Absolute Power (Southern Justice #1 by Cayce Poponea Page A

placed them on the counter beside me when she was done. It was when she motioned for me to give her my hands that the odd feeling in my chest returned. When she physically touched me, something bizarre happened. My chest changed from the burning, bubbling sensation to complete calm. My entire body felt so relaxed, as if everything was going to be okay, unlike the mess, which was on his way to the station.
    “I wanted to thank you,” she spoke; her voice pleasant, and I found I liked the sound of it.
    “What for?”
    “Helping Kitty.” She shrugged. “She was the nurse you moved away from the prisoner.”
    I noticed she didn’t show him respect by referring to him by his name. She called him exactly what he really was.
    “Yeah, well. The world would be a better place with a few less guys like that walking the planet.”
    She nodded her head, but said nothing further. She cleaned my wounds with compassion and reverence, her eyes remaining on her task. I wondered if she did this with every patient, taking time to show a little humanity.
    “There, all done.” She removed her gloves and stepped away.
    “Thank you,” I told her, staring at my hands, now free from blood and dirt. “I guess I’ll see you around?”
    She nodded her head, a thin smile on her face as she left the room.

“You gain strength, courage, and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face. You are able to say to yourself, ‘I have lived through this horror. I can take the next thing that comes along.’
    ~Eleanor Roosevelt
    M y last semester in college, I was asked to take part in a study group which dealt with various forms of domestic violence. One of the directors pulled me to the side after class one afternoon, telling me she could see a desire in me to make a difference. She handed me a certification application. With this additional class and an online exam I would need to complete, I’d be able to perform exams on possible rape victims. This was exactly what I needed. I couldn’t help Cheyenne, but maybe, just maybe, I could help someone else who crossed my path.
    When I applied to work at University, it was the one certification I had above the other applicants. Having that piece of paper in my file didn’t help with the anguish I felt every time a victim came into the ER, or the memories of finding my sister that would resurface each and every time. It didn’t help while I collected evidence, which could get tossed out of a trial by some slick attorney who colored his words just right to save his scumbag client of charges. What that certification did do for me was get me into a position where I could provide understanding, comfort, and care for the victims. Those victims, and helping them immediately after suffering their trauma, seemed to make a huge difference.
    “Lainie, my name is Claire Stuart and I’m going to help you by checking you out and making sure you don’t have any injuries we need to fix.”
    Rule number one: You never approached someone who had just been violated in such a sadistic manner, with anything except caution and assurance. You couldn’t make the act of violence they suffered go away, but you could hold their hand as they progressed through it.
    Lainie was shaking like a leaf and I wished like hell I had some of Daddy’s moonshine to take the edge off for her.
    “He didn’t touch me there. The cop pulled him away before he could.” She never looked at me as she spoke, instead twisting her fingers around the pale green hospital gown, which pooled around her tiny body.
    “Would you be okay if I checked you anyway? I promise it will be quick, and I will take great care of you.”
    Nodding her head, she scooted herself back on the table, the paper crinkling with her movement. No bruises or scrapes were present on her lower extremities. All of her injuries seemed to be contained to her face and upper arms. Bruises, which would fade slowly over the next few days and