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I hang up and open my door, rushing to the back as fast as one leg will take me. Kyle doesn’t respond.
“Help me!” I scream at the top of my lungs as two people fly out the front door. “Help me, please. Save him! You have to save him.”
They shuffle me out of the way and use a portable sling thing and slide him out of the back seat as I crumple onto the scalding asphalt parking lot.
“Save him. God, please save him.”
They rush away with my therapist, lifesaver, and best friend as I sit, collapsed in a parking spot, praying my day doesn’t get worse.
I don’t know how long I lie there. Long enough that the veterinary crew comes back to check since I’m not inside.
“No allergies. Do whatever it takes. I know that means money. I don’t care. Just save him.”
“Livy?”
“I’ll be fine right here.”
“Come on.” Strong arms scoop me up and take me into the clinic, through the lobby, and into a patient room.
I sit on the chair in there sobbing, fading in and out from pain, not caring about my body or that some asshole violated the sanctity of my home.
“Livy, what happened?”
I don’t even know who I’m talking to. A woman’s voice is soothing but not unhurried.
“An intruder this morning. I need to call the cops. I’m so tired of the cops,” I add, dissolving into more tears.
“Yes. This is Ellen Livingston at Arabel Veterinary Clinic. We have a client in our office who needs an ambulance and police please.”
“Not an ambulance.” I’m not leaving.
“Paramedics and police please.” She rattles off the address. “She has a black eye and contusions on her hands and arms. There’s a lot of blood and a stab wound. We’re wrapping and administering ice.” There’s a considerable pause. “She brought her dog in instead.” After another long pause, she continues. “You can ask her that question.”
“Livy, paramedics are on their way. I’ll be back with some ice.”
“Kyle?” Dread and fear war in my stomach, and I fight the urge to vomit.
“Is in great hands. He’s a fighter, just like his mama.”
The door opens and closes, and I let myself slide to the floor and curl into the fetal position. Nothing is comfortable with my face swelling, my sinuses backed from crying, and a leg that I’d saw off if it meant it hurt less.
The door opens again, and the soft voice continues, “Here’s some ice for your eye. One of the doctors will give you a shot of lidocaine. This isn’t technically legal, so if you wouldn’t mention it, that would be great.”
A hand grips my leg below the knee, and I reflexively pull back. A sharp pinprick goes deep into the muscle, and I lose the fight not to cry out.
“In a matter of minutes, that will feel better.”
The far door opens and closes as the one nearer to me opens and a flurry of activity starts.
People surround me. Two medics question me. Police officers or sheriff’s deputies stand sentry at the doorway as if I’m Usain Bolt and going to make a break for it. Don’t they know Kyle is here? I’m not leaving without him.
“What hurts?”
My heart. “My leg hurts most. Then my eye.”
“What happened?”
“An intruder. He hurt… Kyle.” My voice breaks on the last word, and my sobs begin again.
