by Tara Spears
I shucked in a breath. It had been taking a helluva lot of effort to follow the conversation, but the frigid liquid dribbling down my side shocked me into a more lucid state.
“No. That happened last night,” Justin said.
The man’s eyes flicked from Justin to me, and back, concluding we’d had a fight. Laying a shaky hand over my eyes, I cleared that fallacy right up.
“I was beat up by a pissed off trick.” I peered through my fingers at Justin as he focused on the floor, his jaw working overtime. Kelly, who had been quietly perched on the edge of the bed, piped up.
“Trick?”
“I’m a prostitute,” I said quietly.
She laughed. “Why does that not surprise me? Shit, what’s next?”
“Shut up, Kelly,” Justin snapped.
The EMT ignored the confab, concentrating on cleaning my wound. His partner, a freckle-faced Irish fellow if I’ve ever seen one, returned with the blood and set up an IV in my left arm.
Once the wound was packed and they had me wrapped in a pressure bandage, the mustached guy finally spoke while his partner brought over a gurney.
“The blade went in at an angle. Judging from the color and viscosity of the blood, he might have nicked his bladder.”
I groaned and felt my fingers twitch at the thought of urine mingling with my organs.
He moved his eyes off Justin to me. “If that is the case, you will have to go in for surgery right away. Just so you know.”
I nodded while Justin told him thank you. They slid me onto a backboard for some reason, then strapped me and the board to the gurney. Justin grabbed a shirt and shoes, then followed right behind.
As they loaded me into the ambulance Justin began to flutter around, wringing his hands nervously. I could tell he was getting more and more overwrought with every passing second. I wasn’t about to let him breakdown, not over me.
“I want him to ride with me,” I said, looking at the Irish fellow near my head as earnestly as I could.
“Is he family?”
“He’s the only family I have. Please, I need him.”
He glanced at Justin then nodded once to me. “All right, he can ride along,” Irish said loud enough for Justin to hear.
Kelly grasped Justin’s arm as his bloodstained hands covered his face. She stood on tiptoe, talking quietly to him until he inclined his head in assent. She hugged him tight. When she let him go, he climbed in and perched on the small padded square Irish pointed him to. His cheek twitched but otherwise his face was a stolid mask. His hands latched around my shin just as the siren came on and the rig lurched forward.
The ride was bumpy as hell. I winced with every bounce the box made down the gravel driveway. It didn’t get much better when we hit pavement. Justin kept hold of my leg the whole way, squeezing now and then when he saw the pain tear across my face. The only sound was the siren wailing like a bird of prey in the pre-dawn, as it cut a path down Eighth Avenue.
The vehicle leaned heavily as the driver made a left, and even though I was strapped down and the gurney locked in, I grasped the cool metal side supports. The rig rocked around a few more turns, and by the time the siren was silenced I was feeling sick. Whether from the ride, blood loss, stress, or a combination of all three, I wasn’t sure. I breathed through my mouth, trying not to smell the tang of blood and sting of antiseptic, but I could taste them, and my stomach was threatening.
“Mr. Grey, are you feeling sick?” Irish asked. I must have been peaked enough that he had already made the assumption. A mask settled over my nose and mouth before I had a chance to answer. “Just breathe normally.”
I did the best I could, as my stomach made ominous noises. After the third lungful of oxygen everything started to settle back down, and hesitantly, my body loosened.
They made Justin wait outside the doors they wheeled me through. A businesslike nurse, with frizzy auburn hair barely contained in a grey scrunchy that matched her scrubs, took my vitals. She silently wrote them down on an aluminum clipboard before leaving me alone in the room.
I’d never been awake in a room like this. It appeared to be an emergency surgery. Medical equipment, I couldn’t begin to understand, rested haphazardly around the room, lying in wait. I had been moved onto a bed covered in vinyl, and set in the center of a grated area of flooring. The whole room was the same color of annoying slate-blue. I didn’t find the color calming at all, if that had been the intent.
The earnest nurse re-entered.
