The Tenth Night
Rae Edison
Night had well and truly fallen upon Holly Grove. The gaps between the blind slats gave way to a whole new world where bats lurked amongst the trees and killers freely walked the streets, basking in the reflective glow of the moonlight that streamed through the thick canopy of leaves. The stars speckled the dark sky, shedding little light from their perches way up amongst the atmosphere. Rae Edison admired them for a second, pulling a stray strand of hair from her face before twisting the blinds closed and turning to face her last patient of the night.
“Rory Lawson?”
The young girl nodded, holding tight onto her father’s hand as she surveyed the doctor with wary eyes. Her vitals chart said she was five years old, but her face held more wisdom than most of the grown adults that Rae had encountered in her years of being a paediatrician. Rae knew that look and she let her gaze fall on the man standing beside Rory, surveying him for a second over the lenses of her glasses. He shifted uncomfortably, looking towards his daughter expectantly.
“That’s a nasty bruise you got there, honey,” Rae said softly, gently easing the young girl’s jacket off to reveal more of the purple haze that spread from her collarbone to her shoulder, “how did it happen?”
Rory looked at her father, who nodded quietly, lips pursed and eyes trained firmly on his daughter. The passive-aggressive approach of the man seemed to make Rory shrink into herself even more than she had been already.
“I fell off of my bike,” she murmured timidly, keeping her gaze lowered towards her shoes, “I was pedalling too fast.”
Rae stood up to her full height – a measly five-foot-three-inches, a trait inherited from her tiny mother – and placed a hand loosely on her hip. Changing her line of vision from father to daughter and then back to father again, she sighed and shook her head. She bit her inner lip for a moment, seemingly deep in thought. The bruises sustained by the tiny girl weren’t even remotely close to the injuries that would occur when falling off of a simple pushbike. In fact, Rae was convinced she could see small knuckle-shaped indents in the bruising itself. Child abuse wasn’t exactly a common issue, but she knew the signs. She had reported enough cases in her career only to see the same child come back with more injuries or worse; not at all. As a paediatrician, Rae was bound by law to report any instances where she believed child abuse was occurring. Nine times out of ten, she watched the cases being debunked.
“You need to be more careful when you’re on your bike then,” Rae said finally, forcing a smile onto her face. Sliding her fingers gently along the skin, she heard a slight wince as she reached the collarbone. Straightening up once more, Rae turned to the father, who seemed agitated. His behaviour was classic; he was terrified of being found out.
“Her collarbone is most likely broken, Mr Lawson. I can’t do much for her, your best course of action would be to take her to the local emergency department. They will need to do an x-ray to confirm the diagnosis, but she’ll likely be in plaster for a small while,” she said, looking him directly in the eye. His irises seemed wide and distracted, his eyeballs desperately seeking anywhere to look but the doctor’s face. He cleared his throat loudly. Rory jumped, gingerly pulling her jacket back over her shoulder with her free arm.
“Very well. Thank you, Doctor,” Mr Lawson said gruffly, still averting his gaze from the brunette, “C’mon Squirt, let’s go.”
Rae nodded, waiting until the pair had exited the room before she sat at her desk. Placing her head in her hands, she groaned loudly. She would have to write up an official report stating her concerns over the family, but she doubted anything would become of it. Her view of the justice system was warped and twisted after years of watching it fail the children she tried to nurse back to health. The paperwork was only a legal requirement now. Something else decided the fate of the men and women that subjected their children to the horrifying injuries that Rae had to fix.
Amongst the scattered piles of paper on the desk, one singular list of names caught Rae’s eyes. The paper was slightly dog-eared and the different colours of ink were already beginning to fade, even though the paper was just under a year old. However, the names – scrawled in Rae’s familiar looped handwriting – were still fully legible. It was unassuming and completely harmless to any other set of eyes, but for the doctor, this was one of her most guarded possessions.
