Before I could answer, my mother jumped in.
“She slipped,” Elaine said quickly. “At her birthday dinner. Total accident.”
The doctor paused.
His eyes moved from my mother… to me.
Then to the swelling already forming at the base of my skull.
“And you?” he asked quietly. “Is that how you remember it?”
I hesitated.
Across the room, Madison gave me a warning look.
The same look she’d given me our entire lives.
Don’t make trouble.
But something had shifted tonight.
The image of her smashing the cake into my face replayed in my head. The laughter. The way my parents had defended her before even checking if I was okay.
The doctor waited patiently.
Finally, I said softly, “She shoved a cake into my face.”
The room went silent.
The doctor’s expression didn’t change, but his voice did.
“Did she push you hard?”
“Yes.”
“Did you fall immediately afterward?”
“Yes.”
He nodded slowly and made a note on his tablet.
Then he stood.
“I’m going to order a CT scan,” he said.
My mother huffed. “Is that really necessary?”
The doctor looked directly at her.
“With head trauma and disorientation?” he said calmly. “Yes.”
Madison rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, “This is insane.”
But the doctor wasn’t finished.
He turned back to me.
“Claire,” he said gently, “if someone caused the fall that led to this injury, that’s important medical information.”
I nodded weakly.
He gave another small nod in return.
Then he stepped out into the hallway.
Ten minutes later, a nurse wheeled me toward imaging.
And as the doors to the ER corridor swung open, I heard the doctor’s voice at the front desk.
Quiet.
Professional.
Clear.
“Hi,” he said. “Yes. I’d like to report a potential assault connected to a head injury patient.”
Madison’s laugh from earlier echoed in my memory.
Lighten up. It’s your birthday.
But when the words potential assault drifted down the hallway…
Her “joke” suddenly didn’t sound funny anymore. 😶