“Mr. Grey, the young man who came in with you doesn’t seem to know much about you. I need you to fill in the blanks,” she said with a pert pucker of her lips.
I filled in the empty spaces for her, and when she heard I didn’t have medical insurance she let out an annoyed sigh. She quickly developed a superiority complex, and I wanted to smash that censorious expression off her ugly lemon face. When her voice came out flat and uncaring it rankled me, and I became defensive. She didn’t have any right to judge me or anyone else for that matter.
I cut her off in mid question. “I don’t like you very much. You came in here and judged me without knowing anything about me. I’m sure it states I was an attempted suicide, not to mention my occupation. Couple that with the fact I have no insurance and you automatically assume I’m a deadbeat, not worthy of your respect.” I struggled onto my elbow, ignoring the pain for the moment as I jabbed a finger at her pettish face.
“When you spend six years of your childhood being repeatedly raped by your stepfather while your own mother turns her back on you in favor of a heroin induced world, then and only then, do you have a right to judge me.” By the end I was yelling and tears were running down my cheeks while she gaped at me, looking as if she wanted to flee. I wasn’t done yet though.
“I broke free.” My voice cracked and I had to clear my throat. “I broke free the only way I knew how, and in a few years I will have my masters in business while you will still be here cleaning up after the likes of me. Be careful who you judge. Your actions might come back to bite you in the ass someday. Now get the fuck out, and tell my boyfriend to come in, I need him.” I collapsed, suddenly exhausted by my tirade. I wasn’t sure where that had come from, and I didn’t feel any better for letting it out. She didn’t say anything as she left the room. I curled into myself.
“Baby, are you okay?” Justin asked as the door whooshed closed.
“No. I don’t think I am.”
Chapter Twenty
They allowed Justin to stay in the room while they worked on me. I guess going psycho has its perks. Somehow, yielding a three inch wide butcher knife, I had managed to miss all my vital organs including my bladder. I had, however, nicked my diaphragm and might need to use a pillow wedged against my abdomen when I took a crap. The diaphragm being such a large muscle, the doctor explained to me once I was awake and somewhat coherent, can’t be stitched and has to knit back together on its own.
I was also anemic and required another blood transfusion of AB negative— I had been way off on my blood type— and several bags of various fluids over the next twelve hours before they would release me. They deemed the anemia was not a result of the injury, but rather diet, or some other cause. I was reasonably sure it was some other cause, but I opted not to share that with them.
I was moved to a private room, which I took to mean, in their opinion, I might be crazy. Good thing I hadn’t told them about my OCD. Unfortunately, at this point, I was leaning towards agreeing with them. I had never intentionally hurt myself, and that had me feeling less than positive about, well, everything.
The hospital room was nice enough. It was decorated in soothing pastel colors with a large window of re-enforced glass that, more than likely, provided a view of the parking lot.
I was groggy from the anesthetic, Justin was wrung-out, and Kelly looked close to a mental breakdown of her own, but they stayed with me nonetheless. Not much was said. Was I comfortable, did I need anything, just dribble I was thankful for ri
ght now. I wasn’t really up for talking.
Justin moved a peach colored chair next to the bed and plopped into it, folding his arms onto my bed and laying his head on top of them. Kelly curled into a small mauve barrel chair near the window. Tucking her puffy coat under her cheek as she wriggled, trying to get comfortable. The way she was wedged in there I doubted comfortable would ever happen. I reached down and gently pet Justin’s head until I dozed off.
* * * * *
The rope was chafing my wrists raw and I tried not to move. I had my toes stretched, resting on the worn black Mac Tools rug beneath where I hung to keep myself from swinging. My calves ached from the effort. My back burned, my throat was swollen, and I was sure I had bruises from the stranglings. Two days... I had two full days off ahead. Even Willie kept his hands off and dick out of me after these sessions. That alone made them almost worth it.
Willie leaned against the red metal workbench behind a video camera, recording the scenes so the clients would have something to jack off to later. These guys were sick, but they paid top dollar to live out their rape fantasies on me.
