Strange Days Ch. 33-41

"Give me a moment," I nodded, head hurting worse, and now my jaw too, and right ankle and knee.

After a minute or so, I turned back to him, managed to keep my eyes open long enough for him to do his thing, but damn, did it ever hurt.

"Okay, done," the doctor patted my arm and jotted down notes on a clipboard.

"You guys aren't on iPads yet?" I said.

He stopped writing, glanced at me, and smiled warmly. Then he started writing again and said, "Patient's sense of humor indicating signs of full sarcastic recovery."

I smiled back at him. Even that hurt.

"I'm Doctor Jones," he told me.

I laughed, but it hurt too much to keep it up. I realized it even hurt to breathe. In fact, I was hurting more every passing minute, I guess because I was waking up. I managed a grin at the doctor.

"As in Indiana?"

He chuckled. "As in, except my first name is Tom."

I laughed even harder - if you don't know why, Google the name - but this time it hurt so much I cried out.

Mom growled at him. "Would you please stop making her laugh?"

"Mom, it's okay," I croaked, squeezed her hand, still holding mine. "After..." I couldn't finish saying 'after what Todd did to me', so I said, "I need to laugh right now, okay?"

Mom looked at me. Fresh tears filled her eyes, ran down her face. She nodded briskly. I looked at Sarah then. She was crying too, silent but with steady tears. I cupped the side of her face and she pushed against my hand, kissing the side of my palm.

"Get some rest, Amy," Doctor Jones told me. "We'll talk more later."

I nodded, thanked him, and when he was gone, turned to Mom and Sarah.

Mom squeezed my hand and let go, touching Sarah's shoulder to get her attention. "I need to make a call, now that she's awake."

Sarah gave her a quick nod, then Mom left the room.

"How long have I been out?" I asked, squirming on the bed a little, trying to ease the pain in my knee. I didn't remember hurting it.

Sarah just looked at me for a moment, more tears falling. "Six days."

"What?" I yelled and tried to sit up, forgot about my ribs. That's where it hurt the worst, and it was tight, like something was wrapped around me. I remembered getting kicked, hard.

"Whoa!" Sarah grabbed my shoulders and pushed me back down. "Stop trying to sit up, dammit!"

When my head hit the pillow again, it hurt so bad a wave of nausea rolled through me. I almost got sick.

Six days. My God.

"I need to call Trevor," I said softly, and even then my voice was too loud inside my head.

"I already did," Sarah said, pulling up a chair to sit beside me, holding my hand. "He's here."

I looked around the room again. I couldn't have overlooked him, could I?

Sarah gave a light laugh and squeezed my hand, "Not here here, dummy."

"Where?" I asked.

She shrugged. "Taking care of stuff for you."

I don't know what triggered it, but suddenly I saw Paula in my mind's eye, a mess of semen, surrounded by guys jerking off on her.

"Paula's really okay?" I asked.

Sarah nodded. "Yeah. She's with Violet and Holly at our place."

"What about Johnny?"

"He's with Trevor."

I frowned. They weren't friends. "Why is he with Trevor?"

She shrugged again. "He's helping."

"With what?" I frowned harder.

"Don't worry about it," she told me firmly. She leaned over and kissed me on the mouth, very gently, but even then, I felt a small pain in my lower lip. She whispered, "Just worry about getting better."

I nodded, remembered Johnny punching me repeatedly, blood filling my mouth. But gawd, why did my head hurt so bad? Everything started to hurt, much, much worse than when I'd first woken up.

"You okay?" Sarah asked, sitting down again.

I nodded. "Just hurts." Then I asked, "Why does my head hurt so much?" I reached up to brush my fingers where it hurt the most, the left side, and my fingertips found shaved scalp and a line of stitches. My eyes went wide. "What the hell?"

Sarah grabbed my hand, pulled it gently away from my head. "They think you were kicked in the head, probably with a steel-toed boot. Doctor Jones said that's why you were out so long, a bad concussion." She took a deep breath, more tears feel. "Gawd, Amy. They had to...you were bleeding, in your head. They had to..."

