Ashes Remain

by Alethea Stauron

  Drake is contorted. Motionless in a splattered mass of his own blood. Unconscious.

  David hardly believes what he’s done. He’s gone too far and hearing the echoes around him. “Oh, my God,” Neil said.

  Frightened women and screaming children shrink David’s ego to mere inches. He’s bottomed out to be no better than the filth lying on the ground. David glances over at his terrified wife’s expression, “I’m sorry,” his voice cracked toward her.

  ◆◆◆

  Josephine hears screaming and yelling. Not laughter. Certainly nothing she’s accustomed to. Her mind tries to place what she’s hearing. Violence. She swings open the bathroom door, and worries for the children. Maybe a child fell from over the cliffside. Not a person remains inside the house. An accident, she thinks, the children. But it’s not children, as she soon found out when she gazed upon the scene. A bloody trail leads to a crowd standing between David and Drake, keeping their guard from further injuries.

  She invited him. Promised him. Drake’s blood is splattered across the stones. She had a plan. And David’s hands are covered in red evidence of failure that would’ve freed her. Her eyes meet his. David turns his jaw downward, presenting his heavy guilt with the drop of his head like a child. David musters, “Lil’ sis… I —

  “No,” she screeched over him and blocking out anything else said. There’s nothing to say. A victim lies unconscious on the ground from a domestic violent dispute. She cowers down near Drake, landing on her knees. Blinded by panic of a few minutes left alone. She had only walked out for a few minutes. A few minutes to gather her thoughts. Just one night. This one thing. But… a sour web has been weaved. Her words are silent but those nearby hear what she says, “Help me.” Her lips signal a mournful cry, “Help,” ripping at the hearts of men around her. She gasps and then her screaming cuts through the air, “Somebody help me!”

  Three gentlemen surround her and jump over to help Drake, untwisting his contorted body. Neil directs them on how to carefully move his broken limb without further damaging it. They lift him cautiously. Each guilt-ridden from their own share of wishing the beating on him. Josephine manages to make it to her truck, followed by an entourage of helpers laying Drake’s motionless body into the back seat.

  Josephine’s thoughts beat against her brain louder than an old engine on the highway. Moaning from the back seat responds to muscles seizing up from broken bones. Followed by wailing, as Drake slowly awakens. He pulls his blood covered lips apart, “My arm —

  “We’re almost there,” trying to calm him, “Right up here.”

  “Where,” he screamed, clasping his arm against his body. His feet kick the door, “Where ya taking me!?”

  “Drake, we’re almost to the hospital. I’m pulling in right now.”

  “Don’t take me to the hospital!”

  “You have a broken arm.”

  “Help me. Make it stop. Oh, God, it hurts so bad.” His screaming pushes her makeup to run down her cheeks. She jumps out at the emergency area and grabs extra hands to transport him. Drake falls in and out of consciousness. They rush him into surgery and causes her such distress that she forgets everything. Including, valet parking re-parking her vehicle along with her phone inside.

  ◆◆◆

  Drake lies in a hospital bed, exhausted by night shift nurses carrying on at the nurse’s station. He’s visited by a morning charge nurse with a kind smile. “My name’s Emily. I’m the charge nurse today. Our nurses are doing report and yours will be in here shortly.” She makes eye contact, trying to recognize if he’s sneering at her or cramping from surgery. “Did I wake you?”

  “You can only wake someone, if they’re sleeping first.” He stares at the pump next to him, “I think this thing is empty or my button’s not working.”

  “That’s powerful pain medicine. It’s not empty yet. You had a bad fall.” She changes focus, “They say… you fell down a flight of stairs. Are you a skater?”

  “Yeah…” his eyes roll toward a window, “clumsy, I guess. I’d rather not talk about it,” he said. “Did my girlfriend go home?” His jaw scarcely opens, “Did she say anything?”

  “If she’s the one that’s been wearing the same shirt and gray coat for two or three days. I think she’s in the lobby making coffee. Again.” Emily picks up a couple pieces of blue rubber trash, peeking over, watching him messaging the puffiness of his swollen eyelid, and readjusting his head bandages to quit poking his nostril. She says, “I didn’t know that was your girlfriend. She stays quiet most the time. Been waiting for you to wake up enough to talk. You’re lucky. She’s very concerned for you.”

