Trapped

by Shay Savage

  “I know, baby,” Tria said. I felt her fingers tighten on my right hand. “Wade got him. They're loading him into the other ambulance.”

  Tria’s other hand skimmed the side of my face. I managed to focus on her just enough to see the tears in her eyes. I wanted to reach up and wipe them away, but I couldn’t move my arm. There was something holding me down.

  Another face flashed in my head—the guy at the edge of the cage.

  “There was another dude,” I tried to say, but words weren't coming out again. I could taste blood in my mouth.

  I was never one to pass out, but suddenly everything went dark.

  Chapter 15—Heal the Body

  I was roused from a bizarre dream about placing fruit in geometric patterns all over Tria's naked body. Though I was awake, I couldn’t open my eyes. I could hear voices around me, but the sounds were muted. The only thing that made me feel at all connected to what was happening around me were the small, soft fingers running continuously up and down my forearm.

  “Are you sure?”

  “It can take time.”

  “But how long?”

  “Everyone is different.”

  My hand was itchy. There was also an itchy spot just above where the soft fingers ended their continuous journey on my skin. Just under my nose definitely had an itch. I wanted to scratch at them all, but my limbs weren’t responding any more than my eyelids.

  More murmured voices filled my head, but they were too mixed up to make any sense to me. I tried to tune them out along with the rest of the world, but they kept coming back. My throat was dry, and the tickling on my hand, arm, and nose was driving me nuts. At least the voices I was hearing cleared up.

  “…so, if you wanted to just maybe open your eyes or squeeze my hand or something, I’d kind of appreciate it.”

  Tria.

  I tried to swallow, but nothing happened.

  “No change?” It was Yolanda’s voice.

  “Well, they stopped arguing with me about being in the room, at least,” Tria replied. “That’s a change.”

  “Oh yeah, how did you manage that?”

  “I, um…” Tria’s voice trailed off. “I called someone who had a little more authority.”

  “Ah shit,” Yolanda said. “That isn’t going to go over well.”

  “It was necessary,” Tria replied. “I don’t want him to wake up alone.”

  I felt fingers trailing slowly back and forth over my knuckles before wrapping around my hand and squeezing gently. I wanted to turn my hand and grab hold of the fingers, but my body wouldn’t comply.

  “Are they going to show up?” Yolanda asked.

  I tightened my fingers a little on Tria’s hand.

  “Liam? Can you hear me?” Tria said quickly.

  I felt my arm rise as she wrapped both her hands around it. My throat clenched, but I still couldn’t swallow, so I tried blinking instead. Everything was blurry and really, really bright. The pounding in the back of my head increased.

  “Squeeze my hand again?”

  I ran my thumb over the edge of her hand and tried to focus on her eyes.

  “He’s still doped up,” Yolanda said. “That could work in your favor if one of them shows up.”

  “Hush!” Tria hissed. “Liam? Can you talk to me?”

  “Who…?” I breathed but couldn’t make much more of a sound. Yolanda was suddenly in my view, sticking a little paper straw in my mouth and ordering me to drink. The water helped, and I managed to get out the entire question. “Who’s showing up?”

  The two of them glanced at each other, but neither seemed inclined to speak. That’s when a guy in a white coat walked in, smiled at both of the girls, and then took my wrist from Tria and counted heartbeats or something.

  “Who the fuck are you?” I mumbled. It hurt my throat to talk so much, but Yolanda was right there with the water again.

  “I the fuck am Doctor Baynor,” he replied without hesitation. “You the fuck are my patient. Now hang on a second while I take your vitals and check out my sewing.”

  “Sewing?”

  “You were stabbed, hotshot,” Yolanda said, reminding me. “It’s gonna scar.”

  “Ah, fuck!” I tried to turn to see it, but the pain that ran up my side when I moved just about knocked me out again. I groaned. “How bad a scar?”

  “You might want to be still,” Dr. Baynor stated. “I’ll get you set up with a morphine drip to help you sleep.”

