Tell Them This When I Die

The School For the Gifted

Eris spends a long time in the hospital. Are you taking any drugs, they ask her, over and over again. She shakes her hand. She writes on a little notepad. Warfarin. Don't give me warfarin. Fine, they say.

The police come to the hospital, but the nurses tell them to leave before they can even get into Eris' room. Her jaw is wired shut, they snap. She can't talk. Let her heal.

Eris takes long, deep breaths. The blood is gone. Her skin is swollen, but that goes away after the fifth day. The police come back the sixth day, when they unwire Eris' jaw. They pull up a chair and look at her kindly. We need to know, they ask. Did he hit you?

Are you stupid? Look at me.

Eris doesn't answer their question. She's not sure her voice works.

Ms. Diakos, they say, this is important. Domestic abuse is not okay. We know he hit you, Ms. Diakos. We're going to put him in jail for it. But you need to tell us what happened. You need to confirm it happened.

Eris stares at the IV, drip, dripping down into the tube. She drags her gaze to the nurse—the one that assures her every day that they won't give her warfarin.

Leave, the nurse says. She's in shock.

She's not in shock, the police say. She's fine. She needs to tell us.

Leave, the nurse orders.

Eris looks at the nurse. The swelling is gone now, leaving just those awful bruises. They had to rebreak her nose and surgically repair it. They had to fix her jaw—just a minor fracture, so she'll be back eating hard food in two weeks. It hurts, but they put her under, so there's no blood. She doesn't care. Her beautiful Mediterranean features are ruined with bruises. She doesn't care. Do you have health insurance? They ask. Do you have any family we can contact?

Call Adam, she wants to say. Ask him to come. Tell him to come. I want flowers from him; I want him to sit next to the bed and hold my hand. I'm not scared. I just want Adam to come.

They don't call Adam. Nobody tells Adam. He's unpacking his things in his new office, back at major crime. He's not the case head, but he's still a street Sergeant. He's still respected. There's no proof. Wilkes doesn't know Eris is in the hospital. So nobody tells him.

Do you have insurance? Can you call someone to sort it out for you?

Eris gives them Peter's number. He sprints so fast down the hallway that he slams into the door as he slides into the room. Kayla gets two red light tickets on her way to the hospital.

Eris doesn't talk to them, doesn't look at them. She watches the IV drip into the tube. She hopes it's not warfarin. Peter sets flowers on the table in her room. Kayla asks her if she wants to watch something. Eris watches the IV drip.

Peter gives them the insurance information. Of course she has insurance. She's a multi-millionaire. Here. Take it.

They discharge her. Kayla brought her clothes. I didn't have access to the penthouse, she says. Or I would've brought your stuff.

"I want the Streetheart shirt," Eris says.

Peter looks up quickly. Her voice is cracked, broken. "They threw it out, Eris."

Eris doesn't say anything else. The nurse helps her get the sweater over her face. Peter and Kayla walk with her to the parking lot. The police are waiting.

"We need her to make a statement," they tell Peter and Kayla.

"She needs to go home," says Peter.

Somehow, Eris gets put in the back of the cop car. They take her to the station. They help her into an interrogation room, but they tell her thirty times that this is not an interrogation. Just wait for a moment. Do you want to talk to a female officer? Are you okay with a male?