The Thief Who Saved My Life

Chapter 20

When the pain had mostly subsided and the tears dried up, I sat up in my seat and focused my eyes outside. We had been driving for a while, and none of this looked familiar.

"We're going to the ER," Brandon answered my unasked question.

"I'm fine," I said.

Brandon glanced over at me briefly. "You are about as far from fine as any one human can be."

My lips twitched, but I said nothing. He was right, I was a mess.

"I don't need the hospital."

Again, he looked at me wearing an expression of confusion.

"You screamed when I sat you down." Had I? I opened my mouth to refute while reaching for the seatbelt and gasped as the pain renewed in my side. "The emergency room it is."

We lapsed back into silence for the rest of the ride.

There were so many things I wanted to say that I didn't even know where to start. I wanted to hate him, scream at him. I wanted to thank him. I wanted to explain myself—to defend myself. But I couldn't bring myself to break the silence. When we rolled to a stop into the parking lot of the emergency room, I finally found my voice.

"You can leave," I said when he started to unbuckle and push his door open. "I'll find a way home."

He let out a humorless laugh. "That's not happening. I have a pretty face, I wanna keep it that way."

Brandon escorted me into the waiting room and walked me to the counter. The nurse at the desk for check in looked to be in her forties. She didn't smile as we walked in, just said, "fill out this paperwork, bring it back up," and handed me a clipboard. Forcing a smile, I took the clip board and made my way to one of the empty seats. I didn't know my insurance information at all. I left half the sheet blank from the information I didn't know and then moved on to the next pages, signing without reading whatever they wanted me to. When the forms were completed, I shifted to stand and take them back but Brandon beat me to it. He jumped up and took the clipboard from me.

"You don't even like me," I said when he sat back down. Brandon only shrugged.

Several long, silent minutes later, they called me back and after having me change into a revealing hospital gown and taking my vitals, the tech insisted I sit in a wheelchair and rolled me down on the long halls for x-rays. I cringed in pain as they manhandled me to get my body at the right angles for the x-rays. The technicians forcing my body into awkward painful positions muttered apologies each time I exhaled sharply and then went behind their shield to take the x-ray.

The process seemed to take forever, but not even half and hour passed before they had me checked into a hospital room and began dripping saline into the iv placed in my hand.

"How are you?" A doctor that didn't look much older than me walked into the room holding a clipboard with my information.

"Wonderful," I said sarcastically.

The doctor chuckled. "Yeah, not a great question. How be we get you something to help with the pain?"

I nodded with a grateful smile. "Thank you."

After introducing himself, he explained that even though the x-rays would offer up hard evidence, he still need to examine my rib cage. After more poking and prodding and a few encouraging comments from the doctor reminding me that I was "doing great" and he was "almost finished," the doctor stepped back frowning.

"Evangeline," he said concern lacing his voice. "The bruising on your back and side isn't fresh. When did this happen?"

"It's been a couple weeks," I said. "I've been taking lots of Tylenol to help, but my friend accidentally dropped me tonight and here we are."