I didn't like the look of horror on her face, didn't like that she didn't want to tell me this, but I'd seen enough television, and I wanted her to smile. I gave her a crooked grin and said, "They had to take a DeWalt to my skull?"

Sarah laughed and squeezed my hand. "Yeah, something like that."

I have to tell you, as much as I was hurting, as shitty as I felt, it was the most wonderful thing, seeing Sarah, the woman I loved more than anything in the world, smiling down at me, eyes red, nose puffy and all snotty, her voice more nasal than Bette Midler. Some women are pretty when they cry. Sarah wasn't, but wow, did I ever love her.

I drew her down for a kiss. My mouth hurt, a lot, actually, but that kiss was totally worth it.

I heard a soft click and whir beside my bed. The pain throughout my body faded rapidly, and I fell asleep soon after. Automated drug delivery kicks butt.

I woke up a few times after that, but not for very long, enough to learn a few things.

Paula had gone to the party with some of her sorority sisters. Todd found her with her friends, told her he wanted to talk to her about Johnny. They lost sight of her after that and didn't think anything was wrong. Paula didn't remember much of what happened, largely due to the high dose of GHB that had been slipped into her drink. She remembered their faces, stripping her naked, and touching her in places, and she remembered telling them "no" and "stop", as well as calling me, but most of the horrible details were gone. Just as well, I think.

When the police arrived at the frat house, Todd and his friends were gone. The police found them three days later. They were all in the hospital now, but a different one, with policemen posted at their doors. The police hadn't said why they'd been hospitalized. There was a rumor that they'd had Ecstasy in their systems though. It would certainly explain some things, like, oh, I don't know, them sexually assaulting my friend and attempting to murder me.

As for my injuries...

The kick to my side had broken three of my ribs, nearly punctured a lung. My cheekbone and jaw had hairline fractures, where Todd had hit me, as did the left side of my skull, where the guy I kicked in the nuts had kicked me back. My ankle was broken, my knee was bruised to the bone and a tendon torn from being stomped on, probably by the same guy. I'd suffered a major concussion, which was part of why I still couldn't see well, or at all, really, out of my left eye. Doctor Jones - jeezus, that's funny - is confident my vision will clear up. The same kick to my head also tore a gash in my scalp, so I had a long curving line of stitches there. Then there was my busted and swollen lip, a loose tooth - I'd have to see a dentist for that - and the cuts on the inside of my mouth from my own teeth. The bruises around my neck in the shape of Todd's hands were an angry black and purple.

Oh, and I managed to sprain my wrist when I knocked the lights out of a two-hundred and forty-five pound jock. Yay, me!

I was on the mend. No permanent damage, as far as the doctors could tell. I'd have to go through physical therapy for my knee and ankle though, and I'd be in the hospital a few more days for observation, mostly due to the concussion, and drilling through my damned head.

I did manage to gripe about the huge chunk of my head they'd shaved, which made Sarah and Mom laugh. Mom and Sarah only ever left my room to eat or shower. In fact, I learned that early on, one of the nurses tried to make Sarah leave, since she wasn't family and couldn't stay past visiting hours. Sarah almost tore the poor girl's head off. Mom insisted she be allowed to stay. Only one of them could stay overnight, so they split the nights between them, one and then the other.

It was Friday again. A full week had gone by. In that time, I'd been moved out of the ICU. My new room was smaller but much more comfortable. It felt more like a decent hotel room, really. The colors were warm, windows larger, and my room faced east, so I could see the sunrise, which was nice.

When I woke up on Friday, the room was quiet. The sun was up but the drapes were closed, and there, beside my bed, sleeping in a chair, was Trevor. A glance at the clock beside my bed suggested that Sarah and Mom were probably eating lunch. I looked back to Trevor, smiled and opened my mouth to call his name, then noticed his hands hanging over the armrests. His knuckles were bandaged and taped, but I could still see the bloody mess beneath, and his hands looked a little swollen.

Oh my God. What had Trevor done?

