Page 2 of Protecting Hailey

A decaf vanilla latte with oat milk

He ordered the same thing every time, but being this early in the morning, I had expected it to be regular coffee instead of decaf.

I faced the front and surveyed the black and green menu posted on the wall. I always tried something different each time.

The front door chimed and a young man wearing a yellow college hoodie and blue shorts walked in. He was probably in his mid-twenties, just like me. I returned my gaze to the menu.

When he reached the back of the line behind me, he sighed.

“I don’t fucking believe it. That stupid bitch,” he muttered low under his breath.

The venom in his voice sent chills down my back, and I rubbed the goosebumps along my arms.

He shuffled his feet behind me, and his restlessness made me just as jittery. Fortunately, the line moved quickly, and I was the next one to order.

A few more minutes and I could get away from this creep.

He stomped behind me. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

The barrister’s voice made me jump. “Hi, can I take your order?”

“Yes,” I said, relieved to get moving. “I’d like a large decaf vanilla latte with oat milk and no sugar. And a small caramel latte with lots of foam.”

“That’ll be $12.85.”

With my card already in hand, I tapped it against the machine. “Thank you,” I said. Then, spotting the wooden utensils by the cash register to my right, I picked up a spoon to scoop up my foam.

I moved over a step to wait for my drinks.

“Hi, can I take your order?”

I stared straight ahead to avoid making eye contact with the shifty stranger.

“Sir? Sir? What—”

The woman screamed, and I snapped my head back, but a streak of pain shot through me. A throbbing pulse hammered at my shoulder and a warm stream trickled from the spot down my back.

“That’s for what you said about Kendra, bitch,” the man sneered, then ran out the door.

My legs went numb, and I dropped to my knees. My whole body trembled as I slowly reached behind me to touch the throbbing in my shoulder. Something was there. Running my fingertips along the object, my lips trembled when I realized a wooden knife protruded from my shoulder. He had stabbed me in front of a room full of witnesses and got away.

My bodyguard stood beside me and tried to remove the knife, but I cried out in pain.

“Someone call an ambulance,” he shouted. “Hurry.”

A blue haze formed around the periphery of my vision, and my stomach flipped. Using both hands to cover my mouth, I begged. Please don’t throw up.

Everyone in the coffee shop surrounded me. Some consoled me and told me I would be okay, while others took pictures with their phones.

I didn’t know how much time passed until a paramedic crouched down beside me. “You’re going to be fine. We’re taking you to the hospital. Can you walk to the ambulance, or should we get a stretcher?” Her sympathetic eyes calmed me.

I shook my head. “No. I can walk.”

She held my uninjured shoulder and elbow, helping me stand. “Take your time.”

I nodded and swallowed another wave of nausea. Using my back muscles to stand intensified the pain. But I bit down on my lip and took one step at a time toward the ambulance.

Once inside, the paramedic laid me down. “I’m going to set you up with an IV. Close your eyes and rest for now.”

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