  “Not yet. But she soon will be.” He lifts his stubbed chin up toward the lights, “And please don’t tell her, or anybody for that matter that I fell down the stairs.” He turns shaggy hair toward her, crunching his pillow under his ear, “It’s embarrassing and I wanna go home.”

  “Only your nurses and doctors will know of your incident, sir. Patient confidentiality is one of our major concerns. But it’s up to the doctors to discharge you.”

  His bloodshot eyes twirl away from her, “Whatever. Nobody holds me hostage, lady.”

  “I understand that. They say you woke up last night… haven’t got a word from you in two days. They’ve been trying to get your pain down. At least you’re not screaming anymore. I’m glad the surgeries went well.”

  He mumbles.

  “What’s that, sir?”

  He says nothing, staring at her dry erase marker, as she writes her name on a whiteboard. “Well, your new nurse will be in here soon,” Emily tells him, “We hope you enjoy your stay. Let me know if there’s anything I can get for you.”

  “Yeah. Pain medicine and some sleep, charge nurse lady.” His eyes peeled back, slapping his head bandage against the pillow, “It hurts so bad… I’ve been up all-night hearing them chatter outside. I’m in here shaking from pain. Almost seeing things.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” She observes him guarding his cast, “What would you rate your pain as?”

  “A million,” his head slings back, “The same as last time my nurse brought my pain meds almost two hours late. She just left me writhing in agony. She’s out there yakking it up, and I’m in here dying.” He glares at her and points at his deep bruises over his jaw, “How my supposed to get out of here? Y’all ain’t giving me anything, and keep’n me up all night? I’m worse here than I am at home.”

  Her cheeks flatten, “I’ll inform your nurse,” and leaves the room. Emily stands at the nurse’s station, eyeballing oncoming shifts caring for their daily work. She glances up at the glowing screens, studying patient charts for the new lucky nurse coming in. From the corner of her eye, she sees the gray coat that’s been pacing the halls the last couple of days. Josephine sips a cup of improvised coffee steaming in her hand. She has tired eyes and speaking with a dayshift nurse waiting on report for her load of patients. Emily shakes her head, “Poor girl,” said under her breath. Josephine spots the charge nurse conjuring a sympathetic smile, and Emily calls her over, “Ma’am.” Her fingers roll with her curling nose and fake grin coaxing Josephine closer.

  “Yes,” Josephine whispered.

  “My name’s Emily. I’m the charge nurse for this unit today.”

  “Good morning.” Eyes convey wonder for the conversation. “Am I not supposed to be up here?”

  “What room are you here for?”

  “Seven-twenty-one,” she gasps, “Is he…” pausing for breath.

  “I assure you… nobody in seven-twenty-one has passed on today. That patient has plenty of fight in him.”

  That’s unfortunate, Lucius thinks.

  Emily’s eyes scope around, trying to diplomatically place her next words, “Are you familiar with him? Or what brought him in?”

  “He didn’t tell you what happened,” slightly interrogating for any pressed charges. “They just told me he woke up last night. I didn’t see anything,” her voice shuddered.


  “I’m sorry…” Emily huffed, “but patient information is confidential. I was simply asking to make small talk with you.” Emily’s face is solid, speaking with straight lips, “He’s delightful, your boy in there.” Her shoulders drop, “Let us know if you need anything. Or if you’ll be willing to give any statements on his behalf, so we can better serve him. He won’t disclose any medical history. It’s his right to have autonomy, but the information helps us to serve him better.”

  Josephine presses a warm cup against her chest, “Yes, ma’am.”

  Emily watches Josephine slouch toward the room, allowing a subtle shake of her head. “Poor girl,” she sits in her chair, “Poor, poor girl.”

  ◆◆◆

  Josephine taps on the door, “Drake,” her voice sounded shy.

  “Jojo…” grabbing at his cast and grunting as soon as he sees her. “Get my nurse?”

  “She’s taking report. It’s shift change. My goodness. Are you alright?”

