(Author's note: this story deals with some very gritty and harsh subject matter. This is not for those looking for a straightforward sex story. There are many themes that some people might find objectionable, but to reveal them might give away parts of the story prematurely. If you continue reading, please keep this warning in mind.)
(This is the last of an eight-part series.)
Part Eight
June sat up in the hospital bed, looking at the various tubes plugged into her arms. She hated hospitals. The last time she had been in one, she had been a teenager in need of a cast for her arm after driving – drunk – into a parked and thankfully uninhabited car. That had not been pleasant, yet the experience paled in comparison to the invasive but necessary procedure of submitting to a rape kit examination.
As if I needed someone else to confirm what happened to me.
The flatscreen TV mounted on the wall was tuned in to a local news station. There had been no end to the parade of "exclusive" stories regarding the investigation and ultimate death of the Tolomeo twins. It turned her stomach that some of the ignorant comments posted on the news show's Facebook page were in support of the dead brothers, suggesting that they should have been "properly" investigated and that "vigilante" police should not have been allowed to go after them.
Put yourselves in my shoes, June thought derisively. Show me what a 'proper' fucking investigation is.
"Detective?"
June didn't look to the young patrol officer as he pushed open the door to her room and leaned in. "What."
"Um . . . someone to see you. She's on your 'pass' list."
June snapped her head up, eyes opening wide in hope. "Sophie?"
The patrolman retreated, leaving the door open for the pretty redhead as she entered the room. She held a bouquet of flowers.
June blubbered instantly, smiling and crying at the same time. "Sophie," she sputtered, holding her arms out. "Oh, God."
Sophie smiled as well, looking past the blemishes on her lover's face, the bruises and the wounds. She rushed to the bedside, dropping the flowers to the floor before embracing the woman she loved.
Both women trembled as they hugged, with June nearly convulsing in an epileptic fit. Sophie had to push herself back.
"Don't look at me," June declared, turning away.
But Sophie caught her lover's chin in her hand. "But I want to."
June winced. "No. Not yet."
Sophie was insistent. "I don't care what happened to you. I love you. No matter what."
Tears dribbled down June's face. "Even after what they did to me?"
"Yes. Even after that."
Slowly, June turned pained eyes upon those of the woman she loved more than herself. "I'm never gonna be the same," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.
Yet, Sophie could only smile, looking past the bruises, past the pain. "Maybe not. But you're always going to be my wife," she declared.
* * * *
"I strongly suggest you remain for at least another day," the doctor insisted as Riaz dressed himself.
The detective shook his head with a wry smile, hiding the pain that lanced through his back and shoulder every time he moved his left arm. "Can't do that," he said. "My daughter's graduating tonight. I'll be damned if I'm going to miss it."
The doctor sighed tiredly. "It's your call," he said. "Just remember, you have a fractured scapula and two bruised ribs. No exertion for the next few weeks. No smoking, no--"
"I don't smoke."
The physician held up his hands. "I'm just saying, take it easy. Sit down the moment you feel any light-headedness. It's going to take a while to heal."
Riaz nodded as he finished draping the jacket over his shoulders. He extended his hand to the doctor. "Believe me when I say I understand," he said. "I may be stubborn, but I'm not stupid. I'll take care of myself. I always have."
The doctor managed the thinnest of smiles as he shook the detective's hand. "Guess I just have to believe you on that."
Riaz let the man go, then returned to the task of collecting his personal things. He had hated every minute of the previous seventeen hours spent in a hospital bed in a hospital gown, barely able to sleep. The haunting memories of what had happened during that final confrontation with the Tolomeo twins plagued his thoughts, but not as much as the prospect of being denied the simple fatherly pleasure of watching his only daughter walk the stage at her graduation. In twenty-two years, he had never missed a single highlight of Kitna's life. He was not about to break that streak now.
"Riaz?"
He started, then tilted his head to glance back toward the owner of the voice. She stood behind him, several feet away, keeping her distance. He almost smiled at her presence, but her expression kept him emotionally guarded.
"I, uh . . . was gonna come see you sooner," Susan said awkwardly, brushing back a lock of dark hair. Her eyes were furtive, dancing all around as they avoided meeting Riaz's gaze. "I just, um . . . couldn't get off from work, and--"
He cut her off with a placating smile and gesture. "It's okay," he said, turning fully to face her.
The young brunette shifted on her feet. She smiled sheepishly. "It's not the same, now," she said.
Riaz nodded. "No, it's not."
"I mean," she continued. "It didn't really matter what you did. Before, I mean, when we were just fooling around."
You mean, when you were the other woman,
Riaz thought bitterly. "But now it does?"
Susan grimaced, looking uncomfortable. "We had some fun," she said. "I mean, you were really hot, and I got off on you being a cop and all that, but . . . I can't be a cop's girlfriend. I can't handle this kind of shit. It's too . . . too real, you know?"
"It's life," he responded gravely. "Sometimes it gets a little . . .
'real.'
"
"I-I know," she said, then huffed in frustration, unable to articulate what she wanted to say.
Riaz looked away tiredly. "Go home, Susan," he told her. "Just . . . go home, okay?"
She started to speak, but said nothing. Feeling embarrassed and out of place, the young woman turned and made her way across the rain-spattered grass. Riaz did not watch her go. He already knew he would have nothing more to do with the comely young brunette, with whom he had thrown away his fidelity, his life, his supposedly uncompromisable fatherhood. He was left alone, but that did not bring depression into his heart. There was a strange sort of somber gladness, now. He felt nothing but calm acceptance.
* * * *
The doughty, wide-faced woman stared at the pair of figures beneath sterile white sheets in the laboratory. Harsh lights from the ceiling reflected off her glasses as she assessed her options.
