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The shop and a certain liberated stalker were the last things on my mind.
As the ambulance sped towards the hospital, I sat beside Samantha who was securely strapped into the gurney. I wanted to hold her hand. I didn’t. I wasn’t sure if that would hurt her more.
The flashing lights and the siren might as well have been background music on low volume. I heard none of it. It was all the worried and mixed-up thoughts running through my head that were playing loudly.
Unanswered questions raced through my head. Who could have done this? Why would someone want to harm Samantha? Her stalker? That’s what Davie thought.
Why does he need to come back and come again? How come they let him out? What could the technicality possibly have been?
Howbadis my darling hurt?
The paramedic in the back of the ambulance with us worked non-stop and monitored her condition. Checking her vitals. Asking me questions about the incident at the same time.
Samantha remained unconscious, her always light, bright complexion paler than ever but grey now.
Worry ate away at my gut. As I ran in beside the gurney, an onslaught of unfamiliar smells filled the air as we entered the emergency room. Even in the middle of the night, the place wasn’t empty. I didn’t have time till later to consider that it was my first time in a hospital ER.
Once there, doctors and nurses took over, whisking Samantha away for examinations. I felt helpless. I paced.
I thought, “I’ve just found her. I’ve found My One. And I’m helpless now. I’m helpless toprotecther!” A knot of anger at myself tightened in my stomach.
Fear. What would the doctors say?
Frustration. I wasn’t with her and Ineededto be there!
Jerry arrived at the hospital while Samantha was elsewhere having some test or other done. I brought him up to date, and he explained that Davie stayed back, “He wanted to take a million pictures, speak to the police, file a report. And, probably, kick a hissy fit to the cops about why the bastard is free and running wild after Sammie again.”
Davie arrived maybe an hour and a half later. The man’s expression was grim, to say the least. I felt Davie’s anger as he tried to rein it in. We all shared what we knew.
Davie gave me a few more details about the stalker's release.
I fretted, “This is not anything I’ve faced before. But how can Samantha keep opening the shop if this guy keeps barging in and doing life-threatening crap like this?”
More than that, I worried that I wasn’t protecting her the way I should be. Not only it looked like the justice system for failing us. Well? The three of us were not doing much good, either.
Another hour passed with no news. Finally, a doctor approached, “Billings?” The three of us flagged him down.
My heart raced as I listened to the diagnoses. It appeared she’d landed hard on her right side. Samantha had a worrisome concussion with a few brain bleeders.
What? Her brain isbleeding?! The doctor saw me and reassured us all (only somewhat) with a more understandable explanation.
CRAP! It was serious all right.
She also had three compressed ribs (not broken or cracked) and lots of bruises that were still developing all over one side of her face and body. The doctor explained that it wasn’t just the skin but also the muscles that were bruised. All of that was probably from how hard she’d landed on cement on her side.
Samantha’s right arm was broken, and her shoulder had dislocated as she landed. Her right calf was broken.
SHIT!
The doctor gave us this assessment, “Even when she’s released, she’ll be in a wheelchair for a while. Because she has a broken arm on the same side as the broken leg, she can’t use crutches.”
We thought about that for a minute. Samantha wasnotgoing to like that!
The doctor concluded by assuring us she would be monitored all through the morning and, really, as long as needed to reassure them that the brain bleeders were under control. Andno, it wouldn’t be wise to see her just yet. Treatment and tests would take a while, and she was out of it.
In the ER waiting room, I realized with a jolt that what I had with Samantha wasn’t just a passing romantic fling. What I felt was a deep connection. Like someone I’d waited for my whole life and only realized it when she …
Not thinking it. Not saying it. Not going thereat all.She was alive. She’d get well.
