The Infamous Ellen James (Infamous Series)

by Alcorn, N. A.

  “Trent! Language please!” Trent's sister Leah is now standing behind her daughter's chair, scowling at him, while Mia bursts into a fit of giggles.

  “Mia is four, Lee! No way should she have a god damn boyfriend!” Trent's response makes me chuckle out loud, and Leah just grins back at me.

  “Mia baby, tell Uncle Trent and Ellie good night then go upstairs and get ready for bed. I'll be up in a few minutes to read you a book.” Leah glances down at Mia with a warm smile.

  “Good night, Uncle Trent! Good night, Ellie!” Mia kisses her sweet little hand and blows us a kiss before hopping off of her chair, her pigtails swinging lightly as she quickly walks away from the laptop.

  Leah sits down in front of the screen, her pretty face in full view. I can now see why Mia looks so much like Trent—Leah and Trent also share an uncanny resemblance. Leah is gorgeous with jet-black hair cut into a short, layered bob, contrasting her sky blue eyes in a very striking way. “Trent, you're right, Mia is only four years old, so I'll stop letting her go for drives in Matty's car and staying out past her one a.m. curfew. I probably shouldn't have been so lax on her punishment when I found beer in her bedroom…” Leah is grinning like the Cheshire Cat, and I honestly think I just fell in love with this woman. She is a total ball-buster, and I love that she gives her protective brother such a hard time.

  “Not funny, Lee.” Trent runs his hand through his tousled hair, causing it to become a hot mess of inky-black deliciousness.

  “Actually…” I can't help the laugh the escapes my throat. “I think it's very funny.” Trent peers back at me and gives me an annoyed look. Leah starts to chuckle hard on the other side of the screen.

  “I'm glad to see my sister and my girlfriend are finding humor in screwing with me.”

  “It's only because we love you so much, little brother.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Now you're just patronizing me.” His lips quirk up into a smirk.

  “So this is Ellie? I'm so glad I get to finally put a face to the name and all of the wonderful things you've been telling me about her.” Leah's eyes lock with mine. “Seriously…he can't stop talking about you. Every phone conversation I've had with him since he got to Charlotte has revolved around talking about how awesome you are.” Her face is beaming with amusement.

  “Please don't hold anything back on my account.” Trent flushes with embarrassment as he gives Leah an exasperated look before glancing back at me with a tight smile.

  “Awww, you talk about me? You know he started stalking me the moment he stepped foot in Charlotte—” I quickly say before Trent cuts me off again.

  “Jesus…” He is shaking his head in exasperation. “I should've known you two would get along so perfectly.” Leah and I snicker at Trent's expense. He's just so damn easy to get riled up, and it seems that we both have a way of giving him a hard time.

  I hear my phone ringing loudly from my purse. “Leah, it was so nice to meet you! I hope we can do this again really soon!”

  “You too, Ellie! Get my number from Trent so you can call me, and I'll give away all of my little brother's secrets and most embarrassing stories.” Leah gives a smile and light wave before I leave the kitchen to go grab my phone from my purse.

  I take a quick phone call from Amy. She just wants to know if I am going to come back to the apartment tonight or stay at Trent's. I guess she and Lizzy have an entire night planned of Chinese take-out and sappy romantic comedies. I'm happy they have become really good friends.

  I've felt extremely guilty at times since Lizzy moved in. I've been so wrapped in Trent over the past several weeks, spending the majority of my time with him, and I kind of feel like I haven't really been there for Lizzy.

  She's going through so much with everything between her and her husband, Matt. She's in a foreign city and most of her friends and family are still back in Louisville. The guilt was building up, and finally last night, I had dinner with her in hopes that I could make up for all of the times I've felt like I've let her down. She reassured me that everything is okay, that she's actually happy here in Charlotte, and she's been using this time away from Louisville to find herself again.

