Her body begins to seize again, making it damn near impossible to keep her breathing up.
“What the hell happened to get you to this state?” I ask in a hushed whisper.
There’s no way in hell she could’ve heard me, but her eyes blink furiously as if she did. All I see is Clara. All I remember is that no one was there to save her. That is not happening in this case. The ambulance comes to an abrupt halt, the back doors swing wide open, and all chaos continues to save the life of this unknown woman.
Time fades just like long forgotten history as all hands begin working on the woman. Her body is so broken she’s going to need stabilizing while we’re running tests and preparing her for surgery. The chest tube relieving her collapsed lung.
“Get these cops the hell out of here, Mable!” I roar, rush past the motherfuckers who think they own this place.
“We need to know what happened, doc?”
“That is not important right now. You’ll get your answers when she’s good and ready. Now, get out of here. Go investigate the crime scene.” I walk right past them and straight into my ER. The nurses are already in prep mode.
“I need to get cleaned up; you got this, Callahan?” I ask one of the other trauma doctors.
He nods going straight into action without a second thought. The bloody mess the woman is in doesn’t affect him one bit.
It does, though. I have no doubt about it. I push through the swinging doors, get my bloodied shirt off, and scrub the ever-loving shit out of my hands and arms three times before I push the button with my forearm for a nurse.
“I doubt her nipple can be stitched back on. Can you take it out of my pocket, make sure it gets sterilized, please?” I ask.
“Yes, of course.” I stand still, while she dries my hands and chest, places a gown and gloves on me. Digs in my pocket and retrieves the woman’s body part.
“Whoever did this is a masochist. That poor girl. Thank God you were there to save her,” she says kindly.
Guilt heats my chest; it tears it open, crawls inside, and seals itself shut. If only I could have saved my sister.
Bursting back into the ER room, I see it’s full of action. The chief surgeon of plastic surgery is elbow deep assessing the broken beauty. He’s barking out instructions to get her jaw wired right away with her nipple being the least of his concerns right now.
Callahan takes care of her overdosed body by slipping her into a short induced coma, knocking off one more problem on our to-do list. It’s going to be a long, nasty road of struggle for her, but I will fight like a motherfucker to help her whether she wants it or not.
3
Zeke
My bed. My fucking bed would be heaven tonight, but I’m stuck in the on-call room with these scratchy-as-hell sheets. A full night’s sleep would also be heaven. At this point, I’ll settle for sixty minutes of deep slumber.
Every time I close my eyes, I see her. Her broken body trying to grip on for dear life. Her nipple sliced off and stuffed down her throat. She was left to drown in her own vomit, flesh, and blood. She had poisoned herself with copious amounts of drugs. Meth and God only knows what else. Jesus H. Christ.
Her jaw was shattered to the point there was an open wound.
I pound my fist into the mattress knowing sleep will never come with my mind on this nasty, never-ending replay of an evening. It’s all too much. I sit up, the guilt clawing away at my thick clogged throat. My mind telling me to go take a shower, to clear my head. Anything that will try and help me relax.
Again, like a pompous dickhead, I’d rather be at home in my shower with the force of ten showerheads, sleek tile, and my favorite shampoo and soap. Instead, all I can smell is her.
Fuck, these past few months have rained hell down on me. The hospital has run me ragged transitioning to new higher-ups. The ER room is my kingdom, and they all know it, but it also comes with long hours and lots of work. Then Saxon needing my help with his club. I’ll always be loyal as hell to those men for saving my brother, but I’m exhausted from all of it.
Covering their tracks and sneaking around the hospital isn’t exactly easy, to say the least. I’m not a dirty doctor, nor do I feel the secrets I’ve kept are wrong in any way. This world is fucking corrupted. Caitlin and her mother are prime examples of the way certain people in this fucked-up world live.
Society’s bad guys masked as the good guys are the most dangerous ones. They’re the ones who cause harm tearing people’s lives down one by one and get away with it. It all makes me fucking sick. Except, to a point I’m no better. I carry on and turn an eye to the wrongs my brother and his club do.
