End of the Innocence

Chapter 60

She was not responding. They had found her on the floor, still tied to the chair, a pool of blood around her head. One man had panicked, calling the man who shouldn’t have been called. And now they stood, in a circle around her body, repeatedly checking for a pulse and untying her limbs. They carried her to a bed, a bed that had already hosted its share of dead bodies, and prayed that hers wouldn’t join the ranks. If she was to die, it was only by his order. Now was not the time, and failure was unacceptable.

♦♦♦

In actuality, I never had a chance to walk down that aisle. It was never in the cards, plans made to remove me from the equation long before I ever tried on wedding dresses, long before invitations were sent. I don’t think dramatics was their intention. Perhaps they thought that snatching me the night before would be enough advance notice to hold the ceremony—to call guests and cancel the event. As it happened, my absence was not discovered in time, and even then, was suspected to be a case of pre-wedding cold feet.

♦♦♦

“Can we panic now?” Rebecca screamed into Olivia’s face, grabbing her shoulders and shaking her roughly, the girl’s thin body shaking like wet spaghetti. “It is time, the guests are seated, and they are about to start the damn music!”

“Stop yelling at me! It’s not my fault she isn’t here!”

“Who called her cell last?” one of the wedding planners asked anxiously.

“I did,” Julia’s mother said, wrapping her sweater tightly around her shoulders. “Her voicemail is full.”

The strands of music almost missed their ears, drifting among the room casually, weaving easily between their strained words. The second planner looked up with a stricken look. “Oh my God. They’re starting.” She fumbled for her sleeve, pushing back the material to reveal a watch face. “Early.” She fled the room, her heels clattering down the hallway.

The room sat in silence, the chords of the song changing as it reached its crescendo.

Becca finally spoke. “So ... what do we do?”

The remaining wedding planner spoke. “We go. Just like we planned. It’ll take ten minutes to do the procession. We’ll just have to pray she shows up.”

♦♦♦

“She’s breathing,” the man spoke rapidly, and the doctor shot him an irritated look.

“I’m well aware of that; I did attend medical school. Please back up and let me examine her.”

“I’m just saying, she must have only been out for a few minutes. I think she’s just sleeping now. Might still be from the chloroform. If she’s breathing then she’s not dead, right? And we checked for a pulse—it seems ... present.”

The doctor bit back a sarcastic response and started his examination. “It means she’s not dead yet. That could all change quickly depending on what is going on with her brain. At the minimum, we’re talking a concussion. What are these?” He ran his fingers lightly over a bandage on her shoulder, blood staining its edges.

“We cut her. With a knife. When we found her on the floor. Some thought she was faking. But she didn’t flinch.” He chewed at the edge of his cuticle nervously.

The doctor raised his eyebrows but said nothing, moving to the front of her body and lifting her head slightly, his fingers gently probing the wound on the back of her head.

“Best I can tell: she was unconscious when you found her. You’re right in that she is sleeping—that can be from her concussion. Her pupils show that she was sedated recently, that she might have just gained consciousness recently before her head trauma. The drugs are still in her system, and could partially account for her state. But head trauma is a messy and unpredictable animal. Normally, I’d do a CT or MRI scan. But I’m assuming that this is a situation where you don’t want her to be moved?” He glanced at the men, one giving a silent nod. “Well, I don’t want to put any more drugs in her system. From the looks of the wound, and the fact that she is sleeping right now, the impact on her skull was pretty severe. All we can do is wait, and let me talk to her when she wakes up. A concussion can be deadly, but we’ll know in a few hours if you’ll have another body to deal with.” He pulled off his latex gloves and dropped them in the closest trashcan. “I’ve got to get back to the house. Call me if anything changes.”

“Thanks, Doc.”

Hands were shaken and the doctor left, leaving the two men alone with her, their eyes meeting above her body, silent communication passing between them.

“The boss is gonna be pissed.”

“Not if she pulls through. You still got her phone?”

“Yeah. Lots of calls and texts. Should I respond to any more of them?”

“No. Drive a few miles away and kill it. I’ll watch her. Talk to the boss while you’re gone. Feel out the situation.”

There was a silent power struggle, and then the man spoke, “Okay. I’ll be back soon. Call me if she wakes up.” He glanced at the girl, then back at the man. “I’ll be back soon.”

“And I’ll be here.”