  “No morphine,” Yolanda said. “Ex-junkie.”

  “Ah, well—something a little more tame then, hmm?”

  “Fuck you,” I growled at Yolanda.

  Tria giggled a little.

  “What’s funny?” I asked.

  “Nothing at all,” she replied as she took my hand back from the doctor. “It’s just good to hear the f-bombs flowing. It tells me you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine,” I said as I forced myself to swallow a couple of times. I reached up to scratch my nose and found one of those oxygen things taped to me. No wonder I was itching. The IV drip and some little needle thing were also shoved in my arm and hand. “Just get me checked out so we can go home.”

  “Not just yet,” Dr. Baynor said. “Major surgery is not outpatient. I’m going to want to keep an eye on you for a day or so.”

  “Nah, that’s all right,” I replied. “Just give me a list of dos and don’ts, and I’ll be fine.”

  “I repaired a hole in your stomach a few hours ago,” the doctor said. “You’re staying until I say you can go.”

  “Look, Doc,” I said as I tried to get myself a little more upright. Both Yolanda and Tria placed hands on my shoulders to keep me from going anywhere. “Two things: One, I’m a shitty patient you don’t want in your hospital. Two, you guys like to get paid. I don’t have insurance or money, so let’s not kid ourselves.”

  The doctor glanced from me to Tria.

  “All the costs are covered,” he said. “You are Liam Teague, correct? Or did I sew up the wrong guy?”

  A shiver went down my body. I looked up at Tria, and I didn’t like the expression on her face at all.

  “I had to call them,” she said quietly.

  I pulled my hand away from her.

  “Either way,” Dr. Baynor continued as I glared at my girlfriend, “this wasn’t exactly elective surgery. With or without the means to pay up, you’d be staying.”

  I ignored him and looked pointedly at Tria.

  “They wouldn’t let me in the room,” Tria explained. “They said roommates and girlfriends didn’t count, and the only people allowed in were family. I had to call someone.”

  “Who did you talk to?”

  “Michael,” she said. “His phone number was the only one I had. He called your father.”

  “Fuck a duck,” I muttered. I looked away from her and tried not to let the word traitor spend too much time in my head. Michael would have told others, no doubt. I wanted to argue about staying but was feeling weak enough that I knew I wasn’t going to win the battle. I looked up at Yolanda.

  “He stabbed me,” I said. “That fucker got a knife from the guy outside the cage.”

  “Outside?” Yolanda repeated. “What do you mean?”

  “One of his cronies,” I told her. “I met him in Beals, but I don’t remember who it was.”

  “Devin was there,” Tria said. “I saw him when Keith first came in.”

  She turned to Yolanda.

  “You didn’t miss anything—Devin had it.”

  Yolanda looked down at the ground and scowled. I realized she must have been blaming herself for not checking him closely enough.

  “He went up to the other dude,” I told her. “He reached outside the cage—I saw it. That had to have been when he got the knife. Where is the fucker now?”

  “In this hospital,” Tria said, “but he has two police officers outside his room. He’s actually in worse shape than you are. I haven’t seen Devin, though.”

  “What was
he doing there?” I asked Tria. “Did you bring him?”

  “Of course not,” Tria said with a bit of a growl. “I do wonder if he followed me, though. Maybe it was just a coincidence.”

  “Why were you there? You never come to watch me fight.”

  “You left your cigarettes,” she said. “I saw the pack on the nightstand, and you were saying it was your last one earlier. I knew you were running late and wouldn’t have time to buy more. I thought I’d bring them to you.”

  “You walked there on your own, didn’t you?” I already knew the answer and would have been livid if I had the strength. “Just to bring me fucking cigarettes?”

  “It was still light out,” she said with a shrug.

  I wanted to lay into her for being stupid for a stupid reason, but even the short conversation had worn me out. I lay my head back against the pillow and let out a long, frustrated sigh.