Teeth pinched my ass and I concentrated on the dingy MAC below my feet. Only two more. There were never more than six. It was all I could handle. Willie learned that lesson when I was thirteen and he let these psychos almost kill me. I had been down for a long time, and he was more careful with his boy now.
He didn’t let them choke me to the point of passing out anymore, and I’d learned to appreciate the antibiotics he had me take following these closeted sessions. It was a fucking nightmare to work while sore and feverish from the infections these assholes rough treatment caused. Like the guy biting my ass. Damn.
I’d be complaining if Willie weren’t paying me a share. I didn’t whine anymore though. The money was adding up, and as soon as I had my license I was out of here. Only six more weeks. The thought of leaving Willie alone, with no one, brought a small smile to my lips.
Pain flared across my cheek from a heavy slap that sent me spinning around. The rope bit hard into my wrists, separating the skin. Blood trickled warm and thick down my arms. A hoarse scream rent my throat just as he smacked me again.
Hands grabbed my waist stopping my dizzying whirl. “Lil Georgie likes it when you scream.”
My eyes flew open at the familiar voice. Air slammed into my lungs as I stared at the ravished man in front of me. Georgie’s face was filleted in several places, and blood ran down his chest from two high stab wounds. He fondled an inch-long stump of flesh where Lil Georgie had once been. I closed my eyes and shook my head. When I opened them he was still there.
Georgie’s fist slammed into my face again, spinning me around. Willie laughed behind the camera. Why was he letting Georgie hit my face? I closed my eyes to the horror of Georgie flashing past me over and over as I spun.
“Willie, get me down, get me down, get me down,” I cried as I began kicking my legs. My left hand slid free of the rope and I swung my mangled fist at Georgie, cuffing his ear hard. He bellowed then began to fall. The rope released me and my body jerked as I fell to the garage floor.
* * * * *
I moaned and opened my eyes to a beige speckled floor. Where’d the rug go? Everything hurt, and my head pounded in tune to Georgie’s wailing. I didn’t think I hit him that hard. I looked towards the sound, and the room shuddered around me. Oh shit, I’d hit Justin. He was curled in the corner behind the wall heater, and Kelly was trying to coax him out. Every time she touched him he howled and jerked back.
I hoisted myself onto my hands and knees, crawling quickly over to them. The IV stand crashed behind me making us all jump. I yanked the line from my arm.
Justin was somewhere else. Terrified. His hands were clamped around his ears, and his eyes were tightly closed.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry.”
“You hit his ear, you can’t hit his ears, or the side of his face,” Kelly said hotly.
“It wasn’t on purpose,” I snapped back.
He didn’t appear to be overly flighty, so I did the only thing I could think of. I sat down and pulled him against me, holding him tight as he keened and struggled.
“Justin, it’s okay, he’s not here. It was me. I didn’t mean to hit you. Shh.” I kept crooning quietly, ignoring the pain building up my side, and the discomfort worming around in my groin. It was enough to make me dizzy, but I managed to hold on to him.
His closemouthed wailing reduced to whimpering and the occasional high-pitched moan. Slowly he relaxed and curled into a ball against me, still holding his ears. Now that he had calmed some, Kelly collapsed against the heater, holding her forehead in her hands.
“He hasn’t... his father used to cuff him over and over. Sometimes he’d come to school with cotton shoved in his ears to stem the bleeding.”
I figured his father had been tough on him, but how tough I hadn’t been sure. Now I knew. Justin should have been a dream son. Athletic, popular, varsity quarterback no less. He had even denied his own sexuality in an attempt to placate his overbearing father. I might have had a shitty life, but I couldn’t imagine working so hard to be accepted only to have your father ridicule you for your efforts.
I kissed his temple, and he let go of the uninjured ear then slid his arm around my neck. I couldn’t believe the relief I felt.
“Dear Lord, what is going on in here?”
Kelly and I glanced up at a short burly nurse as she righted the IV stand.