  “I can’t talk,” squirming his legs and making bundles with the blanket around his thighs. “Sit down. Give me a minute.”

  Josephine sits in a mauve chair against the window. She counts nearly a dozen times of watching him press the call light button repeatedly. She squeezes her coffee a little more, dripping concern from her eyes. “I can get them for you.”

  A chipper voice answers over an intercom, “Can I help you?”

  “I need my medicine, please?” He pleads, “I’m sorry to bother y’all, but they forgot about me,” and whimpers. “Somebody bring me my medicine. I’m hurting so bad. I can’t live like this.”

  “I’ll let your nurse know,” the unit clerk answered.

  Josephine places her coffee over the windowsill and stands to her feet, “Oh, Drake.”

  He rolls his wrist for Josephine to come closer, “Jojo, hold my hand. I’m hurt’n so bad.” She rushes to his side, taking his hand. He hunches sideways in a fetal position, placing her hand over his forehead and taped surgical gauze. He is practically tangled over her arm, and says, “It’s so bad. So bad. I wish he would’ve just finished me off…” and emphasizes, “… instead of leaving me on the brink of death.”

  “What do I do? Drake, tell me.”

  “They ain’t taking care of me. I need medicine.” He tugs her hand against his chest. His body wiggles, pulling her toward him. “Help me…” his broken words spoke against her ear, “Get my nurse. I need someone who actually cares about me. Someone who keeps their promises.”

  His words felt like a hot blade to her heart. All she can do is nod, “Okay,” and vanishes out the door.

  Drake straightens up, fixes his blankets a little, and turns off the light. “Stupid dame.”

  ◆◆◆

  Around noon, Josephine arrives on the floor with a warm plate from the cafeteria. Drake’s nurse exits room seven-twenty-one, clipboard in hand, making subtle eye gestures toward the charge nurse before turning to see Josephine walking up. She simply smiles with a short nod, “Afternoon,” and walks toward the medication room. She pauses and looks back at Josephine, “He’s awake now.” Josephine juggles her plate quietly and taps on the door, hoping he’s well enough to talk.

  “Come in,” his words stretched out.

  “I saw the trays as I was getting off the elevator,” she said. “I see they brought yours.” He pushes his bedside table away from him with his good hand. “Aren’t you gonna eat,” she asked.

  “I can’t eat this crap. I think they’re trying to kill me here. It’s nothing like your food. And at least you let me sleep at home when I’m sick.”

  “You gotta eat, Drake. You gotta get to feeling better.”

  “I can’t be here anymore,” a pile of pillows brace his neck and he leans his head back. He furrows his brows, “I don’t know what to do,” covering his face.

  “What do you need?”

  “Your friend…” wiping heavy eyes, “he did this to me.”

  Her eyes seal shut, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over David. I haven’t spoken to anyone,” looking down at her clothes, “I haven’t been home yet. I don’t have a phone charger with me.”

  His eyes slowly pan across the room, staring at her, “Really? You don’t know what happened?” Her expression climbs and is hesitant to look at him. Drake signals with his jaw, “Close the door. They’re loud out there.” He adjusts himself with one arm and sits up, watching her carry guilt with a careful shut of the door. He holds down a gleaming smile, fighting his cheeks to appear as though frowning. As soon as she turns, he clutches his casted arm and is grimacing. “Ahh, sharp pain.” His face swoops down, shaking his head, “David’s crazy, Jojo.”

  “What happened?”

  “He attacked me. I saw you were uncomfortable when you went inside. They knew I lived with you. So, I decided not to embarrass you by it. I wanted to protect your reputation.” He shakes his head, “I got up right after you did. I told him I was leaving… to go home. Next thing I knew, I woke up last night, having been through three different surgeries of them fix’n what he’d done to me.” He gazes away from her, “They keep asking me to press charges but I worry for you. I’m tempted every time they ask. They ask me, what criminal attacked you?” He swivels back toward her, “They all talk about it. You know? You can see it in their faces, hiding how scared they are for me. I’m afraid of what he might do. You’re the only visitor I can have. A crazy lunatic like that isn’t welcome here. I’ll have to move out. I’ll have to move out and press charges, so you’ll be safe as well. I had no idea your friend was a monster.”

