Chapter 2 - The Statement in the ER
The glaring fluorescent lights of the emergency room at Memorial Hospital hummed loudly, reflecting off the clean linoleum floor.
I sat on the edge of the examination bed, wrapped in a heavy navy-blue police blanket that smelled faintly of detergent and damp wool. Toby lay asleep in a clear plastic bassinet beside me, his chest rising and falling in rhythmic, tiny motions. His onesie had been replaced with a soft pink hospital shirt provided by the pediatric nurse.
A female officer, Officer Ramirez, stood near the curtained doorway, her notebook in hand, while a forensic photographer snapped photos of my injuries.
FLASH.
The bright light blinded me for a second, catching the deep purple bruising across my shoulder where Mark had slammed me into the doorframe.
FLASH.
Another photo of my split lip, followed by close-ups of the handprints on my upper arms and the dirt on my knees from where I had crawled across the hallway floor.
"Miss Chen," Officer Ramirez said gently, stepping closer. "The doctor is coming in to review your X-rays in a few minutes, but I need to clear up a few things regarding your husband's statement."
"My husband," I said, my voice hoarse, "dragged me out of the bathroom by my hair while I was half-naked."
"I understand," Ramirez replied, her voice remaining professional, though her eyes softened slightly. "However, Mr. Miller claims that you attacked him first during an episode of postpartum depression. His mother corroborated his story, stating that you picked up a wooden stool and struck him, causing severe bruising to his leg, and then shattered a porcelain lid on his knee."
I let out a bitter, lifeless laugh. "I hit him with the stool after he dragged me down the hallway. I hit him with the lid after he broke through the locked door to take my baby. I was defending my child."
"Did you take any medication today, Valerie?" Ramirez asked softly, looking down at her notepad. "Mr. Miller stated you refused your prescribed post-birth antibiotics and had been behaving erratically for forty-eight hours."
"I took my ibuprofen at 4:00 AM," I said, leaning forward, ignoring the burning pain in my shoulder. "Listen to me, Officer. Evelyn Miller—his mother—took my car keys before the fight even started. Why would she take my keys while I was using the restroom if this was a sudden outburst from me? Ask her that. Ask her where my keys were when the police arrived."
Officer Ramirez paused, her pen hovering over the paper. "Your keys were found in Mr. Miller's pocket."
"Because she gave them to him," I said, my voice dropping into a fierce whisper. "She took them off the kitchen counter while I was feeding Toby. They planned this. They wanted me to react so they could call CPS and take my baby."
The curtain pulled back, and Dr. Aris, a tired-looking emergency physician in green scrubs, walked into the room holding a digital tablet.
"Officer, I need to examine the patient now," Dr. Aris said firmly.
Ramirez nodded, stepping back toward the curtain. "We have Mark Miller in custody down the hall under preliminary domestic violence charges, but the Assistant District Attorney will be deciding on formal charges by morning. I'll be outside if you need anything, Miss Chen."
Once the officer was gone, Dr. Aris pulled a rolling stool over and sat down beside my bed. He looked at my shoulder, gently pressing his fingers against the collarbone. I winced, gritting my teeth against the sharp spike of pain.
"No fractures in the shoulder, but you have severe deep-tissue contusions," Dr. Aris said softly. "Your lip will need three stitches. But what concerns me most, Valerie, is your heart rate and your blood pressure. You're in severe physical shock."
"Where is my baby going?" I asked instantly, ignoring his medical evaluation. "They can't give him to Mark's mother, can they?"
Dr. Aris sighed, setting his tablet on the bedside table. "Child Protective Services was notified automatically due to the domestic violence dispatch involving an infant. A social worker named Sarah Vance is outside waiting to speak with you."
My stomach plummeted. "Sarah Vance? Is she related to Evelyn Miller?"
Dr. Aris frowned. "I don't know, Valerie. But she has an emergency court order to evaluate the home environment before Toby can be discharged."
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I looked over at Toby sleeping peacefully in his plastic tub. The white hospital wristband on his ankle matched mine. They were the only two things tethering us together in a system that was already grinding its gears to strip him from my arms.
"I need a lawyer," I said, my voice hardening like steel. "Now."