“A little late, don’t ya think?” Kelly said. “All hell broke loose over five minutes ago.”
Her thin lips grew even thinner. She did, however, have the decency to look apologetic. “There was an emergency... its no excuse, but we’re low on staff. The flu you know.”
I rescued her. “I’m not really a high risk case. The worst I can do is tear some stitches.”
“Or your shunt,” she said, looking curiously at us on the floor. “I’ll send Kathryn in to re-set your line in five minutes. Five minutes, Mr. Grey.” She gave me a stern look. I thought it a little strange she didn’t ask what was going on.
“Got it. Thank you.”
After she left, Kelly said, “She’s a strange one.” She ran her fingers through Justin’s hair then hoisted herself onto her feet, twisting her shoulders as she stretched her back.
I felt Justin smile against my neck and I leaned down.
“I’m glad you’re back. I didn’t mean to,” I said quietly.
He pulled himself closer. “I know,” he breathed.
“I’m going to run downstairs. Do you want anything?”
I glanced up, seeing she already had her purse slung over her shoulder.
“Coffee,” Justin piped up, and I nodded in agreement.
“No problem. Trey, what do you want?”
“Carmel Macchiato, no whip,” Justin answered for me.
“Thanks, Kelly.” I hitched my lips up at her. I was beginning to appreciate her more all the time.
“Ya, ya.” She shook a finger at us. “You boys behave while I’m gone.” Adjusting her purse, she headed through the door.
Justin shifted, finally lowering his hand from his ear, and settling it on his neck. He was chewing his lip, staring at the teddy bears on my gown.
I shook my head at him. “We don’t have to talk about it right now. When you’re ready.”
He turned away, worrying at his ear again as he bobbed his head.
I patted his hip. “Up, my ass is going numb.”
He was still tugging absently on his ear after he helped me up. I reached out, closing my hand over his, and he let go. His ear was red, but thankfully it wasn’t bleeding.
“You know, Kelly’s kinda weird.” I stretched my back and cringed. All the little pains, and big hurts, reminded me of the time I fell off the roof into the roses when I was fifteen. Willie smacking me for damaging the roses had been a tickle compared to the ungraceful landing.
“Hm, Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black?” He shot me
a sardonic glance then shrugged. “She’s just Kelly. No hidden agenda.”
It had been a long two days and he had every right, I chose to let it go.
“Do you have your cell phone?” I asked.
“No, but Kelly has hers.” Justin retrieved her coat from the chair, and dug in the pockets until he found it, then handed it to me. I dialed information, requesting the number for Dr. Greene’s office. I hit star to direct connect. When his service picked up, I told the woman on the other end who and where I was, then glanced at Justin.
“What’s the room number, and Kelly’s phone number?”
He rattled them both off while I relayed them to the gal, then hung up, setting the phone on the bedside table. Being Saturday, his service promised to pass on my emergency message.
“I’m glad you called him,” Justin said as he sat down, and leaned back in his chair.
I climbed onto the bed. “I’m not a fool. I know I need help this time.” I drew my knees up and ruffled my hair. “I feel like I’m losing control amidst gaining control.” I clutched my fingers into my scalp and growled.
“It’s me isn’t it?” Justin asked as he stared at the ceiling tiles. The thought had crossed my mind. Not him specifically, but the changes in my life our relationship had caused. I appeared to be gaining control of my OCD, but at the same time my mind seemed to be falling apart— more than usual anyway. When I took too long to answer, his eyes came down to rest on my face. They were damp, and his lower lip trembled ever so slightly. I reached out, quieting his anxious fingers. He bowed his head, resting his forehead on the back of my hand.
“I, um... If you ask me to, I’ll leave,” I said, even though my insides quavered at the idea.
He blew out a breath, and rocked his head against my hand.
“Trey, I can’t say I’m okay with you still working, because I’m not. But I just, please—”
“I took a different job... off the Ave,” I said quietly.
He raised his head, searching my face, and I looked away. He deserved to know about Freddie, yet, for some reason, it felt like more of a betrayal than hustling did.
