you need, ok?" She nods at both of us and smiles warmly before walking back to her service desk spot. I stare at the door, thinking about what I was about to see.
"I'm gonna throw up," I mutter, looking at Ms. Wilson once more for comfort. I feel her arm wrap around my shoulder comfortingly.
"Just breath. It's ok," she says with a soft and genuine tone. I close my eyes and take a deep breath as I pull the door open.
I was greeted with a sight that both made me want to sob out of happiness and out of immense sadness. She was there, laying unconsciously against the small white hospital bed.
I walk closer, my eyes furrowed down sadly and my hand covering my face. I could now see her full face from it being turned to the right. She was covered in yellow and purple bruising. It made me tear up.
She was hooked to so many machines. An oxygen mask was hooked to her mouth tightly. It made a loud sound as it pumped lungs artificially with the very necessary oxygen. Her heart dial machine, it was beeping steadily and the monitor showed normal lines. But she was completely gone, she looked like she was in a coma. IVs were hooked into both of her arms. Ot looked like she was being given vitamins, water, and medicines.
I stared down in shock at my best friend. My eyes began to swell even more as I noticed her weight. She was so brittle and weak. It made my heart crack in tiny pieces. I couldn't be more happy to see her at least alive, but she didn't look like she was doing very good from what Michael had done to her.
Her room had 2 chairs to the right side of her and a small TV, which for some reason, was on and playing strange sitcoms. The LED light above was very bright and it almost made me feel bad for Emma even if she wasn't awake.
I sit softly in the chair, my eyes exploring up and down her body. She was wearing thin, cheap hospital patient clothes with famr aniamls printed all over. They had tucked her in from the ribs and down tightly, but you could still see all the damage he inflicted upon her from the small parts we could see.
I feel her mother drop her purse on a small table next to her and lay back in the chair next to me. It was silent aside from the blabber and buzzing coming from the TV above us. I didn't mind it.
We sat in silence for a few seconds more until she wanted to talk. "How is it? Seeing her?" She asks.
I keep my eyes glued to her. "It's... sttange," I reply quietly. "I never expected her to ever get lucky enough for this." I reach up and touch her hand. It was rough and there was dirt under her once-perfect fingernails. "I can't wait for her to wake up again. I miss her so much." I hold her hand, hoping that somehow it'd help her wake up and I'd be able to laugh and talk with her again.
It goes quiet for a few more long seconds. "I've been wanting to ask you this for so long, and it seems like the right time," she clears her throat and places her warm hand against the top of mine. I break eye contact with Emma and turn to look at her. "What did he do to you?"
I felt my stomach turn and my head thump, causing me to look down. I felt my throat begin to go dry. "I, uh, um. He-," I stutter. Where do I even start?
"Ask me... directly. What do you wonder?" I take a deep breath again.
It felt good to be able to tell her. For once, I was comfortable enough to let someone know. Things were turning around for the better and Ms. Wilson had been my savior throughout this time pf healing. It's fair that she knows what happened to us.
"Did he... abuse you?" She asks. I could tell she didn't want to say anything that could make me uncomfortable so I answer everything for her.
"He beat us, all the time. He never did anything sexual to me, but he... forced it upon me and Emma," I cringe as I remember that night. I look to the side where Emma laid and continue to spill my trauma. "He starved us, punched us, cut us, and played mind games with us. He did this all for fun." I look back at her. Her face was covered in pure discomfort and fear.
"He also sold us.... to random men. He would hurt Emma and force me to watch. I fought so many times until eventually I had given up and I was ready to accept that as my new life. It was... terrible," I say quietly, keeping my eyes down. Suddenly, I felt guilty for what we went through. I got out first, and she didn't? It wasn't fair.
"Jacey, oh my God. I'm so glad you're ok now. I... do you want a hug?" She reaches her arms up, prepared to do so if I said yes. I could tell that she had no idea what to do to help, but I didn't need any help so I nod no, and she puts them back down. I could see tears filling her eyes. I look away, keeping my hand with Emma's.
"What did he look like?" She asks, curiosity and hesitance ringing through her voice.
I keep my eyes low. "He had black, curly hair and uh," I think harder. "I can't remember." I shake my head at the disappointment. I must've blocked it out.
"That's ok, we'll figure it out. Everything will be ok now," She brings me close to her with a side hug. I hold her arm with my right hand.
We sit for another hour or two with the only sound being the machines and TV. Occasionally we would laugh and be reminiscing on the times we had with her. It was such a relief to have her back.