  Lizzy has started taking online classes through a local college; she has dreams of finishing her teaching degree. She's also shown a big interest in working out at a nearby gym. Ryder, her personal trainer, is beyond delicious. Someone that good-looking should not be allowed to walk around in a gym all day flexing his muscly biceps, making women cream their panties. Because seriously…he's that fucking good-looking. I'm not sure how Lizzy is managing to get through her training sessions without dry humping his leg. Amy and I got to meet him tonight at the gym after our hot yoga class. Let's just say I had a hard time convincing Amy to leave.

  After I end my conversation with Amy, I start heading back into the kitchen, but I stop when I overhear Trent and Leah still Skyping.

  “So things with you and Elle seem pretty serious?”

  “Yeah, I guess you could say that… I love her, Leah. I really do.”

  “Wow… I never thought I would hear those words come out of my little brother's mouth.”

  Trent lets out a small laugh. “I know. I never thought those words would come out of my mouth either. My career has always been my focus, and I couldn't have given two shits about getting into a relationship, but she's just so perfect… I can't wait for you to meet her in person.”

  “What about Seattle? Dad told me University Hospital has made you a big offer. Head of Trauma Surgery. That's a huge deal, Trent.”

  Head of University Seattle's Trauma Surgery? Oh my god.

  Just hearing Leah say that has my stomach turned up in knots, and I have the urge to run to his bathroom and vomit. I start to hear Trent's voice giving Leah a response, but I just can't do it. I just can't eavesdrop into their conversation. I quickly walk into his bedroom, away from hearing distance, because I definitely can't hear what he's going to say to Leah. I just…can't.

  I'm a fucking chicken shit and more than aware of this. I'm just too scared to hear him say he's taking University Seattle's offer.

  I mean, who wouldn't accept their offer?

  Why in the hell would he refuse an offer like that to stay in Charlotte to play house with his girlfriend?

  A girlfriend he's known all of two months…

  Push it down. Way…way down.

  Fuck my life and my shitty, shitty way of handling things. If I had some god damn balls, I'd just ask him straight up what his plan is. But, no. I'm a flaky, fickle, chicken shit.

  Someone just go ahead and smack me.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “It's okay to break down. Pent-up emotion will find its way out no matter how hard you fight it. So don't fight it. Cry. Scream. Be angry. Let the grief come out. Don't put up walls. Don't hold back, because holding back will only get you…nowhere.”

  I pull into my designated parking spot near my apartment and put my Mustang in park without cutting the engine. My mood is somber. Devastation and defeat are creeping through my thoughts. I glance at the clock and see that it's already midnight. Something I Can Never Have by Nine Inch Nails is blaring through my speakers as I watch raindrops slowly drip down the window shield. My mood is falling deeper into the black abyss. The combination of music and rain is only taking me further.

  My sixteen-hour shift in the ER ended with several victims of a highway auto accident coming in by squad. Four compact cars and one semi-truck were involved. One of the victims was a three-year-old boy who had been in the backseat of his mother's car. A beautiful blue-eyed, brown-haired baby named Tommy who happened to be sitting on the side of the car that took most of the impact. Tommy's injuries were critical, and when I left the hospital, Trent was still in the OR with him.

  Flashbacks of the boy's mother are front and center in my mind. Her bloodcurdling screams and bone-chilling sobs seem to be on constant repeat. I can still visualize her outside of trauma bed one on her knees with her head in her hands, v
isibly breaking down while we were performing CPR and intubating her lifeless child.

  I don't know if he's going to pull through.

  I shut my eyes to keep the tears inside and lean my head back on my seat while silently praying to God that he wraps his arms around Tommy and gives him strength to survive.

  I cut the engine and slowly walk toward my apartment, attempting to push back the mental flashbacks of Tommy's lifeless body underneath my hands while I performed chest compressions. My mind is numb. I am in shock and running on autopilot. I am hanging on by a mental thread as I shakily put my keys into the lock and open my apartment door.

  I throw my keys on the kitchen table and sit down. I'm thankful that Amy and Lizzy aren't home tonight. Amy is working the late shift in the ER and Lizzy went home to Louisville to see Matt. I am just blankly staring off into space, trying not to think. Trying to shut my brain off and not replay every detail of my night. But I can't do it. I'm running through every aspect, every sound, and every visual. I can even smell the remnants of the chocolate ice cream that was on Tommy's shirt before I had to cut it off of his little body. I am usually better about shutting my emotions off and just doing my fucking job, but I can't do it this time.

