Page 96 of Hating the Boss

I felt my eyes prick with tears.

Where was everyone?

I felt utterly alone in the hospital room. I tried to call out for someone. Anyone. But my throat was dry. And sore. So sore.

I remembered Angela’s hand clamped around it, squeezing so tight. I closed my eyes tightly, trying to shut out her face. Those navy eyes bore into me, frantic and wild. It felt like I was back there, against the brick wall as the air surrounded me, but wouldn’t fill my lungs. I had never been so scared or helpless.

I touched my throat now, willing myself to breathe. Reminding myself that I could. I was okay. My fingers gently ran across the sensitive skin, and I winced at my own feather-like touch. I could only imagine what I looked like. Red and purple. Bruised and broken.

“Ahh, you’re awake,” said a soft voice.

It startled me and I snapped my eyes open to see a nurse standing at the door.

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” she said, holding her hands up.

I suddenly burst into tears, letting it all out in front of her. She rushed toward me and gently put her hand on my shoulder.

“There, there,” she said soothingly. “You’re okay, sweetheart.”

She must have been my age, maybe even younger, but she had the nurturing ability to comfort me as a grandmother would. I cried a moment longer, before pulling myself together.

“Thank you,” I croaked, finding it difficult to talk.

“Shhh,” she said, placing a finger against her lips. “Would you like some water?”

I nodded eagerly.

She smiled and slipped out of the room for a moment before returning with a water bottle. She unscrewed the top and handed the cool plastic bottle to me. I eagerly took a sip, but choked on the liquid.

“Easy now,” the nurse said as I continued to sputter.

I nodded and took a smaller sip.

“You’ve been through the ringer,” she said. “Just take a little extra care, especially with that throat of yours. How is it feeling?”

“Sore,” I whispered, taking another smaller sip of water.

It felt cold and good and painful all at once as it slipped down my throat.

“I can imagine, but we will get you fixed up in here. You’re at Mount Sinai, the best hospital in New York City,” she assured me.

“Thank you,” I said softly. “Is the baby…is my baby…”

I couldn’t get the words out, though I had so many questions to ask.

“The doctor will be in shortly to see you,” said the nurse with a reassuring smile that bore no answers to my questions. She slipped out the door, leaving me alone again. I didn’t want to be alone. My adrenaline began to kick in again. Fears flooding back to me.

What if Angela followed me here?

I tried to calm myself down, reminding myself that the cops had arrested her. There was no way she could have gotten away. She didn’t know where I was. I was safe.

As much as the thoughts were reassuring, they were hard to believe. I was still in fight or flight mode.

The monitor next to me began beeping faster. Louder.

I tried to breathe, but that was even harder than trying to calm my thoughts.

The door to the room opened and in walked a man in a white coat and a look of mild concern on his face as he looked from me to the monitor that was working overtime beside me.