Chapter 3

Marcus''s POV

I didn''t want to leave Elena''s side, but Dr. Peterson needed to speak with my parents privately. Elena''s eyes followed me as I walked toward the door, and I could see the panic starting to build.

"I''ll be right back," I promised her. "Five minutes, okay?"

She nodded but her grip on the notepad got tighter.

In the hallway, Dr. Peterson''s expression was grim. "The X-rays show multiple old fractures that were never properly set. Broken ribs, a fractured wrist, her left ankle was broken at some point and healed wrong. This child has been systematically abused for years."

My mom covered her mouth with her hand. "Dear god."

"There''s more," the doctor continued. "She''s severely malnourished. Her weight is dangerously low for her age and height. And there are signs that suggest..." He paused, looking uncomfortable. "That suggest sexual abuse as well."

My dad''s hands clenched into fists. "How long?"

"Based on the scarring and the pattern of injuries, I''d say she''s been suffering abuse for at least four or five years. Maybe longer."

Four or five years. Elena was seventeen now, which meant this had been going on since she was just a kid. Twelve or thirteen years old.

I felt sick.

"What happens now?" my mom asked.

"Detective Morrison has requested a DNA test to see if we can identify her and locate any other family members. Elena wrote down that she doesn''t want us to contact her guardians, and given her injuries, I''m inclined to agree."

"DNA test?" I asked. "What if she doesn''t have any other family?"

"Then she''ll go into the foster system while we figure out her situation," Dr. Peterson explained.

"No," I said immediately. "She''s been hurt enough. She doesn''t need to be bounced around between strangers right now."

My parents exchanged a look. They were thinking the same thing I was.

"Is there any way she could stay with us temporarily?" my mom asked. "Just until her family is located?"

Dr. Peterson considered this. "It''s unusual, but given the circumstances and the fact that she clearly trusts you already... I could speak with Detective Morrison about it."

Relief flooded through me. Elena needed stability right now, not more uncertainty.

When we got back to her room, Elena was talking with a nurse. Not talking exactly, but writing back and forth on the notepad. The nurse looked frustrated.

"What''s wrong?" my mom asked.

"She''s refusing to eat," the nurse explained. "Won''t touch any of the food we''ve brought her. She keeps writing that she''s not hungry, but she clearly needs nutrition."

I looked at Elena. She was staring down at her hands, looking ashamed.

"Elena," I said gently, sitting down in the chair next to her bed. "Are you afraid the food is poisoned or something?"

She shook her head quickly and wrote: "Not allowed to eat without permission."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Someone had trained her not to eat unless she was told she could. What kind of monster does that to a child?

"Elena, look at me," my mom said, moving to the other side of the bed. "You have permission to eat. You can eat whenever you want, whatever you want. Nobody is going to punish you for being hungry."

Elena looked up at her with tears in her eyes. She wrote: "Promise?"

"I promise," my mom said firmly. "Marcus, can you go get her something from the cafeteria? Maybe a sandwich and some fruit?"

I was back in ten minutes with a tray full of food. Elena stared at it like she''d never seen anything so wonderful. She ate slowly at first, like she was waiting for someone to take it away. But when nobody did, she ate everything on the tray.

"Better?" I asked.

She nodded and wrote: "Thank you" again.

Detective Morrison came back that afternoon with papers for the DNA test. Elena looked scared when she saw the detective, but she let them take a cheek swab without any fuss.

"How long before we get results?" my dad asked.

"Usually 24 to 48 hours," Detective Morrison replied. "But I''ve put a rush on this case. We should know something by tomorrow morning."

After the detective left, Elena wrote something on her notepad and showed it to me: "What if my family doesn''t want me?"

My heart broke a little more. "Elena, any family would be lucky to have you. And if for some reason they don''t want you, then they don''t deserve you."

She wrote: "What if they''re like him?"

Him. Viktor, probably. The man she''d been running from.

"Then we''ll figure something else out," I said. "I''m not going to let anyone hurt you again. I meant that."

Elena studied my face for a long moment, like she was trying to decide whether to trust me. Finally, she wrote: "Okay."

It was just one word, but it felt like progress.

That evening, Dr. Peterson came to check on Elena''s injuries. The infection in her leg was responding well to antibiotics, and most of her other wounds were starting to heal. But she was still too weak to leave the hospital.

"I''d like to keep her for observation for at least another day or two," he told my parents. "Make sure she''s stable before we make any decisions about placement."

"We''ll stay with her," my mom said immediately. "She shouldn''t be alone."

Elena heard this and wrote: "You don''t have to stay. I''m used to being alone."

The casual way she wrote it, like being alone was just a normal part of life, made me want to find Viktor and hurt him the way he''d hurt her.

"Nobody should have to be used to being alone," I said. "Especially not you."

That night, Elena had nightmares. She woke up screaming without making any sound, her whole body shaking and covered in sweat. I was by her side in seconds.

"It''s okay," I whispered, not knowing if I should touch her or give her space. "You''re safe. You''re in the hospital. Nobody can hurt you here."

She grabbed my hand and held on tight, her eyes wild with terror. I squeezed back, letting her know I wasn''t going anywhere.

"Bad dream?" I asked when she calmed down enough to write.

She nodded and wrote: "He found me. Took me back."

"That was just a dream," I said firmly. "Viktor can''t take you back. The police are looking for him now. And even if they weren''t, I wouldn''t let him anywhere near you."

Elena looked at me with surprise. "How do you know his name?"

I realized she''d never actually told us who had hurt her. "You wrote it earlier," I lied smoothly. "When you were half asleep."

She accepted this and wrote: "He always finds me when I run."

"Not this time," I promised. "This time you have people who care about what happens to you."

She fell asleep holding my hand, and I sat there all night making sure she felt safe.

Tomorrow we''d find out about her family. Tomorrow we''d start figuring out what came next.

But tonight, Elena was safe. That was all that mattered.