  This was a baby.

  A sweet, helpless child whose life might have been taken away. All of this because one asshole decided that drinking and driving was a good idea. A man that chose to drive home from the bar when his alcohol level was way beyond the legal limit and was lucky enough to walk away with only minor injuries.

  I feel the bile start to rise in my throat. I quickly get out of my chair and run toward the bathroom. I make it just in time before emptying all of my stomach contents into the toilet. The combination of adrenaline, nerves, and mental exhaustion is eating away at me. I sit on the bathroom floor and put my head in my hands in a pathetic attempt to regain control.

  Time seems to stand still as I remain seated on the cool, hard bathroom tile.

  Eventually, I find the strength to stand up and turn on the hot water. I'm hoping a shower will help relax all of this emotional energy that is coursing through my body. I avoid the bathroom mirror. I'm afraid that once I see my red-rimmed eyes and tired face I will break down. I'm not ready to lose it. I feel guilty for even thinking about crying. I don't have a baby that is lying on an OR table, fighting for his every breath. I don't have to attempt to perform a miracle to save a small child's life. I am one of the fortunate ones. I am home. I am alive. I don't have a loved one whose life is hanging on by a mere heartbeat.

  I strip off my soiled scrubs. As I throw them in the trash, I see the bloodstains all over my pant legs. Tommy's blood. I feel the bile rising again and quickly put my head over the toilet, dry heaving several times until I have nothing left. I rinse my mouth out at the sink and step into the hot, steamy shower. The water makes me realize I am bone-chillingly cold. Placing my face directly under the soothing water, I feel a small sob escape my throat. I attempt to force it back, but it's too late. The tears are freely flowing down my cheeks. I can taste the saltiness on my lips as my sorrow slides down my face with the water.

  My body is shaking uncontrollably, and I hear the gasping sobs coming more quickly from deep within my chest. I rest my back against the shower wall. My body slowly slides down on its own accord until I am seated directly underneath the showerhead. As the water pelts down, I let my mind release all of the pent-up emotions I have unsuccessfully avoided since I left the ER.

  I sit on the floor of the shower until the water runs cold, my fingers pruning. I put on my plush white robe and wrap my long auburn locks in a towel. I use the hand towel by the sink to wipe the steamy residue off of the mirror. I slowly lift my eyes until I am looking at myself.

  Red-rimmed and dark-circled, I am visibly worn down.

  I decide to forgo eating and brush my teeth in hopes that I can sleep this night off. I don't even worry about turning off the lights in the living room. I walk slowly down the hall, step into my bedroom, and fall face first onto my bed and into my pillows.

  "What a fucking night," I mumble to myself before falling into a restless sleep.

  ***

  Waking up to several large knocks at the door, I groggily get out of bed and pad down the hall. The clock above the TV says 3 a.m.

  It must be Trent.

  I open the door and I am immediately startled by the man standing on the threshold of my apartment. My body is overwhelmed by fear. Deep within my gut, I know that something is very, very wrong with this scenario. My breath quickens and pulse speeds up as adrenaline pumps into my veins.

  I am face to face with Frank.

  ER patient Frank.

  Paranoid Schizophrenic Frank.

  He is staring at me with cold, soulless eyes.

  Fuck.

  Chapter Thirty

  “Fear is a difficult emotion. It can either make you unable to do anything or force you to dig deep within yourself and fight. Fight with everything you have. Fight for your every breath, your every heartbeat…fight for your life.”

  Frank roughly pushes his steel-toe boot into the door, blocking any attempt at keeping him out of my apartment.

  "It's bad manners not to invite someone in when they come to see you.”

  I take a deep, shaky breath and try to calm my nerves before attempting to answer him. Maybe I can talk him down off this proverbial ledge he's on and avoid the dark, tragic scenarios that are passing through my mind.

