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He leaves. Eventually a doctor comes in. He pulls up my X-ray on a screen. My eyes won’t focus. It’s freezing in here. He introduces himself. Terms like shock and skull fracture are thrown around.
He says other things too. Most of them I don’
t hear. What I do hear are intermittent voices chattering in my head. A feedback loop on repeat.
Give me your phone. Wallet. Kick him again. Do you want to die?
When I open my eyes, the doctor is pointing. My ribs are bruised but not broken. There’s a fracture to my skull behind my left ear. They want to keep me overnight for observation. They’ll give me something for pain, if I want. Do I have any questions?
I shake my head.
Do you want to die?
I don’t sleep.
There are too many nurses coming and going, checking on things. I don’t feel safe here. I don’t feel safe anywhere.
If I am going to die, it’s going to be on my terms.
When I close my eyes, I see it play out over and over. It’s like I’m hovering above and not the guy on the ground getting the shit kicked out of him. There are three of them. One kicks me repeatedly. I cover my head with my hands. Hurry. Get his wallet. Phone. Keys.
Everything is muffled. Everything plays in slow motion.
I try to recall what else was said. Details like what they were wearing. I can’t. But they have my keys, my phone, and my wallet, so it’d better come to me soon.
I make a mental note of things that need to be taken care of. Locks that need to be changed. Credit cards that need to be canceled. I need to get out of here. There will be no good deed today. I need to get back to the lab. I need to make arrangements for my phone to be wiped clean. I need to hear her voice.
They took even that from me. Whoever has done this will pay, no matter how random it might have been.
When I open my eyes, someone is standing over me. I startle before I realize it’s a nurse. Pain shoots through my torso; I feel it all the way to my fingertips. She offers a knowing look. “Just need to record your vitals.”
“What time is it?”
“Three forty-five or so.”
“I need to get out of here.”
“We’ll see about that. In the meantime, I called your next of kin.”
Perfect.
Another calming smile. “Your scan was not completely conclusive. It’s possible there’s a bleed in your brain. Basic protocol is that we’re prepared for an emergency.”
I don’t respond. I’m too busy considering what lies ahead. I’d incorrectly assumed this was the worst thing that could happen. Perhaps I was wrong.
Sleep comes in fits and spurts. The morphine helps, but the pain is there on the fringes, where it hangs out and rears its head, just when I think it’s gone for good. At some point in the night, I awaken to a man in business attire standing at my bed. Maybe this is death coming to meet me. Maybe this is the devil himself. Whoever he is, he hasn’t come alone. Behind him, a woman is seated in the chair, staring at her phone. “Hello, Elliot,” he says rocking on his heels.
He knows my name. Of course, he does. I can’t place his face, but morphine isn’t helping with my focus. I don’t like the look of him.
“I wish we’d gotten the chance to meet under better circumstances—”
“It appears we haven’t,” I say, cutting to the chase. “What can I do for you?”
“Oh, you can do a great deal for me…for us…actually,” he replies, gesturing toward the woman, who stands. “But then, we can do a great deal for you as well.”
The woman takes two quick steps to reach my bedside, where they stand shoulder to shoulder. “We’re here to offer you protection,” she says, and my eyes shift toward the man.
“Who are you? And what makes you think I need protection.”
