Page 16 of My Damaged Protector

What if they died before the cops arrived?

What if, what if, what if.

I have to go in

Without hesitation, I kick the door down with my foot and burst inside a pitch-black room.

Whatever movement that was going on before I entered ceases, and I squint my eyes, waiting for a few seconds to let them get acquainted with the darkness before they settle on the two individuals in the room. They are stealing the electronics.

Oh boy.

The two men in masks stare at me, both dead serious, waiting for me to attack so they can give me the best beating of my life.

The way I see this, I could turn back like a coward and go do what I should have done, which is to call the cops. Or I stand my ground and try to hold my weight against them. The odds are clearly against me, though, because one of the men is my size while the other seems to have more muscle than his friend and I combined.

As if they could read my thoughts, the big guy sneers at me and then speaks.

“What is it going to be?”

Well, I guess I am getting a beating.

Sucker for pain, I know.

I attack first, going for the guy that's my size. Big mistake. He lands a punch in my face before I can even throw one at him, making me lose my balance, and that's how my chances against them move from fifty to zero.

The other guy joins in, and they both start to beat the living daylight out of me, some of the punches hitting me in the face.

I try to hold my weight against them, doling out consequent punches to both where I know it'll have impact, but there's only so much I can do with the two of them against me.

Eventually, the sound of cops arriving reaches my ears, and I swear, hearing a police siren has never sounded so good.

God bless whoever called the cops.

Everything else after that happens so fast.

The cops come in, apprehend the guys. The medics come for me, and it isn’t until the lights come back on that I realize the extent to which I've gone this time. The whole room is a mess, the guys don’t look so good. My whole body hurts.

If Richard sees me like this, he's going to keep me off the team forever. Maybe I do need the time off anyway.

As a medic guides me to lie on the stretcher and wheels out of the motel, all I can think of is how easily this could have been avoided.

Why didn't I call the police?

Why didn't I walk away when I saw that the odds were clearly not in my favor?

Why was I suspended from my job?

I'll give you one answer. Just one word.

Justin.

Who is Justin?

He was my younger brother, and that's all I'm saying about that.

As I am carted into the ambulance, Susie, the motel receptionist, comes out fussing all over me and apologizing to me for not calling the cops in time and saying all that happened is due to her carelessness.

I can barely speak, so I don't waste any energy trying to tell her otherwise. If she wants to feel guilty about something she had no power over, who am I to dissuade her?

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