Dr. Mercer waited until the door closed behind Graham.
“You have three fractured ribs on the left side,” he said. “One is displaced, and the CT shows bruising around the lung. You need to stay for observation.”
I stopped breathing for a second, not because of the pain, but because he had finally named what Graham kept trying to shrink.
Then the doctor pointed to the long pressure mark across my upper back.
“I cannot tell you who caused this,” he said carefully. “But your injuries and your account need to be documented exactly as you gave them.”
The nurse asked whether I wanted Graham kept outside.
I heard his shoes scrape in the hallway, then his low voice telling someone on the phone that I was “upset and confused.”
“Yes,” I said. “Keep him out.”
That was the first decision I made that night without looking at my husband for permission.