  “No,” pressing her hand against her chest in order to hold her in place. “You don’t have to do that. He wouldn’t hurt me.”

  Drake rests his head back, tenderly rubbing his bandaged jawline. “I can’t let that happen. Not after what he showed everyone he’s made of. I can’t live there. You having those kind of friends hang’n ‘round. And… I can’t leave, knowing he’s dangerous. I have no choice but to protect you. He has to go to jail. I wanted to be honest with you. I wanted to tell you I was pressing charges before they discharge me.”

  “It’ll ruin him, Drake. His whole family. Please?” Her eyes are glossed over, staring through the wheels of his hospital bed. She’s taken over by a sinking feeling. A dense weight pushing her stomach down, making it harder to breathe. She squeezes her eyes, pressing her lids hard, forcing her lashes to tangle together. “Drake,” her voice was barely audible for him.

  “Jojo,” waiting for it.

  “Don’t move out.” The words tumbled from a hefty tongue. A drowning tongue. A tangled tongue with no other way out. “I won’t…” shrilling through tears, “I won’t speak to him anymore. Don’t press charges and I won’t speak to him.” She almost gasped after saying it, pivoting herself to look away from him. “Um…” gathering her senses for a few moments. She stares at his bruised eyes. Swollen eyes that are partially bandaged from his recent reconstructive surgery, “Stay. Stay until you’re better. I can take care of you.” She points at his quickly cooling tray, “My food’s better,” faking a laugh through a huff. “I’ll take better care of you than the nurses here. I won’t abandon you.”

  His face straightens, “Like you abandoned me at the party?”

  Tears explode from her eyes and stream down her cheeks. Tears she doesn’t know how to label, only that, “I’m sorry. Please?”

  Drake appears torn over an obvious decision. “I’ll have to think about it. You promised once before. You forgot I needed you. You begged me to go to that party, and now I’m here.” He pauses for a few moments, letting it sink in. Letting the leverage drown her guilt-flooded cheeks. He continues, “You’ll probably talk to David. He’ll come around and I won’t wake up next time,” and allows silence of the room with his last words holding to her ears for a few moments. Drake’s voice deepens with his counteroffer, “I know I’m being generous. Hopefully, it won’t come back to get me. But you have to promise me not to talk to hi
m. You can’t talk to anyone from the party. That way I can let bygones be bygones. If he finds out where I am, I’ll be forced to press charges for sure… if I live that long. I don’t ever wanna see him again.”

  Her eyelids are heavy. Only answering him with little nods.

  “Okay.” He opens his elbow slightly, inviting her over. “Don’t be upset. I’m not mad at you.” She drops her arms and slides her feet toward him, accepting his deal in order to protect David. She tucks her head into his armpit and gown. He pats her hairline and smiles over her swept back brunette locks. He says, “Take me home, Jojo.”

  Drake receives a heavy dose of pain medications for the ride home. He’s fast asleep and continues sleeping while Josephine picks up his prescriptions. She in the drive-thru lane, and glances over. He’s passed out next to her. Still wearing the same ripped and bloody shirt he had on with his soiled cowboy hat in the backseat.

  Reminding her.

  Haunting her.

  The whole trip back to the countryside is quiet. She turns down her street and notices something. A familiar something in her rearview mirror. She readjusts the reflection. Drake’s car.

  Not only Drake’s car,

  another vehicle turns down the winding country road shortly after. Trailing half a mile back, slowly picking up speed to catch up to the small sedan. Unmistakable. She’d know the truck from anywhere with one glance. The truck follows a shrinking distance behind Drake’s car. A double cabbed, white dually truck with its oversized wheels and chrome cattle-guard, reflecting sun like a showy explosion for the eyes. Complete, with the driven sound of rumbling thunder of its engine. Four-wheel-drive. Personally custom-made, owner designed. Upgraded with an extra-long snorkel pipe poking high above it, attracting attention by default with a gunrack in the backseat. There’s a stream of diesel smoke leading some yards back, letting her know the one driving Drake’s car is speeding up. He’s seen her