She could hear the piano when she held her breath. It was calm, soothing. She wanted to watch whomever it was playing it. It was hard to hear it clearly over the wet sound of her inhale or the grunting sound of her exhale. She had dreamed of the music, heard it while she was still on the ground on the living room floor. Now it filtered into the bedroom where she had to work to breathe.
Marshall was already gone for work, a new book for Eliza to read left on his pillow. Her eyes couldn't even focus on the title.
The tree—a vague shape outside her window. She could just barely make it out. There used to be a nest in that tree; was it still there? Was it still built on the scraps of plastic and fabric stolen from the street and park below? Was the egg still there or had it already hatched?
She woke up again when the light was shining in her face, a reflection off the buildings across the street. She usually kept the curtains closed for that very reason, in case this ever happened again. She rolled over slowly, first her knees and then her arms, followed by her hips and chest.
It hurt, God this hurt. She held her arm out in front of her, trying to make the pillow comfortable. Her arm was mottled and rippled with odd colors. Something in her told her something was broken, but she couldn't tell what, even now. She fell back asleep to escape the pain.
Marshall was there when she opened her eyes again. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, in the curve of her stomach and legs, his hand rubbing gently over her temple. She couldn't see his face clearly in the dying light but she could tell that it was kind. She smiled at him, placed her hand on top of his, and shut her eyes.
She dreamed of Francis. He was a friend she had met around the time that she started to date Marshall. Six months into their relationship Marshall suddenly started to question her friendship with him.
She dreamed of the day that Marshall snapped, that he locked her in a room inside her own apartment and left her there for hours. It was the second time, and when he came back he was wild and giddy. He smiled as he hurt her, as he told her where Francis was, what had happened to him. She didn't get a chance to warn him, not like she did Tesey. She should have known better.
She awoke knowing something was wrong. She was going to die if she stayed in that bed. She felt capsized by the pain, so bad that she couldn't tell where it came from. Everything hurt, everything burned. She might have puked had she eaten anything the day before. Instead, she rolled herself out of bed, landing painfully on the floor. River was suddenly in front of her, whimpering and licking Eliza's face and nuzzling her wet nose into Eliza's neck. She tried to smile but it just made River cry into her more.
"Help me," she said, voice rough and wispy. "Phone. Help me. River."
She didn't seem to understand but let Eliza wrap her arms around her neck and put her weight onto her back. She didn't know where her phone was or how she was going to call for help, but River could help her get down the stairs and she could figure it out from there.
River half dragged her slowly to the top of the stairs, every bump and pressure on Eliza's wounds eliciting gasps out of her. She squeezed her eyes shut at the top, vertigo shaking the walls and banister back and forth in front of her eyes. She buried her face into River's fur and groaned.
It took a while for the pain in her head to fade, but slowly she took her weight off of River. She rolled onto her stomach despite the pain and slowly shimmied her way down the steps. She tried to hold herself up so the edges of the steps wouldn't press into her stomach but she couldn't manage it for more than two steps. She fell, slipped another two steps, and laid there crying until she could move again.
River helped her to the door once she got to the bottom, but when Eliza reached up and turned the doorknob the door didn't budge.
Her tired, survival-ridden mind told her it was the bottom latch. In that moment she hated Marshall, hated how he had her groveling on the floor without him even here, locked away with her life slipping through her grasp.
She was losing consciousness again, and she wasn't sure she was going to wake up. She lost her grip on River and slid down solidly on the floor. River was pacing back and forth, scared enough for the both of them.
An idea sparked in her dulling mind. She tugged on River and had her sit in front of her. She had seen videos of people teaching their pups to howl but they hadn't taught River. She had never heard River howl and she didn't know if it was intrinsic or not. She opened her mouth and formed her lips into a circle and made it smaller. No sound came out. She tried again, with a whisper. River huffed.
Then she howled, quietly. Eliza nodded and ran her hand through her fur and did it again. River howled, a little louder, and it kept Eliza awake. She spurred her on and whistled despite her quivering cracked lips alongside her.