The reflection staring back at me in the mirror is downright scary. Black lines under my eyes, the scruff on my face, and grown-out hair. I know some women find this shit sexy, but it just reminds me of the past few months of hell. Thankful no one else is in the on-call room, I grab my shaving kit from my locker and set out to work on shaving. With a final swipe of the towel on my face, I look like a brand-new man when I peer into the mirror this time. The next time I have a spare hour, I’m paying a visit to my favorite barber on third and Monroe to buzz this mop of hair off.
I prefer a bald head; it reminds of the days spent in the service. Days where good took over evil and wiped them clean off this earth.
Now, just a hot shower, and I might feel part-human again. The shower is nothing fancy. Hot water is hot water at this point. I’m naked and just getting ready to step in when there’s light rapping on the door.
“Come in.” I have a damn good suspicion who it’s going to be.
“Doctor.”
I turn to see Marissa, my favorite nurse to fool around with, walking into the bathroom. She shuts the door quietly behind her. Her eyes are focusing in on my ass.
“Need something?” I ask, only turning my face slightly to face her with one hand still on the shower door.
“Haven’t seen you around lately and, um…” Her voice shakes, so I cut her off.
“Get in. I have twenty minutes,” I lie. I’ve got more time than that. I’m not about to tell her that, though.
Marissa beams brightly reaching behind her and locking the door. I step into the shower letting the hot water pour down on me.
It relaxes me instantly letting the worry of the past few days drift away. The silhouette of Marissa undressing outside the shower makes my dick grow hard in a matter of seconds. She’s an amazing fuck, always adventurous and up for a good time. She can suck cock like no other. Her breasts aren’t half bad, either.
The door to the shower opens slowly with Marissa’s auburn hair falling over her shoulders. Her shyness when she’s not shy at all really isn’t my biggest turn-on, but what the fuck ever. I need this, so I’m taking it. My hands go to work thirsty for her skin and a release.
Her body folds up to mine. All of it mine for the taking. All of the sudden, I have a hankering for her sweet pussy all over my mouth. Marissa gasps when I go down to my knees, press her back against the wall, and then throw her one of legs over my wide shoulders.
“Zeke, uh, oh, God,” she cries as I flick her clit with my tongue.
I work her over and over until she bursts open wide. I inhale her sweetness; all of it takes over the smell from today.
I’m the biggest son of a bitch for thinking about someone else, but fuck it. I really don’t care.
“Condom now,” I grit out, standing up.
My gaze tracks her sweet ass as she turns for the shower door, reaching out and pulling one from the pocket of her scrubs. Damn woman came prepared. If I cared, I would praise her for it. She’s going to get my cock, the one thing she came here for. It’s good enough.
It’s too fucking painful not to reach down and stroke my dick. I need some fucking relief. It’s a sign of how busy I’ve been lately. I’m known as a playboy with different women in and out of my bed all the time. Fuck, some nights it’s a couple of women, but lately, there’s been no time for play. All of it has me wou
nd so tight my balls throb.
She’s back in an instant, passing the condom to me. Putting it to my lips, I tear it open with my teeth. Marissa falls to her knees and rubs the seam of her lips over the head of my dick.
“Fuck,” I growl.
She takes it as a sign to go ahead. Her mouth enveloping my entire cock moving from base to tip. When she adds a light hint of teeth to the mixture, I nearly blow my load down the back of her throat. My hand wraps tightly in her hair, tugging her up. I need her now. Any more foreplay, and I’ll fucking combust. I whip her around until the seam of her ass is nestling my cock then roll on the condom.
I’d love nothing more than to take her sweet ass right now, but I don’t have the time, and I’d bust a nut in half a thrust. Marissa rolls her hips, making it perfect for my dick to slide right into her. My fingers dig into the flesh on her hips as I pump in and out of her. My mind finally able to relax, my body climbing high to an uncontrollable release.