  “The cops are gonna want to talk to you,” Yolanda said. “They’re charging him with attempted murder.”

  “Not until tomorrow,” Dr. Baynor said. “Liam needs to sleep now.”

  He started fucking around with the IV, and my head started feeling heavy again.

  “Tria,” I mumbled.

  “I’m here,” she replied.

  “Don’t walk by yourself,” I muttered. “I can’t lose you.”

  “You won’t, baby,” she said.

  I felt her fingers running over my arm again before everything went dark.

  *****

  “You should get some food and rest.”

  “I’m not leaving him until he wakes up.”

  “Tria, the nurse said you’ve been here the whole time—you need to rest so you can be strong for him later. I’ll sit with him a while.”

  “He’s the strong one,” Tria said. Her voice echoed in my head, and I wanted to answer her, but everything was still murky to me. “See? I think he’s waking up now.”

  I blinked a couple of times, but it took me a few minutes to focus on Tria and Yolanda. They were both grinning at me.

  “Good to see your eyes open,” Yolanda said. “The doc’s been keeping you pretty out of it.”

  “How long?” I asked.

  “It’s late,” Yolanda said. “Almost midnight. You were brought in last night.”

  She brought over some water for me, which helped my dry throat so I could talk better. I tried to move the sheet to the side to get a better look at the bandages up the left side of my body, but Tria just tucked them back around me again.

  “It was deep,” Yolanda said, “and you lost a lot of blood.”

  I watched Tria wipe her hand across her cheek. With a sigh, I sneaked my hand out from under the blanket and grabbed onto her fingers.

  “I’m okay,” I told her. I had no fucking idea if that was true or not, but I didn’t feel too bad.

  “Nothing major cut too bad,” Yolanda continued. “There was a nick in your stomach and intestine, but they weren’t too serious.”

  “They had to give you three transfusions,” Tria said quietly.

  I gripped her hand again.

  “I’m okay,” I said again. “My cock still works, so nothing to worry about.”

  She smashed her lips together and tried to refuse me the justification of a laugh.

  “How do you know?” she asked.

  “I’m looking at you, baby,” I said. “You want to check the state of my cock?”

  “On that note…” Yolanda grabbed her bag off the table near the door and waved goodbye, promising she’d be back to visit the next day. Tria sighed and sat heavily on the rolling chair near the bed. Her eyes were all bloodshot and droopy, which I didn’t like at all.

  “Lie down with me?” I asked. I looked up at her with what I hoped were convincing and pathetic puppy dog eyes. I was glad Yolanda wasn’t around to see me because I felt shitty, and all I really wanted was for Tria to hold me.

  Tria helped me move over without tearing the line of staples and surgical tape adorning my side and then crawled into the bed with me. I wrapped my arms around her, and she lay her hand over the top of my arm just like she usually did when we were in bed at home. I watched her gaze move to my side before she pulled the blanket up over us both.

  “I’m not going to be as pretty anymore,” I joked.

  Tria looked up at me for a moment before giving me a half smile.

  “Well, I did always like your abs,” she commented, “but they aren’t my favorite part.”

  “Of course not,” I said. “Your favorite part is my cock.”

  “No, it isn’t!” Tria laughed.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah.” She glared back at me.

  “Well, what then?”

  She traced a line over the edge of my bicep with her finger.

  “Right here,” she said quietly.

  Her tone had changed—softened and deepened. I lay my head on her shoulder and looked up at her. I flexed the muscles of my arm a bit and watched her smile.

  “Why’s that?” I asked.

  She shrugged and then moved her finger slowly back and forth over the edge of the muscle.

  “They have the strength to keep me safe,” she said. “They’ve saved me, protected me, and made me feel secure at night, but they are also soft and gentle with me.”

  She gripped my arm as I brought my hand up to cup her face. I brought her closer to me and covered her lips with mine. We kissed a couple of times before she moved her hand to my face and looked into my eyes.

  “Please quit fighting,” she whispered.