  "Frank, it's three in the morning. I apologize for my rude behavior, but I was a little startled to have someone knocking at my door at this hour. I think it would be best if you went home."

  "Desperate times call for desperate measures, Nurse Ellen."

  "Well, I think it would be best if you went home," I say before quickly attempting to close the door to my apartment.

  Frank roughly pushes the door back open, wraps his hand around my neck, and pulls a gun from his jacket pocket.

  Oh fuck.

  "You keep doing that, Nurse Ellen. Bad manners are not becoming of you,"

  The barrel of the gun is now pressed into my right temple.

  Double fuck.

  He pushes me backwards into my apartment and slams the door shut with his boot. His revolting mouth is breathing harshly into my face as his hand increases pressure on my throat.

  My mind is in panic mode.

  I am frantically thinking of ways to defend myself or call for help. I can see my cell phone on the kitchen counter, but it's not within my reach. I am praying that Trent or Amy don't come home right now. I'm not really sure what Frank would do if they were to walk through that door.

  Frank shoves me into the kitchen and sternly instructs me to sit down in the chair. He is mumbling to himself and pacing back and forth. In the light of my kitchen, I can see just how disheveled this man looks. He has most likely been living on the streets for several days; he reeks of alcohol and his entire appearance is unkempt.

  "Frank, why are you doing this? If you need help, I will help you. You don't have to do this."

  "SHUT THE FUCK UP!" He is boring holes into my skull with his dark, disturbing eyes. They are black, lifeless pits that make you feel like you're falling into the depths of hell. "You don't want to help me. You never did, you stupid bitch. I don't fucking need help. I came here for a reason and I'm going to get what I want." Frank is looking me up and down, undressing me, violating me. His eyes stop near my chest, and he slowly steps toward me before sharply pulling my robe open and crudely grabbing my breast. My body jerks violently away from his slimy hands.

  "Get off of me!" I scream into his face as I try to put distance between us by standing up and moving away from the chair.

  Then he places the barrel of the gun into my temple again, and dread fills my gut.

  "You need to sit back down. You try that again and I will fucking blow your brains out."

  I sit back down into the chair. My mind is shouting for me to make some quick decisions or I
am not going to walk away from this alive.

  This man will kill me in my own apartment.

  Frank is leaning back against the kitchen counter with his gun pointing directly at me. His hands are trembling slightly, and his left eye keeps twitching at a rapid pace. He is muttering to himself as he stares at my open robe. I attempt to close my robe shut so my naked chest isn't exposed to him, but he quickly stalks towards me, ripping my hand away with brutal force.

  "Put your hands behind your back," he demands as he pulls a roll of duct tape from his jacket pocket.

  No…No…NO!

  I have reached that critical moment where I need to fight.

  Fight with everything I have.

  I know I cannot let this man tie me down or else I will be left for dead. I quickly stand up and grab for his gun. I manage to get one hand on the barrel and push him back toward the kitchen counter, but I am no match for his strength. Using his elbow, he quickly swipes across my face. The impact causes me to stumble back and Frank takes advantage. A quick, forceful punch to the stomach makes me immediately loosen my grip on his gun, the feel of bile rising in my throat as all of the breath is pushed out of my lungs. My eyes water and my jaw clenches. I weakly lift my eyes up and face the vicious impact of a hard blow to the face…knocking me out cold.

  Pain… So. Much. Pain.

  I feel disoriented as I slowly blink my eyes. The throbbing ache in my head is intensified. My vision is blurred, and it takes a few minutes before I'm able to focus on my surroundings. I can make out that I'm still in the kitchen. I glance down and see that I'm actually lying on the floor, my robe open, and I'm left exposed in nothing but my cotton panties. My hands and ankles are bound together.

  FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.

  My heart is practically pounding through my chest as I take in my surroundings and come to understand the dire situation I'm currently faced with. I am lying vulnerably bound and exposed while a fucking psychopath is loose in my apartment. I glance up at the clock on the stove and see that it's only 3:30 am. I was out long enough for him to tie me up. Overwhelming fear washes over me, and I'm left vulnerable, contemplating the fact that I'm not going to walk out of this alive.