Her Silent Cry

Fifty-Five

Once inside, Josie slumped against her door. From the living room, she heard the television playing. Seconds later, Misty appeared in the doorway, dressed in an oversized T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, her blonde hair thrown up in a messy bun. “Josie? Oh my God, are you okay?”

Josie grimaced, holding her stomach. “Can you help me upstairs?”

Misty’s blue eyes widened as she came closer. “My God, you’re covered in blood. Should I call 911? Are you hurt? What’s going on?”

Josie could hear panic raising the octaves of Misty’s voice with each question. She waved her free hand in the air. “I’m fine. It’s okay. It’s not my blood.”

“Oh,” Misty snapped. “Well that makes me feel better. I’m calling 911.”

“No, really. I don’t need an ambulance. I’m fine. I… fell. I just need help getting up to the bathroom and getting cleaned up. Please.”

“Should I call Noah?” Misty asked, putting a tentative arm around Josie’s waist.

“No, please,” Josie said. “You can help me. Where’s Harris?”

Misty guided her up the stairs slowly. “He’s asleep in the spare room.”

“Okay, good,” Josie said.

Once inside the bathroom, Josie sat on the edge of her bathtub. She tugged at the hem of her shirt. “I got shot,” she told Misty.

“Oh my God! Josie, you said this wasn’t your blood! You need to get to the—”

“I had a vest on. The bullet didn’t go through.”

Misty put a hand on her chest. “Oh, thank God. What happened?”

“Help me get this shirt off, and I’ll tell you.”

As Misty helped her lift the shirt over her head, Josie gave her the abbreviated version of the day’s events. As she talked, Misty helped her take off her blood-splattered jeans. “I’m just going to throw these away,” Misty said. “Unless you want me to wash them.”

“No,” Josie said. “It’s fine.”

Misty wet a washcloth with hot water and handed it to Josie. She watched as Josie wiped her face and arms. “Josie,” Misty said. “This is not okay. Oh wow, look at your stomach.”

Josie looked down at her abdomen to see an angry red-purple bruise blooming across her skin. She placed a hand over it. Tears stung the backs of her eyes.

Misty said, “I think you should go to the hospital. Get checked out. What if you’ve got an internal injury?”

“There’s something I need you to do for me first,” Josie said. “Please.”

Misty listened as Josie explained what she wanted her to do. Then she put a hand on her hip and said, “Are you sure I shouldn’t call someone else? Your grandmother? Your sister? Your mom?”

“No, thank you,” Josie said. “Please. Just do this for me.”

Misty backed out of the bathroom. “All right. Let me get you a change of clothes first. You’ll be okay if Harris wakes up while I’m gone?”

Josie nodded. “Yes. Just please, hurry back.”