It only takes one sweet little moan to escape her lips before she has me spilling into her while growling out my pleasure. I sear her with a sweet kiss to her shoulder blade before I pull out, roll the condom off, wash my dick, and scrub the hell out of my body.
I step out, flush the condom down the toilet, and set about the upcoming day.
Marissa stays behind in the shower, while I dry off and get dressed for my next set of rounds.
Peering down at my wristwatch after getting dressed, I see I have plenty of time left to grab something to eat in the cafeteria. My footsteps are lighter as I take the stairs down. Who knew a good fuck instead of an hour of sleep would have lifted my spirits so much.
After grabbing a turkey sandwich, I spy Caitlin sitting in the corner all by herself and decide to check up on her. Or shall I call her Nadine? I joke to myself. It’s the secret name bestowed upon her to protect her identity from the hospital staff. Katch, her boyfriend, nearly died awhile back in a brutal attack by the same motherfucker who shot my brother. Saxon was lucky, since it was only a superficial wound.
“Mind if I join you?” I ask.
Caitlin, lost in her own thoughts, takes a few seconds to peer up at me. “Not much company here, but knock yourself out.”
She studies her bagel and begins teasing me about being the favorite among the nurses at the hospital. I have a damn good poker face, because if she knew what I was just doing to Marissa in the shower, she’d be all over my ass. The thing about being a manwhore is not to brag or boast about it, because then you’re just an ignorant douchebag. At least, I’m not a complete liar when I admit to her I’m exhausted and so is my dick, because in all reality, he is exhausted now.
“A lot on your mind?” I ask her.
“Yeah,” she replies.
“You don’t know me well, but I can tell that you’re good people.” I rest my elbows on the table hopeful she doesn’t take my comment wrong. “I've heard bits and pieces of the shit that’s going down. It’s fucked up.”
“Seems fucked up is my middle name these days.”
“We all have our demons that keep us up at night.”
Then smartass Caitlin retorts, leaving me speechless. We banter back and forth with no bullshit lining the conversation. It’s easy and relaxing while I inhale my food, which is a major mistake, because it settles in the bottom of my gut like a two-ton brick.
“Dr. Hartley to the ER. Code Blue. Dr. Hartley to the ER. Code Blue,” starts blaring across the intercom, stopping my heart.
I stand up quickly and excuse myself as I rush from the table. This time, I take the stairs two at a time up to the ER floor. When the door to the staircase flies open, it’s all out fucking chaos.
“Hartley, we were transporting Jane Doe for an MRI, and she began seizing. Heart rate and blood pressure out of control again.”
“She’s puking. Need to get her mouth open,” a nurse yells.
“No,” the plastic surgeon hollers back. “Her jaw will not heal. It has to stay shut until I get her into surgery.”
In three long and powerful strides, my mind's made up. This woman has endured so much already; she’s losing the fight over fucking surgeons arguing over their own fields of study. I grab cutters from a nurse’s scrub and begin to snip the sutures and tape keeping her moth closed, being careful not to get her skin. The plastic surgeon is by my side going off, but I don’t listen, only instructing a nurse to help me keep her still during her seizure.
Clear liquid vomit immediately begins pouring out of her mouth, her heart rate sky high, and her body rocking with its final stand to live.
“Heart rate needs to come down now.”
Dr. Callahan, the other doctor on call, begins giving orders for those meds in the IV to get her heart under control. We work swiftly trying to get the woman stabilized once again right in the middle of the hall. There’s no time to get her into a room. Our opinions all might differ slightly, but our end goal is the same. We work attentively until she’s stable enough to roll into a room.
“We need a plan. It’s clear she had way more drugs in her system than we thought,” I say, folding my arms.
“She needs to remain in an induced coma until after all her surgeries,” Dr. Callahan suggests.
It doesn’t take us long to agree that’s what must happen. Her jaw is taped back shut as she slips slowly into an induced coma. I’m the last one left in the room monitoring her. I fall back into a chair near her bed, dropping my head deep in thought. If she dies in the next twenty-four hours, no one will be by her side in support. No voice whispering her name and letting her go. She’s truly abandoned like a long-lost thought on the side of a deserted road.