"Awoo, River, come on. Awoo. Awoo."
River pulled in a deep breath and let out a long and loud howl, definitely loud enough to be heard outside the door. She hoped that the old woman could hear through the walls or was tending to the garden outside.
"Keep going, River," Eliza said, shaking. She couldn't keep her eyes open, couldn't focus her eyes. She made one more howling sound before she felt herself fading back into sleep, River full-on barking now. At least she wasn't alone even if she couldn't hear anything at all.
Her senses came to her slowly. First the sound of scuffing shoes, slow breathing, machines settling into their nuts and bolts. Then there was the smell: a thin veil of disinfectant no longer how long she focused to find something else. When she opened her eyes she had to blink the gummy remains of forced sleep away. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again, rocking her head side to side until she could make sense of her surroundings.
Marshall sat in the seat next to the bed, dozing into his hand. His fingers were intertwined with hers, a barely-there pressure that both soothed and scared her. He looked red in the face like he did when he caught a cold or when he slapped his cheeks to stay awake. She tried to imagine him doing that to settle the fear rising in her gut, the fear exciting that beeping thing behind her.
He woke up when she pulled her fingers away from him, bleary-eyed. He adjusted his seat and tried to wipe the sleep from his face before he noticed her up and staring at him. A smile broke out over his face and he stood up suddenly, wrapping his arms around her busted shoulders.
A strangled sound came out of her mouth and he flinched back, an apologetic look Eliza hadn't seen in a long time took on his features. "Sorry," he said, voice gruff. "Sorry, I just..." He shook her head and instead took her hand in his and bowed his head to it. "Oh, Eliza."
She swallowed hard and looked around. It was a fairly small hospital room, but outside the window into the hallway, she could see her neighbor talking to what looked like a businessman. Marshall pulled her attention back then by kissing her knuckles and brushing them against the scruff on his cheek.
"I'm really sorry," Marshall said. "I didn't know. I wouldn't have, if I'd known..." He sounded like he was on the verge of tears, but he kept his eyes closed so Eliza wasn't sure. "I love you, Elly. I mean it. I'm so sorry."
She felt bad for him. Maybe he didn't mean to hurt her as bad as he did.
He wiped his eyes and stood up, leaning over her slowly to wrap his arms around her again. She let him and melted into his embrace once she felt how warm he was. It was weird: a part of her told her this was wrong, that he had gone too far and that being anywhere near him was wrong. Another part just said what Marshall always said: she would never find anyone else would deal with her problems, her issues, her mistakes. She was lucky Marshall did at all, even if his love hurt sometimes.
While his face was pressed into her neck she heard him say, "There are detectives here to talk to you."
It took a moment for the words to sink in but when they did she felt herself begin to shake. Marshall pulled back and rubbed his thumbs in circles over her sore shoulders. "Hey, it's okay," he said. "They just want to ask some questions. And you'll tell them that this was from a lot of stuff. From when you were mugged at the park and when you fell down the stairs." He leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. "That's what happened."
She nodded. She didn't trust her voice to come out steady, or at all. She had the feeling that there used to be tubes stuffed down her throat and it felt sore.
A man in a white coat came in with a steady look at Marshall and a smile towards Eliza. "Ah," the doctor said, "It's good that you're awake. You gave us quite a scare there."
She bowed her head and mouthed that she was sorry. Marshall took her hand and squeezed gently. She realized her hands had been loosely wrapped in ace bandages that climbed up her arms.
"How are you doing?"
She cleared her throat and tried to smile. "Sore."
"I bet. Your injuries were severe. How's the pain?" He pulled a small light out of his shirt pocket and shined it in her eyes.
Eliza flinched back from the light and scowled at him. "It's fine," she said. Truth was she was in pain and felt like she was going to go back to sleep at any moment.
"Between one and ten?"
"Five point five?"
He nodded like it was acceptable to be in pain at all and wrote something down in her chart. "There's a detective here to speak with you. Are you okay to talk to him?"
Eliza shared a look with Marshall before she nodded. Might as well get it out of the way.