57Susan wished they’d just let her go home. She kept telling the doctor and the nurses that she was fine. No, she hadn’t been sexually assaulted. And no, she couldn’t tell them what day it was.
She knew she looked awful. She had caught a glimpse of her reflection in the glass door when they brought her in. Susan hardly recognized the wild-eyed woman with medusa hair and mud caked clothes.
But what about all the bruises?
Yes, she knew they covered a good portion of her body. And yes, her knee hurt. But she was fine. She was out of that godforsaken forest. And no, she wasn’t crying because she was in pain. She was crying, because she was finally free.
Could she just please go home?
The doctor had left, and Susan was looking around for her clothes. Maybe she could leave. How hard could t
