Bruises

Ch.27-Live For Me

He pled not guilty.

Exactly one week it had been since the incident at my house. Enough time for the police to gather the evidence and figure out the case they thought was closed eight years ago might just need to open back up. The presumed murder weapon was found, once it was dislodged from Sam's stomach, of course. It was the first time anybody considered they had made a mistake in the arrest. That maybe they had just ignored what little tidbits of information didn't make sense in favor of hurriedly closing the case.

It was coming back to bite us all in the ass.

And at his arraignment, Henry Thompson still had the nerve to plead not guilty. At his pre-trial, he still had the nerve to play the innocent card. And that only meant one thing.

It meant I would need something nice to wear, because soon I would be back in that wretched courtroom, for the same exact cause. The only difference being it wouldn't be my father as the defendant.

It would be Henry.

The real murderer.

And that changed everything.

But I pushed that to the back of my mind, because it was the first time Sam was conscious for a suitable string of minutes at a time, and I wanted to see him. Craved to see him. I hadn't laid eyes on him in a week and I needed to know for myself that he was okay.

About six hours into the surgery, the doctors informed us Sam would make it. The knife miraculously missed any organs and the only problem was the amount of blood he had lost. It was a huge relief to me, and simply knowing my child wasn't losing her father had most of the tension leaving my body.

My father suggested I go back to my apartment, since Sam wouldn't be allowed visitors for a while. I did so, if only to rest my pregnant self. There weren't any more immediate threats, but I was still frightened. I called Annette and asked her to stay with me, and she and David did. For the entire week. I just wanted Sam to come home. It was Friday and the nurses had given me permission to stay the night. It only took serious determination and the hormonal pregnant woman card. All in all, though, it got the job done.

But it was only afternoon. That gave me plenty of time to spend with him, and that was exactly how I wanted it.

I stood outside his hospital room, not sure why I couldn't just open the door and walk in and see him. Was I scared? Nervous? There was no reason to be. I mean, save for the fact that he had proposed to me while he was bleeding out and I was wondering if his words still stood, given the fact he had lived, or did he regret saying them?

Great. Cue the nerves.

"You have to twist the doorknob to open it," a voice said amusedly from behind me. I turned and found a smiling Richard Harding, cup of coffee in his hand.

"Hi, Mr. Harding," I greeted, offering a small smile.

"Hello, Elsie. How are you faring?"

I licked my lips, shrugging slightly. "Better than Sam, I guess."

He took a sip of the Styrofoam cup as he neared me. "Ah, yes, well . . . I believe he's doing much better. But being stabbed will take a might out of you."

My stomach rolled. "Don't remind me."

He rocked back on his heels. I noticed he wasn't dressed in working attire, but in casual cargo shorts and a polo. "Can I ask you a question, Elsie?"

I nodded, welcoming the distraction. I felt horrible for wanting to prolong entering that room. I stepped to the side. "Sure."

"What . . . What exactly happened in there? In your home, a week ago?"