“Kate, are you all right?” he asked, his voice sounding muffled through the doorway.
Without opening the door I answered through it. “I’m fine, Matt. And I don’t want to talk to you. Can you just go away?”
“Hello Kate,” he persisted, “I’m really glad to hear you’re okay. I’ve been knocking for a few minutes. Sorry if it got loud.”
He paused, waiting for my response. I didn’t say a word.
“Hopefully I didn’t wake you up?” he continued. I had nothing to say.
“Look, I don’t want to have to talk to you like this, with a wall between us. Can you please just open the door, and give me five minutes?”
“I wish you would respect what I asked and just leave, Matt,” I answered heatedly. I did not want to talk to him, listen to him, or lay eyes on that gorgeous face or smoking hot body. I think I knew deep down that if I had heard him out, I would probably let things slide and succumb to his irresistible charm. It was better if I didn’t see him.
“Not even 2 minutes?” he asked.
I didn’t reply.
“C’mon Kate” he said. “I came all the way down here for you. You deserve to hear the truth. I really respect you, and… well, you know there’s something happening between us. I’m just asking for a moment.”
“Matt,” I started. “Go home. Please. I’ll think about it and get back to you.”
“Well, okay Kate,” he answered in a softer, more dejected tone. “I’m really sorry about everything. There’s really a simple explanation, but I respect your request. I’ll go now, but I want to leave this for you. I’m just sliding it under the door, okay? Please open it. Take care, Kate.”
I didn’t answer him. He slid a white, heavy stock envelope under the door. I heard him sigh, and listened to his steps as he walked away. Be strong, Kate. A part of me yearned for him. I was tempted to tear open the door and rush after him, so he could explain and I could forgive him. My stronger self would not allow me to do that. I picked up the envelope, and then walked back over to the sofa. I sat down for a few moments, trying to gather my thoughts, and my composure.
I noticed my breath had sped up from his visit. I was on edge, and he was back on my mind. It was partly the fight or flight reaction of having been awoken from sleep, and my mixed feelings about how I just handled myself. It was good ole’ amygdala taking over, being primitive, as that part of the brain had been intended.
I never knew why certain lectures from my first year college psychology class would suddenly pop into my head at moments like this, but I ran with it. It was a beautifully analytical distraction from Matt. I thought about how the amygdala was made popular by that Seth guy. I couldn’t remember his name. In any case, thinking about that part of the brain that controlled our survival instincts and ability to defend ourselves helped me to not think about Matt.
What else did I remember about the amygdala? It is fundamentally at the base of our emotional memory. What else? Yes, it’s what causes us to fight, flee or freeze. And it makes us to act out trauma and protect any images we identified with during said trauma. I was trying to convince myself this was working.
What else did I remember about it? Oh yes. That small group of guys in psych class who would play out whole Star Wars scenes with their pens as laser swords, calling each other Padme Amidala or Padawan, to play on the professor’s lecture. Men really could be such jokers. And I was fooling myself, if I thought that trying to distract myself with amygdala recall would get my mind off Matt. I sighed out loud.
I leaned back in the sofa and closed my eyes. Visions of him flooded into my consciousness and my breathing picked up again. I couldn’t stop thinking about him, his touch, and how I felt around him. I reached over and picked up the envelope. Right away, I knew what it was before opening it.
My nana’s necklace and pendant. How could I have forgotten it at his place? I must have left it in his room that night. I ripped open the envelope and started second guessing myself. Matt was so thoughtful to have gone looking through my burnt out unit to find it for me. How could I have not given him a second, to tell me what there was between him and Joy?
I began to feel I was being selfish and inconsiderate. No matter what he had to say, he deserved the opportunity to say it. Maybe I just didn’t want to hear it, but that didn’t mean I shouldn’t give him that time. I decided I’d hear him out next time I saw him. If he hadn’t completely give up on me already. I was pretty rude at the door earlier.
I hadn’t been sitting on the sofa for more than 5 minutes since Matt left, when there was another round of knocking at the door. This time, it was more like banging and sounded aggressive. I wondered for a brief moment if it was Matt. Why would he come back like that? Maybe he thought he owned the place so he felt he could throw his weight around to get me to talk to him?
I decided I would open the door, and stick to my decision just moments earlier, to let him say his piece. Before I stood up, I heard a loud WHAM, like he was using his whole body weight to push against the door. The room was an L shape, so there was not a clear line of sight from the sofa to the front door. I sensed it had to be someone else.
“You don’t need to do that,” I shouted. Some fear was building inside me, so I didn’t approach the door. “Are you looking for another hotel room? You can just go down to the front desk and ask them for help. I think you should just…”
Before I knew it, I heard a splintering crack, then a crash of the wooden door, as it gave way and fell. I couldn’t believe that he would break the door down. I stepped back, looking around for something I could use to protect myself. There was only a vase, so I picked it up with both hands. I saw the shadow before the man, and that’s when I knew with certainty that it was not Matt. The shadow was of a stout man, with long hair that met him at his shoulders.
“You’re in the wrong room sir,” I shouted, hoping he would leave.
