Chapter 2 - THE LEAD APRON
The emergency room doors slid open with a quiet mechanical hiss, bleeding the harsh fluorescent light of the hospital into the dark dampness of the parking lot. Garrett had transformed completely by the time they reached the triage desk. He was no longer the monster in the kitchen; he was the terrified, doting husband. He held Elena’s uninjured arm, his face pale and drawn, expertly playing the role of a man who had just witnessed a tragic accident.
Elena let him speak. She had no choice. Her wrist throbbed with a sickening, rhythmic pulse that synced perfectly with the frantic beating of her heart. When the intake nurse asked what happened, Garrett’s voice caught in his throat perfectly. She fell. The laundry. The stairs. I’m so worried about the baby.
They wheeled her into the back almost immediately, prioritizing the eight-month pregnancy over the overflowing waiting room. Garrett tried to follow her past the double doors, his hand tight on the back of her wheelchair, but the triage nurse finally put a hand to his chest. Sir, you need to wait here while we assess the fetus. For a fraction of a second, the mask slipped. Elena saw the dark, violent shadow pass over his eyes. He hated losing control. But he nodded, kissing her forehead with lips that felt like ice. I’ll be right here, sweetheart.
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In the radiology wing, the air was freezing. A young technician named Marcus wheeled her into the stark white room, his eyes kind and professional. He helped her onto the table, draped a heavy lead apron over her swollen belly to protect the baby, and gently positioned her mangled wrist under the massive machine. Then, he stepped into the glass-paneled booth to run her chart through the system before capturing the image.
Elena watched him through the glass. She saw Marcus type her name: Elena Hartford. She saw his eyes flick to the screen. Then, he froze. He didn't press the button to take the X-ray. He just stared at the monitor, his face draining of color. He typed something else. His jaw tightened. Without looking back at her, Marcus picked up the red landline phone on the wall of his booth—a phone Elena instinctively knew was not for calling other doctors. He spoke urgently into the receiver, his eyes darting toward the heavy wooden door of the X-ray room as if expecting Garrett to burst through it.
