— And they kicked me out.
The doctor shook his head, muttering something unintelligible under his breath. A look of disgust flashed in his eyes.
— Blood pressure 100 over 60, pulse 120, — the nurse reported.
— Not good, — the doctor stated. — Get her in the ambulance, urgently.
A police car pulled up behind the ambulance. Two officers in uniform got out. One, older, approached the doctor. The second, younger, walked over to Alisa.
— Hello, Senior Lieutenant Petrov. Did you call?
— I… — Alisa nodded.
— What happened?
Stammering, she began to tell her story. About the trip to the dacha, the pain, how her husband and mother-in-law refused to take her to the hospital and eventually abandoned her there.
— They left in your car? — the police officer clarified.
— Yes. The car is registered in my name.
— Do you have the documents with you?
— In my handbag.
The young lieutenant found the car documents in her bag and examined them.
— Understood. So, unlawful possession. Will you be filing a report?
— I will, — Alisa said firmly, remembering her brother’s words.
At that moment, they were placing her on a stretcher. The doctor gave her some kind of injection in her vein, and the pain began to gradually recede, replaced by a dull weakness.
— Dictate, I’ll write it down, — the police officer said, taking out a notepad.
Lying on the stretcher, on the way to the ambulance, Alisa dictated:
— I request that criminal charges be brought against my husband, Denis Igorevich Sokolov, and his mother, Zoya Pavlovna Sokolova, for leaving me in a knowingly life-threatening condition, as well as for the unlawful possession of my vehicle.
— Got it all down. — The lieutenant closed his notepad. — Get well soon. We will deal with your relatives. An alert for the car has already been sent to all posts. They won’t get far.
They carried her into the ambulance. The doors slammed shut. The vehicle, with its siren blaring, sped off. Alisa lay on the gurney, watching the trees fly by the window. The injection had taken effect, the pain had dulled, but in its place came a chilling realization of what had happened. They had left her to die. Her closest family. She closed her eyes. The face of Denis appeared in her mind’s eye—confused, pathetic, frightened. And the face of Zoya Pavlovna—evil, triumphant. “Die, you beggar.” She would never forgive them for this. Never.
At the hospital, they were already waiting for her. The emergency room, the hustle and bustle, quick questions, a gurney, corridors, the operating room… The last thing she remembered was the bright light of the lamp above her head and someone’s calm voice: “Don’t worry, you’re about to fall asleep.”
She woke up in a ward. It was dark outside. Misha was sitting on a chair next to her bed. He was dozing, his head dropped to his chest.
— Misha… — she called out. Her voice was hoarse and weak.
He immediately stirred and opened his eyes.
— Alis! How are you?
She tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace of pain. Her abdomen was pulling and aching.
— Did they operate on you?
— Just in time. The doctor said another hour or two, and it could have been peritonitis. The appendix ruptured.
— I see.
— I spoke with the doctor. You need rest. You’ll have to stay here for a couple of weeks.
— And them… — she asked.
Misha smirked. Grimly, without mirth.
— Oh, they were detained. Just as I predicted. A traffic police patrol stopped them on the approach to the dacha community. At first, they tried to act tough, shouting that it was their car. But when they were shown the alert for the stolen car and the documents in your name, they deflated.
— And now what?
— And now they’re at the station giving statements. I just came from there. It’s a real picture, Alis. Zoya Pavlovna is screeching that you set it all up to shame her. Denis is bleating something about how he didn’t want to, that his mother made him. A pathetic sight.
— Will they go to jail?
— For the “leaving in danger” charge—up to a year in prison. For the car theft—there’s a fine or also a sentence, depending on the circumstances. But I’ll do everything to make sure they get the maximum. I’ve already contacted the investigator, passed on all the materials. Your testimony, the hospital report. They don’t stand a chance.
Alisa was silent, processing what she had heard. A trial, prison. It all seemed like some bad dream.
— Did they call?
— They tried. I took your phone. There are 50 missed calls from Denis and 30 from his dear mother. I blocked their numbers. You don’t need to deal with them right now.
— Thank you, — she whispered.
— Don’t mention it. — He took her hand. — You just get better. I’ll take care of these monsters.
He sat with her a little longer, told her he had brought her necessary things, and arranged with the nurse to look after her. Then he left, promising to come back the next morning.
Alisa was left alone in the quiet ward. A dog was barking outside. Somewhere in the corridor, nurses were talking quietly. She lay there and thought about how her old life was over. Back there, on that dusty roadside. And now a new one was beginning. Unclear, frightening, but definitely different. Without Denis. Without Zoya Pavlovna. Without lies and betrayal. And for some reason, this thought didn’t scare her, but rather, it brought her peace.
The night passed, filled with pain, anxious dreams, and quiet crying into her pillow. Alisa woke up at every rustle in the corridor, thinking that the door would open and Denis, or worse, Zoya Pavlovna, would walk in. But the door didn’t open, and towards morning, exhausted, she finally fell into a heavy sleep…
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