Chapter 5: False Accusations
Dad took me to the hospital in the morning and then went to work. He squeezed my hand before leaving, promising to bring me a Sprite from the vending machine later.
Mom doesn’t work; she’s a homemaker, so she stayed in the hospital to take care of me. She sat beside my bed, knitting half a scarf and watching true crime reruns on her tablet with the sound low.
At noon, Mom planned to buy me something to eat from the hospital cafeteria. She brushed my bangs back, fussing about how pale I looked and what soup might help.
Just then, she got a call from Emily’s parents and answered it. The ringtone was a Christmas jingle she never remembered to change. She pressed the phone to her ear, smiling politely at first.
'Hello, what’s up?'
Emily’s mother’s angry voice came from the other end.
She was so loud that even though Mom didn’t put her on speaker, I could hear every word. The harsh words bounced off the sterile hospital walls.
'What’s wrong with your son? Why didn’t he go to school with Emily today?'
'He said he’d protect my daughter, but he let my daughter get hurt like this today!'
Mom was stunned by the scolding. Her mouth fell open, knitting needles frozen in mid-air.
'Wait, what?'
'Emily’s mom, what do you mean? My son has a high fever and took sick leave today. What happened to your daughter?' I could see the worry morphing into confusion on Mom’s face.
'Bring your son and come to the hospital now!'
Emily’s mother hung up angrily. The click was so abrupt, Mom stared at the phone as if it might bite her.
Even my usually mild-tempered mom was annoyed and couldn’t help but mutter, 'Is she crazy? Her daughter gets in trouble—what’s that got to do with us?' She shook her head, her lips pressed tight, and glanced at me with a look of protective indignation.
Hearing this, I knew Jason had succeeded in assaulting Emily this time. A cold knot twisted in my stomach. I’d tried to warn her—tried to stay out of it this time.
Just as my IV finished, Mom and I went to see Emily together. I pulled on my hoodie, bracing myself for what I knew was coming.
Emily was being examined in the ER, accompanied by her mother and the police. The harsh fluorescent lights made everything feel even colder, more clinical.
The doctor’s face was grim. 'There’s evidence of recent… trauma,' he said quietly, not meeting anyone’s eyes. The words echoed, thick with implication.
The police questioned her seriously, 'Miss, were you forced? If you tell us, we can hold the perpetrator criminally responsible.' The officer’s voice was steady, but there was a note of gentle encouragement—he was trying to help her, to do the right thing.
Emily’s mother cried and slapped her thigh: 'Which animal dared to hurt my daughter like this? Tell me, and Mom will stand up for you!' Her sobs echoed down the hallway, drawing stares from nurses and patients alike.
Emily stood there in disheveled clothes, not daring to speak. Her eyes darted from her mother to the cop to the floor, hands clenched in fists at her sides.
'It was... it was Ryan Carter.'
Emily, unwilling to expose her lover, gave my name under her mother’s questioning. My pulse raced, hands shaking, as flashes of headlines and social media hate from my last life flickered through my mind. Even with a second chance, the nightmare found me.
I stared at Emily, her eyes flat and unreadable. The officer’s pen hovered over his notepad. For a moment, I wondered if fate really wanted me dead. Or if this time, I’d finally fight back.
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