Page 151 of Rome: The Ballerina

Th…

Blackness surrounded me.

“Baby!” Chemistry’s voice was the very last thing I heard as my body collided with the wooden planks beneath me.

In.

Nonstop movement unsealed my eyelids. Bright lights resealed them.

“A fucking doctor!” Saint’s voice rang out.

He was near.

“You, my nigga,” Chemistry barked.

The familiar sound of a gun cocking startled me.

“I will shoot everybody in this bitch if somebody doesn’t stop what the fuck they’re doing and see about my baby,” he promised, calmly.

“Starting with you, ma’am. With the big wig,” Rugger breathed out slowly. “Up. Now.”

“You don’t have to do that, sir. Dr. West. What seems to be the problem?”

Out.

In.

There was stillness.

Coolness.

Silence.

And, family.

Every member of my family. I could feel them near. Eyes penetrating the soft mattress I was on top of.

“I want a full workup, Doc. No shortcuts. Eliminate nothing. I have my suspicions but I need to be certain. Run everything.”

“That’s going to cos– Uh– What insurance do you h–”

“This–” Rugger said.

“Rugs,” my mother chastised. “Put it away.”

“Does it look like money is an issue?” Chemistry asked.

“Do whatever needs to be done. Money is not a problem. And, don’t let your level of service reflect a man who doesn’t understand that now that it has been stated. Treat her like your finest patient in this motherfucker. Because, frankly, she is,” Saint expressed. “Whatever needs to be done. You feel me?”

“Yes. Yes. Of course.”

Out.

In.

Quiet.

Like the dead of the night.

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