Picking up a spare pen from the organised mess, Rae added another name to the list. Pulling her jacket from the back of her chair, she stuffed the page into her pocket. It crackled in protest, catching on the edge of the button and tearing slightly. Rae lifted her keys loudly from the desk, throwing them into the same pocket. It wouldn’t matter how tattered the list was. She could remember every single name on it and besides, she would only need one.
After all, there were only so many people that could meet their rightful maker.
“Rory Lawson?”
The young girl nodded, holding tight onto her father’s hand as she surveyed the doctor with wary eyes. Her vitals chart said she was five years old, but her face held more wisdom than most of the grown adults that Rae had encountered in her years of being a paediatrician. Rae knew that look and she let her gaze fall on the man standing beside Rory, surveying him for a second over the lenses of her glasses. He shifted uncomfortably, looking towards his daughter expectantly.
“That’s a nasty bruise you got there, honey,” Rae said softly, gently easing the young girl’s jacket off to reveal more of the purple haze that spread from her collarbone to her shoulder, “how did it happen?”
Rory looked at her father, who nodded quietly, lips pursed and eyes trained firmly on his daughter. The passive-aggressive approach of the man seemed to make Rory shrink into herself even more than she had been already.
“I fell off of my bike,” she murmured timidly, keeping her gaze lowered towards her shoes, “I was pedalling too fast.”
Rae stood up to her full height – a measly five-foot-three-inches, a trait inherited from her tiny mother – and placed a hand loosely on her hip. Changing her line of vision from father to daughter and then back to father again, she sighed and shook her head. She bit her inner lip for a moment, seemingly deep in thought. The bruises sustained by the tiny girl weren’t even remotely close to the injuries that would occur when falling off of a simple pushbike. In fact, Rae was convinced she could see small knuckle-shaped indents in the bruising itself. Child abuse wasn’t exactly a common issue, but she knew the signs. She had reported enough cases in her career only to see the same child come back with more injuries or worse; not at all. As a paediatrician, Rae was bound by law to report any instances where she believed child abuse was occurring. Nine times out of ten, she watched the cases being debunked.
“You need to be more careful when you’re on your bike then,” Rae said finally, forcing a smile onto her face. Sliding her fingers gently along the skin, she heard a slight wince as she reached the collarbone. Straightening up once more, Rae turned to the father, who seemed agitated. His behaviour was classic; he was terrified of being found out.
“Her collarbone is most likely broken, Mr Lawson. I can’t do much for her, your best course of action would be to take her to the local emergency department. They will need to do an x-ray to confirm the diagnosis, but she’ll likely be in plaster for a small while,” she said, looking him directly in the eye. His irises seemed wide and distracted, his eyeballs desperately seeking anywhere to look but the doctor’s face. He cleared his throat loudly. Rory jumped, gingerly pulling her jacket back over her shoulder with her free arm.
“Very well. Thank you, Doctor,” Mr Lawson said gruffly, still averting his gaze from the brunette, “C’mon Squirt, let’s go.”
Rae nodded, waiting until the pair had exited the room before she sat at her desk. Placing her head in her hands, she groaned loudly. She would have to write up an official report stating her concerns over the family, but she doubted anything would become of it. Her view of the justice system was warped and twisted after years of watching it fail the children she tried to nurse back to health. The paperwork was only a legal requirement now. Something else decided the fate of the men and women that subjected their children to the horrifying injuries that Rae had to fix.
Amongst the scattered piles of paper on the desk, one singular list of names caught Rae’s eyes. The paper was slightly dog-eared and the different colours of ink were already beginning to fade, even though the paper was just under a year old. However, the names – scrawled in Rae’s familiar looped handwriting – were still fully legible. It was unassuming and completely harmless to any other set of eyes, but for the doctor, this was one of her most guarded possessions.
Picking up a spare pen from the organised mess, Rae added another name to the list. Pulling her jacket from the back of her chair, she stuffed the page into her pocket. It crackled in protest, catching on the edge of the button and tearing slightly. Rae lifted her keys loudly from the desk, throwing them into the same pocket. It wouldn’t matter how tattered the list was. She could remember every single name on it and besides, she would only need one.
After all, there were only so many people that could meet their rightful maker.