Chapter 3 - The Hospital Room
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The drive to Memorial General Hospital was a blur of agonizing pain and sharp, hyper-focused adrenaline. Every time Skylar turned the steering wheel, the skin on her neck stretched, sending fresh waves of fire radiating up into her scalp. She parked in the emergency room lot, grabbed her canvas bag, and walked through the sliding glass doors, holding the now-warm towel to her face.
At the triage desk, a nurse named Teresa took one look at her and immediately guided her into a private examination room. She asked Skylar to sit on the edge of the bed and gently pulled the damp towel away.
"Oh, sweetheart," Teresa murmured, her professional demeanor softening with immediate sympathy. "That is a severe second-degree burn. We need to get you pain management and sterile dressings right away. How did this happen?"
Skylar’s first, deeply ingrained instinct was to lie.
She had lied before, though never about anything this physically severe. She had called heavy bruises clumsy accidents, called terrifying threats marital stress, and called absolute financial control loving concern. Each lie had been small enough to swallow alone, but together they had formed a massive, suffocating wall around her life.
"The coffee spilled," Skylar began, looking down at her ruined white blouse.
Teresa stopped preparing the saline wash and studied Skylar's face with quiet, knowing eyes. She had worked in the emergency department long enough to recognize the difference between an accident and an assault.
"Did the cup slip from your hand?" Teresa asked softly, keeping her voice completely free of judgment.
Skylar looked up. She thought of Derek’s perfectly pressed blue shirt. She thought of Suzanne complaining about being embarrassed over a designer handbag. She thought of the audio file safely tucked away in multiple digital clouds, containing the sound of her own agonizing scream.
The wall she had built for six years suddenly felt paper-thin.
"No," Skylar said, her voice shaking but growing louder in the quiet room. "It didn't slip. My husband threw it at my face."
Teresa didn't gasp or express shock. She simply nodded, a look of fierce determination settling over her features.
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"I am going to clean this and give you something for the pain," Teresa said. "And then, if you are willing, I am going to call a social worker and an officer to come speak with you. You are safe here, Skylar. He cannot get into this room."
"Call them," Skylar replied, feeling a strange, powerful sense of relief wash over her. "Call them right now. I have the evidence."