Makes me wonder what choices, life decisions have carved this path for her. Her hand trembles slightly on the bed. In a knee-jerk reaction, I reach up and grab it as gently as I cannot to interrupt the bandages holding her two broken fingers together. I place her palm in mine. She’s just a lonely bird on a lost flight with no help.
“Keep fighting, Bluebird,” I whisper, “I’m not going to let you hide from me anymore. I know it’s you. The woman from the alley. Isn’t it?” I speak, knowing full well I’m asking the question for myself.
I wonder if her family is looking for her. My gut turns sick thinking of all the times I turned a blind eye when I spotted her in the dirty, grimy alleyway. Her sapphire-blue eyes were inconspicuously pleading for help until it was nearly too late.
“Bluebird,” I whisper again, liking the feel of that nickname on my tongue. “Fight hard, and you’ll fly into a new direction in life.”
The door to her room flies open. I place her hand gently on the bed and turn to see Marissa in the doorway. “Ready for rounds?”
“Yeah.” I rise to my feet, slowly getting one more long look at Bluebird before turning my back. “Marissa, make sure transport gets her up to ICU immediately, and could you find my cell phone? I need to call my brother.”
4
Amelia
After the horrible nightmare that was my life, waking up the next morning after the storm of the two of them invading my room and torturing my body, all I’d wish for was the sun. The darkness always frightened me. It still does. Both of those reasons are a trigger for my need for drugs. The shadows disappear, the darkness fades, and the demons of my past escape my thoughts. Everything blurs and blends together. I struggle to wake up or make sense of it, but my eyes are sealed shut.
I’m trapped in the dark now. Running endlessly with nowhere to go. My legs are racing, but my eyes won’t open. What in the hell is going on?
The judge, jury, and executioner are chasing me through a foggy maze. I have nowhere left to hide. Every corner of my mind is a dead end bathed in pitch black hollows. I’m going to die if they find me. Killed by the wickedness of two horrendous men.
“Help,” I try to scream, but there’s no sound.
In desperation, I strain my body forward, only it fights right back. I can’t move.
“What the hell?” I strug
gle again, swearing out of confusion. I can feel my stepdad’s hand creeping up between my legs. He’s so close. Oh, God.
The sound never leaves my lips, but I continue fighting to scream for help even though I know it will never come. The sharp, pointed words are stuck in my throat. Scratching down my spine, bottoming out at the tips of my toes.
“Mom,” I cry.
I have no idea what is happening. Am I dead? Alive? I’m numb everywhere except my mind. It’s racing. Ringing in my ears, fighting to shout out all my fears at once.
“Her eyelids are fluttering. Find Dr. Hartley. He wanted notified immediately when she woke up,” I hear someone say.
“Who is Dr. Hartley?”
My ears work. The sudden and steady beat of monitors fills the background. Footsteps are slamming around.
My throat tightens more. My skull rattles and my tongue feels an acidic burn when I try to swallow. Everything rushes back in a flurry. My home in the alley, drugs, the man with the watch, food, Ricky.
Oh, my God.
He found me. Punched my face, his men crushed my fingers, and then the knife. I fight to move my arm, reminding me of all the pain. He sliced my fresh. Stuffed my nipple down my throat, and I was choking, gagging, fighting for my next gulp of air...
I’m in a hospital. No, no, no. I can’t be here. They will find me and take me back to their house. Change will take place. The men will be entering my bedroom nightly with my mother not doing her job.
“Shhh. Stop moving, Amelia,” a sweet, tender voice whispers in my ear.
A solace of comfort. It’s odd and foreign but soothing all the same.
“Sweetie, two weeks isn’t nearly enough time for what you’ve been through. You need to stay still. You have several broken ribs. A wired jaw, broken fingers, and stitches everywhere.” Her delicate hand pats my shoulder. I think my lips are moving.
“You won’t be able to talk. Your jaw is wired, but just know that I hear every word you cannot say. You are safe.”
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