Once she opened her eyes, she heard the sound of footsteps and sirens. One of her neighbours had obviously called the cops. She made an attempt to rise but was halted by Jasmine dropping down to hold her, placing Ava’s head against her chest, reassuring her over and over as the police read Adam his rights. Less than ten minutes later, Ava was taken to hospital by an ambulance, Jasmine riding with her.
“Where are the boys? I’ll call them,” Jasmine said, gripping her hand and leaning over her.
Ava remembered Chris and Ruben were due back any minute. They had gone shopping for the dinner party. A dinner party no one would be attending.
Covered in bandages around her mouth and throat, her jaw broken, she couldn’t speak once again. She shook her head as best as she could, squeezing Jasmine’s hand. It wasn’t that she wanted to keep it a secret, as if she could, but this would send the boys over the edge. She wanted to explain but the blackness of unconsciousness came too fast.
The steady sound of beeping the only thing she could hear, Ava awoke, yet again, in a strange hospital bed. Something was lodged in her throat, making it hard to take a breath. Still groggy from sedation she couldn't understand what it was, what was going on. She coughed and sputtered, instinctively reaching up to remove it.
“Babes... easy, easy!” Chris called, holding her hands away. “Just breathe! Just breathe. There you go. Don’t worry about a thing. I know the tube is uncomfortable, but it’s to help the air get in. Your throat swelled so much it almost closed. The doctor told us you probably wouldn’t need surgery—oh, babes—please don’t cry. You’re going to be alright, I swear.”
Then she felt soft, warm and loving hands stroking her face and head. Blinking to clear her vision, Ruben and Chris came into view. As always, by her side.
“You don't have to worry about that arsehole. We handed over the CCTV footage from the camera at our door to the cops. They saw everything,” Ruben said.
Ava gazed at Ruben’s bloodshot eyes and Chris’ pained, yet relieved. expression. She turned and found Jasmine who seemed to sense what she wanted to say.
“I didn’t even have time to call them. It’s all over the news, what happened. I'm surprised they didn't beat us to the hospital. And, well—”
Ava was confused at the pause and prompted her by raising both hands, palms facing up, as if to say “Well, What?”
“That’s not the only big story in the news...”
“Jasmine, we don’t need to be talking about this now,” Ruben said, his face tense.
“You’d rather she hear it from someone else?” Chris asked.
Ava snapped her fingers to get their attention. Whatever it was, she wanted to know.
It was Ruben who answered. “News broke a little while ago. Van Gould is going to trial on sexual misconduct charges. One of his current patients pressed charges, and others, current and former, have started to come forward now that they know they aren't alone.”
“We had to tell you but don’t worry. We just have to keep your name out of it,” Chris said.
Ava heard him, but it didn’t stop the tears that fell. She tried to tell them why she was crying. Her fear matched her agony. What the hell was she supposed to do now? She was so tired of hospitals and machines. Doctors and tests. Van Gould and the trauma that refused to go away.
She was sick of it. Sick of everything. Her entire body filled with rage, and she waved for everyone to leave. Dismissing them might have been harsh, but she just couldn’t have them making her feel worse, even without meaning to.
And what she felt, with the thick, ribbed breathing apparatus inserted in her throat, looking around at their worried faces before they respectfully left, was defeated. She longed for something to go right for her. She longed to look inside and find hope, but instead found only misery. She had nowhere to turn, nothing else to do but lie here and recover. Again.
26
Veronica staredat the ceiling of her training room, taking all of the thirty seconds she had set her phones stopwatch to. Circuit day was murder. Her phone buzzed and beeped, signalling the end of her heavenly respite. She moved her way to the heavy bag and began wrapping her hands.
She was no closer to finding an opponent for her next match. The women’s division was still in turmoil due to the suspensions. Lindsey Lorde was definitely on Veronica’s radar and even seemed keen for a match, but had pulled her hamstring two days previously. No training for at least six weeks.
As she readied herself to begin the next phase of her workout, she looked towards the display case across the room. It held the many awards and trophies she had accumulated over the years. Female fighter of the year awards. KO of the year. At the very top level was her most prized possession, the Undisputed Championship belt.
Her first sensei had told her to never fight for accolades. Belts and trophies meant nothing, as they fed the ego, not the soul. He would’ve been most disappointed had he seen this ‘food’ on show, but Veronica wouldn’t change a thing.
She was proud of what she had achieved. It was her life’s work. She used it as fuel when training. Glancing at what she had done, all she had accomplished, and it always reignited the fire within to keep going. Another forty presses. Another mile on the treadmill. Punch until you can’t punch anymore. Then punch again. Never stop. Never give up.
Her phone buzzed again, and chirped an alert which indicated a news article about MMA had been posted online. She liked to keep up to date with what was going on. If she got an alert, one of her keywords had been used in an article. But it could wait.
Forty-five minutes later, Veronica sat cross-legged in front of the bag and swiped her phone open, staring at the screen. She was wrong. Not one but two of her keywords had been posted and not just in the article, but the headline.
AVA BECKINSALE RE-HOSPITALISED
Veronica read the short piece and couldn’t believe it. The report didn’t say what had happened exactly, just that she was reported as having trouble breathing. Suddenly her phone tinged again and again. More articles were being posted, all with Ava’s name. Veronica put her phone down and lay back, flat. Thinking.