He did not. He just stood there silently, out of my direct line of sight. Eventually, he said in a thick accent, “I here to make sure you no see nothing that night.”
I was confused about his accent, but understood what he said. It didn’t make sense, however that’s when full-blown fear started to kick in for me. I didn’t have anywhere to escape except to the adjoining room, so I turned around, looking at the door. There was barely any time to undo the latch. In my panic-filled haste, I fumbled with it, then heard him approaching behind me. I turned around and picked up the vase again.
“Get out!” I shouted.
“Listen girl,” he said in a calm, but firm tone. “I only say this one time. You no see nothing in unit 16 that night. You understand?”
Unit 16? I had no idea what he was talking about, and I had never seen this man before. I screamed as loudly as I could, making a beeline around him to try and get out the same doorway he had just broken into. My shrill scream must have set him off, because he reached out and grabbed my shoulder. He quickly put one arm around my neck in a choke hold. My fighting instincts kicked in. Everything appeared to move in slow motion, and I vividly remember thinking to myself, “wow Kate, that was a timely lesson on the amygdala before this character broke down your door.”
I stomped on his feet as hard as I could and threw one elbow back into his stomach area.
“Ouchhh!” he screeched. “You fucking bitch. I was just going to scare you little bit, but for that, now I fucking kill you!”
I squirmed, trying to get away, but he tightened his grip around my neck. I was stunned that he was here, choking me, let alone saying he’d kill me. It was surreal. I then reminded myself that I was in Manhattan, a large city, and this guy could be any mentally unstable person, or criminal for that matter.
I continued to struggle with him, but felt myself beginning to lose consciousness. I knew if I didn’t do something right then, I would probably be done for. Had I let myself slip into unconsciousness, there would be no chance for me. What I had left in the way of strength was so very little, but I d
ug down deep and grabbed hold of possibility. Possible was better than dead. In that brief moment, I recalled my father telling me that if I was ever being attacked, go for the head and the eyes. I reached out with my hand that was still instinctively clenched around the vase, and crashed it against the wall beside us. As it shattered, I shoved the remaining piece left in my hand up and into his head.
He wailed, and loosened his grip enough for me to pull away. I stumbled forward, and bolted into the hallway to the elevator, pressing feverishly on the call button. I tried to scream to get the attention of anyone who could hear me, glancing back into the hallway to see if he was coming after me. Very little sound would come out, because of how hard he had choked me. And no one came.
As the elevator door opened I rushed on and into the arms of… Matt. I couldn’t believe it was him. There was also a middle-aged, well-dressed couple on the elevator, who took a step back. They looked horrified at the sight of me. Tears started streaming down my face as I gasped hard for air and coughed.
“Oh my God, Kate. What happened to you?” he shouted. “I only came back on a whim. Was hoping that I could make one more try to convince you to hear me out, even if it meant saying what I needed to say through a closed door. I had no idea. What happened?”
I couldn’t speak, so I just pointed one hand at my throat and the other back towards the room.
“Sir, Ma’am, take her down to the main floor and tell reception to call 911,” he instructed the couple, in a commanding tone. “I’ll take care of this.”
I grabbed his arm to try and stop him. There was no way to tell how dangerous the man was, or whether he was carrying a weapon. Matt pulled away and charged down the hallway toward the room. As the elevator doors closed, all I could see was Matt at the side of the doorway, inching his body across to the opening, to carefully look inside. His demeanor had completely changed. He was all adrenaline, mixed with anger and caution.
Hero battle stance.
Chapter 3
The woman in the elevator held on to me gently as we got to the lobby. Her husband came around on my other side, took off his coat and placed it over my shoulders. When the elevator made it to the main floor, they walked me over to the armchairs in the seating area beside the front desk. Long before we got there, the husband shouted out for someone to call 911. They sat to me down and asked me my name, but I couldn’t speak. One of the front desk staff recognized me and came over with a bottle of water. Other people started to gather around.
“Are you all right Miss Samuel?” She asked. She was the same person I had spoken to about ensuring no one came to my room the night before. I nodded and pointed at my throat. I felt a rush of pain in my hand, and realized that I had cut myself with the vase during the ordeal. I was bleeding.
Within a few minutes, Matt ran towards me from the stairwell beside the elevator. He leaned over and placed both hands on my shoulder, looking carefully at my neck.
“Did anyone call an ambulance?” he asked aloud to the female staff person.
“Yes Mr. Lewis,” she answered. “They should be here any minute now.”
“You don’t seem to have any lacerations on your neck,” Matt continued, “but we definitely have to get you checked out.”
I looked at him and then look questioningly toward the elevator doors. I couldn’t speak, so he figured out I was questioning with my eyes, to find out what happened to the man. He understood me right away and answered, “It looks like the guy ran off through the adjoining door. I checked your rooms thoroughly, and then went down the emergency stairwell to see if I could catch up with him. He’s gone, but he left lots of evidence. There’s blood on the floor and on a broken vase. Did you hit him with that vase, Kate?”
I nodded in agreement.
