Insanity Stains Red

seventeen

My arm was itchy. I cracked my eyes open enough to glare at the IV attached to it, and at the same time becoming aware of a presence in the room; Detective Samson. He was sitting in the chair beside my bed, his face thoughtful as he stared into the distance.

“Penny for your thoughts?” I croaked, pulling myself into a sitting position and reaching for the water on the bedside table. The cool liquid was soothing on my sore throat.

The detective jerked in surprise at my words. Obviously not having realised I was awake. “Oh.” He said dismissively. “I wasn’t really thinking about anything in particular.” I could tell he was lying, and was tempted to call bullshit, but I decided to let it go. It had been a long enough day as it was, and he was probably just trying to spare me the grizzly details. It was a nice thought.

“What’s the news?” I asked. I’d been out long enough; surely something would have happened by now.

“They raided and got the guys…” The hesitation in his voice and the look on his face told me there was bad news coming, and I braced myself mentally. “I’m sorry Evelyn, they went for the girls as soon as they realised we were raiding. There are eight down in the ICU. I don’t know if we saved any others, but the ones down there are in bad shape; I don’t know what their chances are like.”

I nodded, accepting the inevitable. It wasn’t as if I had been expecting anything else. My father’s men were vindictive. If they went down, then everyone else would too. They’d make sure of it.

“The purple-haired girl wanted me to tell you ‘thank you’ from her.” Detective Samson smiled as he said it, proud that he could pass on something positive – a seemingly innocent thanks from a fellow victim. I clenched my teeth.

“I don’t deserve her thanks.”

“What do you mean by that?” I remained silent and he huffed. “She told me that she treated you badly before, and regretted that now – she understands how much you did for her, for all of them. You saved them.”

I shrugged and looked away. He made me sound like a good person that got caught up in some bad shit and made the most of it. That’s not what happened at all. I wasn’t a good person. I deserved to rot in jail with my father and the others. Detective Samson just couldn’t see that. I wasn’t comfortable with this conversation. He took the hint and stood up, stretching to relieve the tension of sitting still for so long. “Well, I’ll let you rest, I’m sure you need it. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t wake up alone. He handed me a business card – very official looking. “Call me if you need anything, okay? I’ll be back later to check on you. Mind the doctors now, they know what’s best.”

I took the card and gave a half-hearted wave goodbye. Then I closed my eyes and let sleep take me once more.

I was in the hospital for three weeks, pretty much on lockdown due to my injuries. I wasn’t complaining much though, they were making me better, and it wasn’t like I had anywhere else to go anyway. I was officially homeless; what a depressing thought.

Detective Samson checked in every other day, if not in person, he’d call the phone in my room. He kept me updated on the progress of the girls, too. I’d recovered enough to walk around, but nothing could get me to go down and visit them. Still, I made sure I knew how they were progressing. I felt I owed it to them.

Of the eight girls that had come in, one had had complications during her surgery and had not made it through. Two others were permanently disfigured and another would remain in the ICU for several months longer, but the doctors were hopeful she’s make a full recovery. In an extra bit of good news, Detective Samson had happily informed me that there had been a further seven girls who had survived the raid. They’d only received minor injuries and hadn’t needed to go to the hospital, instead being issued straight into police custody and protection.