“I want to check your vaginal walls. I know you’re bleeding and normally I would wait, but I want to make sure nothing has been damaged. I did an image test while doing the ultrasound so I know there’s no internal damage, which is a good sign.”
After putting gloves on, she gently pushes my legs apart and begins to check me out. My vagina is extremely sore and I feel myself wincing at her touch. I had assumed the bleeding was from the rough sex I experienced a few days ago—it didn’t start until after Weston and his friends left me in the basement.
“Okay, everything seems normal. I didn’t feel any tears. I’ll check you again once you’re done bleeding.” She takes the gloves off and throws them away. She’s gone for a few minutes, during which time I hear the sink turn on. She must be washing her hands. Knowing we’re about done and she’s about to leave me, my hands begin to shake, my heartbeat going erratic. I feel another anxiety attack coming on. Dr. Fox walks back inside the room and starts putting her equipment into her suitcases.
“Dr. Fox, I know you’re prescribing a low dose of Xanax, but do you think maybe you can give me a little more?” My voice wavers as my heartbeat picks up speed.
She comes over next to me and, taking both my hands in hers, smiles softly. “You’ve been given drugs for quite some time, sweetie. You don’t want to be dependent on them. I am going to recommend you begin to see a psychiatrist as soon as possible. She can be someone for you to talk to, to work through what you’ve been through, and she can also put you on the appropriate medications and doses. I’ll let Mr. Valentino know of a couple I recommend. Ones who specialize in what you’ve been through.”
“Okay, but my heart hurts right now.” I try to grip my chest. I’m working myself up, but I can’t stop it once it starts. Everything that’s happened these last several months is weighing down on me. It’s like I’m drowning and can’t come up for air. With each breath I try to take, another weight is added, sinking me further down, suffocating me. I sit up, starting to freak out, beginning to hyperventilate, needing to take a breath. My hands clutch my chest, but it’s no use. The weights are too heavy. I can’t push them off. I can’t come up for air.
Dr. Fox’s soothing voice breaks through. “Breathe slowly, Aria. Copy me.” She takes a deep breath in, then lets it out, and I follow her lead, focusing on her breathing. We do this for a few minutes, slowly taking deep breaths in, then just as slowly breathing out, until my body begins to calm down, each weight being removed one by one, the heaviness slowly leaving my chest, allowing me to finally come up for air and take a much needed, calming breath.
“Good, there you go.” I continue to breathe slowly, copying her motions. Once my heart has slowed back to its normal pace, she opens a pill bottle. “You see. You calmed yourself down without taking a pill. We’re going to get you on the right dose, but until then, take one of these to help you get some rest.”
Giovanni walks over to Dr. Fox and begins to pick up the equipment, moving it to the side. “Just leave that machine here, so I can check her in a few days,” she instructs him. Then turning to me, she says, “Aria, if you need anything at all, you call me, okay?” She hands me her card.
“Thank you.” I lean over and give her a hug.
Giovanni and her both leave, closing the door behind them. Snuggling up into the sheets, my body starts to feel numb. It must be the pill she gave me to help me sleep. For the first time in a long time, I fall asleep without the fear of what I might wake up to.
Chapter Nine
GIOVANNI
Aria has been sleeping on and off the last few days. The sleeping pills, anti-anxiety meds, and painkillers Vivian left for her have helped tremendously to get her through the miscarriage and bruised ribs. I’ve been sleeping in the chaise lounge in the corner of the room because I couldn’t bring myself leave her. I’m almost positive my neck has a permanent kink in it, but leaving her to sleep somewhere more comfortable wasn’t an option. When Vivian informed Aria that she had miscarried, my heart broke for her. She can’t be more than twenty-one, maybe twenty-two years old, but she has experienced more loss than any young woman should ever have to. Loss of her mom. Loss of her life when she was taken. Loss of her baby. Shit, probably loss of her sanity. I placed a call to a psychiatrist who is willing to make house calls and have her scheduled to come out next week.