“That was quick thinking,” he replied. “And it probably saved your life. Dammit. I should’ve insisted on staying with you, you know that, Kate? If I’d just stayed, he’d have to deal with me.” I just looked at him. There was so much emotion in Matt’s eyes. He seemed so strong and intense, yet weak and helpless.
Two paramedics walked in and came toward us. One began to take my vitals and inspected my choke marks, while the other spoke to Matt. They seemed to know each other, which made sense. I motioned to one of them, trying to tell them with body language that I could walk myself to the ambulance vehicle. I pointed towards the exit and stood up, and was able to get some muffled words out, although my voice was strained and speaking was painful.
“Please, I can walk by myself,” I said quietly. “I don’t want to go out in a stretcher. I’m sure I’ll be fine once the doctors check everything out.”
The paramedics looked like they were about to concede, but Matt did not. “I understand where you’re coming from, but you could have a serious neck injury. Let them do their job, okay?”
I closed my eyes and nodded. He was probably right, but I wasn’t happy about it. The second paramedic went out to get the stretcher and the other stayed with me. He secured a brace around my injured neck, and began tending to the cuts on my hand from the broken vase. Matt instructed the front desk staff to secure the room, to ensure that no one went in until the police could investigate and take evidence. He also told her to get the technician to start pulling all the security tapes for when the police arrived.
Four uniformed police officers and one dressed in plain clothes walked in at the same time that the second paramedic was wheeling in the stretcher for me. They all knew Matt. I was not surprised because local police, fire, and ambulance would normally work closely together during day-to-day emergency response. Matt recounted what he could to them, as the medic motioned for me to get on the stretcher. I complied. He placed a few blankets over me and began to wheel me out to the van.
Matt noticed, then excused himself from his conversation and came over to me. He leaned in close to my ear and whispered, “No pressure, but I can come with you in the ambulance if you’d like.”
I smiled and nodded in agreement. I didn’t want to be alone.
“Thanks Kate,” he said, and kissed me gently on my hair. “I want to make sure you’re okay. I’ll let them know I’ll be with you for the ride over to the hospital.”
He walked over and spoke to the cops first, then to his hotel staff. When he came back to me his face was more relaxed. “One of the officers will meet us there. They’ll want to get your statement on what happened as soon as possible. It’s standard protocol, but the more you can remember right after the incident, the better a chance they’ll have of figuring out who did this to you, and why.”
Matt stood aside as the medics both positioned the stretcher to be slid into the back of their vehicle. He jumped on last. The space was cramped, so he sat in a spot closer to the back doors.
It still hurt to speak, but my voice was less strained. “What about my purse?”
“All taken care of,” he answered. “Once the officers are finished with the scene they’ll have the hotel send it to you at the hospital.” We rode the rest of the way in silence, with Matt looking over at me with a look of concern.
* * *
When we arrived at the hospital, Matt stayed in the waiting room while they registered me in triage. For a few minutes, my stretcher was positioned in a hallway. I was wheeled around to get X-rays of my neck and other tests, before the orderly took me into a room. It was set up as though it was for triple occupancy; however the other two inpatient beds were empty. I expected that eventually, I’d have company. The lights were turned down to a dimmed setting, which made me feel more relaxed. It felt good to lay back in the silence, with no one around. I felt the waves of sleep coming on and didn’t fight it. My body was drained of energy.
After what felt like minutes, the sound of the door opening, woke me up. The doctor walked in. It was the same doctor who had seen me on both prior occasions, but he was with a different nurse. He shook his head in what seemed like disapproval, as I made eye contact with him.
“Miss Samuel,
we really have to stop meeting like this,” he jested. “There are other ways to see more of the hospital, you know. You could volunteer, for example.”
I didn’t know what to say. And it hurt to speak so I just smiled sheepishly.
“Let’s talk about your injury this time,” he started. “Your strangulation injury is serious but not life-threatening. We found no laryngeal fractures or upper airway edema, but there was moderate vocal cord immobility. What this means is no bones fractured in or around your throat and neck. There’s also no internal throat swelling. You’ll find your voice raspy for the next few days, though. This is what I mean by moderate vocal cord immobility. Not great for a radio show host, but such is life.”
“This person here is from the NYPD Crime Investigative Unit. She has a physical assault kit and will take samples of all the evidence she can find on you, to support the Police investigation into what happened.”
I nodded and looked over at her. She smiled softly and nodded to me.
“Over the next few days, you’ll also find you may have some new injuries surface, such as a reddened right eye, your eyelids drooping, neck abrasions and bruising, a sore throat, or a headache. They are all to be expected, and normal as part of recovery. If you experience any throat swelling, difficulty breathing and swallowing, feeling faint or lightheaded, you need to come back to us, alright? An urgent care clinic or hospital is your best bet.”
“Okay doctor,” I whispered. The investigator walked around to the counter on the other side of my bed to begin setting up while the doctor continued.
“The cuts to your hand were superficial, so no stitches were required. You don’t need to keep them bandaged up either. Your first set of bandages on your arm, due to the minor burns from last week’s fire, can also stay off. And as you never lost consciousness, we can release you right away.”
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