I opened my mouth again, but heard someone clear their throat from across the room. I yelped when a man I hadn't noticed before stood up, and Trevor jumped to his feet, both hands balled into fists.

"Sorry, Miss Carter," the man said, stepping forward so that I could see him, and he waved Trevor back down into his chair. "I didn't mean to startle you."

He looked to be in his late forties or early fifties. His hair was salt-and-peppered, and he had laugh lines near his eyes and at the corners of his mouth. He was wearing a gray suit and maroon tie, and a badge was clipped to his belt. That last detail allowed me to relax considerably.

"I'm Detective Willis," he told me, standing at the foot of my bed.

I grinned up at him.

He smiled. "No Die Hard jokes, if you don't mind."

I chuckled.

Detective Willis - and no, his first name wasn't Bruce - recapped most of what I'd been told. The police responded to Sarah's call, then sent more units when someone at the party called 911, told them someone was being beaten, maybe raped. I inhaled sharply at that.

He held up a hand. "You haven't been raped, Miss Carter." I breathed a sigh of relief as he continued. "They just..."

When he didn't finish, I finished for him. "Kicked the shit out of me."

"Yeah," he said after a moment. "Look, we have just about everything we need at this point. Your friend, Paula, she's pressing charges. I assume you'll want to?"

Trevor looked at me.

"Fuck yes," I barked, then blushed up at the Detective. "Sorry."

He smiled warmly. "Perfectly understandable, and to be honest, I'm glad to see it. I'd rather see you ready for a fight than the alternative."

I nodded, catching his meaning. He was glad that I hadn't withdrawn into myself, fallen into a fit of depression. But for all I knew, that stuff might come anyway. I hoped not though. Right then, I was just angry.

"Todd Redding and his friends are under lock and key," he told me. "As soon as they're able, they'll be carted off somewhere much less comfortable."

"I was told they're in the hospital too," I said, trying really hard not to look at Trevor.

"Someone really put the hurt on them before we got to them," he nodded, then he glanced at Trevor, down at his hands, and back up at his face. I'm pretty sure Trevor held his breath. I know I did. I prayed, please don't arrest him. I didn't care what Trevor had done. "What kind of car do you have?"

That was not a question I'd expected. Trevor had been looking at me, but when he realized the question was directed at him, he blinked at Detective Willis, confused. He swallowed and replied, "Mustang, King Cobra."

"Seventy-eight?" Willis asked, and when Trevor nodded, he gave him a level look and said, "Radiator work is a bitch on those. Not much room to play in. It'll do a real number on your hands if you're not careful."

Trevor looked down at his feet and nodded.

Detective Willis looked at him for a moment. "You know Johnny Redding?"

Trevor looked up. "Kind of. Why?"

"He should be more careful working on your car too."

Trevor swallowed, his eyes welled up, and he gave a quick nod of his head. I couldn't believe it. He knew. Detective Willis knew what Trevor had done, and Johnny, to my amazement, but he wasn't going to pursue it. Willis went up about a billion notches in my respect book.

Detective Willis regarded me, then came over to offer me a business card. "Like I said, I think we have just about everything we need, but if I think of anything, I'll call. Your doctor said they'll be backing off the painkillers tomorrow morning, so I can get your formal statement in the afternoon, when you're mind is clearer." I nodded when he gave me the card, then he said, "If you think of anything else, or if you need anything at all, just call me."

"Thank you, Detective," I told him.

He looked at Trevor, then he smiled at me, patting the railing with his hand. "That's a good man you have there."

I smiled back, looked at Trevor, and I didn't care that I was crying. "Yes, he is."

When Detective Williams left, Trevor wiped tears from his face and stood up, leaned over me to kiss me, then whispered, "I love you, Amy."

I kissed him back, harder, so glad he was here. I didn't care about what had been done to me. I didn't care that it hurt to kiss him. I didn't care that it hurt to breathe, that it hurt to simply be. I held his face, kissed him, felt his love for me through his lips against mine, through his tears on my face, and I cried.