”When they saw me,”** she continued, her breathing labored, **”he threw me down the stairs.”**

The beeping of the machines faded. The bustling hospital disappeared. All I could hear were those impossible words echoing in my skull.

“They’re still there, drinking whiskey in the kitchen. Daddy said to tell everyone I fell playing dress-up.”

Twenty years of military training hadn’t prepared me for this moment. But it sure as hell prepared me for what came next.

***

### The Lie

My name is Captain Victoria Hawthorne, though I left that title behind when I traded combat boots for a stethoscope. In our small Nebraska town, I’m “Doc Tori,” the vet who saves pets and never talks about her three tours in Afghanistan. They don’t know about the Bronze Star in my closet or the nightmares that still wake me at 3 a.m.