  My chest tightened up.

  “Tria…”

  “You could have died,” she said. “I heard them say if Yolanda hadn’t done everything she did while we were waiting for the ambulance, you could have died from the blood loss.”

  “I didn’t,” I told her.

  “Not the point.”

  “You just said you like my strength,” I reminded her.

  “That doesn’t mean I like the fighting.”

  For a long moment we just looked at each other, neither of us wanting to budge.

  “It’s not going to happen, Tria,” I said quietly. “It’s what I do. It’s all I do. Maybe someday but not now.”

  “You could get hurt again,” she said. “What am I going to do if something horrible happens to you?”

  “I’ve been doing this a long time,” I said. “This is the first time something like this has happened.”

  “Yolanda said you got stabbed before.”

  “That was a scratch.”

  She eyed me with a tight mouth and a hard look. I pushed her hair away from her face, and then I ran my thumb over her cheekbone. Moving closer, I kissed her slowly and gently until the door opened.

  “I thought I told you nothing strenuous,” the doctor said with a half smile and a raise of his eyebrow.

  “I guess some people consider this strenuous,” I replied with a shrug. “Maybe you need a little more practice or something. It’s just like breathing to me.”

  “No more practice needed,” he said. “I’m perfect already.”

  He didn’t make Tria move as he checked out my side, adjusted my IV, and generally fucked around with the equipment around my bed.

  “You’re doing well,” he said.

  “So I can go home now?”

  “Soon,” he replied.

  “When’s soon?” I asked.

  “Before later,” he said as he made a couple of notes on the chart at the end of the bed and walked out.

  “Asshole,” I shot at him as he left.

  “Child!” he called over his shoulder with a smile. “Gonna send you to Children’s Hospital downtown!”

  Tria sighed as she cuddled back into my side. She was motionless and quiet for some time, but I still knew exactly what she was thinking about. I wished I could tell her something different, but fighting was all I knew.

  “I don’t like it,” she finally whispered into my chest.

 
“I know.”

  *****

  I was sick to death of the hospital and the cops.

  There had been at least three different detectives who had come in to question me, Tria, and Yolanda at different times. They talked to us separately; they talked to us together, and they asked the same fucking questions over and over again.

  Devin had been arrested in a motel outside of the city. The room had been in Keith’s name and not too hard to locate. They took Tria down to the station to identify him, and I had to look at a bunch of pictures and verify which ones were Keith and Devin. Keith had been stabilized enough to be moved to a secure location until he could be formally charged.

  Apparently, he had already confessed to stabbing me though he said he wasn’t trying to kill me. The cops said he was going to plead guilty to aggravated assault, and everything else was just going to be a formality.

  According to Yolanda, he told them he was trying to show Tria how dangerous my profession was in order to get her to leave me and go back with him. They were giving him a psych evaluation as well, but they weren’t expecting that to have much impact on his sentence.

  I didn’t give a shit what happened to him as long as he didn’t cross my path again. If I ever did see him, I’d probably kill him. He wasn’t my main concern anymore anyway—food was.

  Solid food was becoming an issue.

  I was supposed to be eating it, but when Tria informed the hospital staff that I was a vegetarian, they brought me a Styrofoam plate with mashed potatoes and gravy, which obviously wasn’t vegetarian, a cup of yogurt with gelatin in it, which I wouldn’t eat, and some rice, which Tria found out had been cooked in chicken broth.

  She said a few choice words to the orderly and then disappeared out the door, claiming she’d find me something in the cafeteria. She was gone a long time, and as I was about to accept that she had made like Houdini and disappeared altogether, my doctor waltzed through the door to check on me.

  “How’s my favorite side-splitting patient?” he asked.

  “Just peachy, Doctor Banter.” The nickname had come to me in the middle of the night when Baynor was continuing to verbally spar with me while removing my catheter. Any man who could fiddle around with another man’s bits and still joke about it deserved some sort of nickname. “Seen my lady around?”