Outside The Ropes (Published Series)

3: Small Kindness

THE DARKNESS HELD NO PEACE, ONLY PAIN. A liquid fire ran through me and surrounded me, consuming and destroying. I didn't know if I was still being attacked or who it was this time: strangers, foster parents, or bullies from the group home. It all bled together. Past. Present. Pain. I didn't even know if I was lying down. Everything burned, and the dark prison was terrifying.

I struggled to open my eyes, to see what was going on, but I was trapped in my body. My mind, long conditioned for survival, wouldn't shut off and fought for awareness. Muffled sounds reached me. Someone yelled something about an ambulance. I had to get up. Now.

My eyes cracked open. A shadowy form was above me, patting the air surrounding me, but I don't think his hands made contact.

"No," I croaked out.

The figure jumped back, and then leaned in towards me. "What? Just rest, you're safe now. You're going to be okay."

I moved through the strong grip of pain and sat up. The man in front of me yelled to someone else for help as I attempted to stand. My legs were shaky and ached, but I couldn't go to the hospital. I couldn't afford those bills. I needed to get to Nan's. I pushed his hands away as he grabbed for me, but the movement was slow and my arms were too weak.

"Stop, you're hurt. You need to sit down. The ambulance will be here soon," the panicked man said as another one joined him.

It was like being submerged in mud. Sounds were muffled and movements were difficult. Talking was near impossible; something was wrong with my mouth.

"You need stitches, but you'll be fine," a new man said to me. He was calm as he turned to his friend. "I think she's going into shock."

They were on either side of me, blocking my escape. My head was heavy. It swayed on my shoulders, making everything around me disjointed.

The anxious man was wearing shorts. Way too cold for that. And his composed friend's shiny head needed a hat.

Thick, dark blood pooled in the spot I had been. Was that mine? I tried to bring my hand to my face, but a shot of pain radiated from my shoulder. That arm wouldn't move. It made me light headed.

The other hand worked, and I lifted it, but didn't recognize the feel of my face. It was sticky and lumpy. Disgusted, I pulled my hand away and studied the blood that now covered it. That couldn't all be mine; it was too much.

"Catch her," someone yelled.

I was sat against a brick wall, shaking and unable to stop.

A jacket covered me and a pair of arms held me, stilling me.

A voice spoke from far away, "You are going into shock, but you'll be fine. Everything's fine. Rest now. Rest."

This time, the darkness wasn't as terrifying.

***

"How is your pain?" My nurse was too speedy. I couldn't keep track of her as she moved from one end of the bed to the other. She checked my monitors, IV's, and then wrote something on the chart she placed on the table.

I nodded, but don't think she saw. She probably didn't care for the answer anyways. She pulled open the blinds, and I closed my eyes against the bright daylight streaking through.

"The police are here and have some questions for you. They will be in shortly." She zoomed out of the room, and sure enough, two officers in uniform stepped through the open door.

"Ms. Regan Sommers, how are you feeling?" the female police officer asked.

Of the two, she was the one I would trust to protect me on the street. She was solid, tall, and looked every bit of an authority. Her partner was a sad case. His tiny frame drowned in the uniform; he looked like a kid playing dress-up.