Page 6 of Nothing To Lose
"The officer? What'd you tell him? I mean, w-what did you see?"
"Not much, unfortunately. The guy ran, and I went straight to you. I'm sorry."
With a breath of relief, I relax a little. "Why would you be sorry?"
"I could have chased him down, caught him or at the very least gotten a better look at him."
After helping me settle back in a more comfortable sitting position, Aisha takes my belongings off the chair and gestures for Isaac to sit down. He glances at me warily, but takes the seat. The nurse pats him gently on the shoulder. "Well, I for one think you did the right thing. Might have saved his life."
"I don't know about?—"
"Thank you," I interrupt. "For what you did. And for staying with me. You don't have to, though. I'm okay." I’m a long way from being okay, but he doesn’t need to be worrying about some stranger he found outside.
"Have you called anyone yet?"
"For what?" I drawl, unable to hold back a yawn.
Isaac's brow furrows, making his eyes look even darker. "To be here with you. To take you home and take care of you?"
"Oh. Yeah. I’ll do that. Of course."
I hadn't thought of that. If I call my dad, he'll want to know what happened. I could give him the same story about getting mugged, but that'll just encourage him to try to move me back home. I live alone. Embarrassingly, I haven't made many friends this past year, so there's really no one for me to call.
"I'll be fine. You don't need to worry about me. You can go home if you like. I know you must be tired."
Part of me wants him to go so I can wallow without being watched so closely. I feel like he can see under my skin, read all my secrets like they're projected across my forehead. A bigger part of me wants him to stay, because I don't have anyone else. And I feel safe with him here. Logically, I know I'm projecting some kind of knight in shining armor fantasy onto him because he saved me. I'm not a damsel in distress, but I can't deny the sense of calm that has settled over me since he walked in.
"I'll stay a while longer." I think I hear him say as my eyes close and I drift off to sleep.
* * *
I'm notsure how long it's been when I awake to the blood pressure cuff squeezing my arm.
"Sorry," Aisha whispers. "I need to get your vitals before shift change. I hoped you'd sleep through it."
"That's okay. What time is it?"
"Almost seven. How's your head?"
"Fine," I lie. It's throbbing. "Seven in the morning?"
She nods. "You've been out for a few hours."
Stretching my neck to look behind her, I notice the chair Isaac was sitting in is now empty. A strange pang of something unsettling sits low in my stomach. Disappointment, maybe? Aisha looks behind her at the empty chair. Before she can say anything about my missing friend, I tell her I need to use the restroom. My bladder is killing me.
After getting my IV set up on a rolling stand, Aisha helps me stand slowly. The stitches on the back of my thigh pull and my limbs feel heavier than usual, but I'm able to stand without much difficulty. Thankfully, the bathroom isn't far. Exhaustion and my bruised ribs make every step difficult. I have to sit to do my business in a weird hat thing so they can collect my urine and check it for blood. Afterwards, I stand at the sink and try to avoid my reflection while I scrub at my hands. Dried blood is caked around my nail beds. I get too engrossed in the task of cleaning the stubborn stains from my fingers and accidentally look up, taking in my reflection for the first time.
My usually dark blond hair is matted with dirt and blood. It’s greasy despite having been washed barely twelve hours ago. My skin is mottled with shades of blue, purple, and red. The left side of my face is unrecognizable, my eye swollen shut. There are marks where his fingers dug into my neck, proof of his hands on me. I run my fingers over the dark bruises, closing my eyes against the barrage of images that slice through my mind like being stabbed in the brain with an ice pick.
Tightness around my neck. I can't breathe, and there's so much pressure, like my face might pop like a balloon. Something warm and wet trickles into my already swelling eye. My vision grows dark, blotting out the man putting all his weight on my neck, teeth gritted in determination. Anger. Finally, one of my flailing limbs hits something, jostling him enough to push him off me. Dizzy and sucking in breaths that feel like inhaling glass, I try to get up, run away, do anything.
My ribs catch his shoulder when I'm tackled into the side of a dumpster. The sound reverberates in my brain like a bell ringing.
"You think you're better than me?"
"Tyler? Are you okay in there?"
I can't even feel it when his fist meets my face again. Kicking blindly, I struggle to put space between us. He crowds me against the cold metal. The smell of alcohol on his breath is more rancid than the garbage.My head flings back, cracking against his. He grunts and falls back, holding his face in his hands. Reeling, I stumble away, but I'm not fast enough, and my vision is tunneling.
