The New Girl - A Man's Perspective Ch. 19

Chapter 19: The Scare of a Lifetime

Monday started off like every other Monday, hectic. I had about 20 orders to complete and I had been thinking about hiring an apprentice. Amy took on at least 5 new accounts at the firm and was busier than a bee finding pollen. We barely saw each other until that night she arrived home from work.

"What a day," I said, as I stood up and walked into the kitchen. Baxter, my cat (yes, he has a name), rubbed against my legs and meowed because he was hungry. I picked him up and snuggled him for a few minutes before feeding him. Then I grabbed a beer and sat down, kicking off my shoes.

"Oh man, running a business is tougher than I thought," I groaned.

I turned on the Nets game and thought about Greg & Mindy and Amy. I wondered what dad & Donna were doing too.

'Maybe I'll see if dad wants to go grab a bite to eat,' I thought.

I actually called him this time, instead of texting.

"City morgue," he answered.

"Pop," I said.

"Son," he replied.

"You hungry," I asked.

"As a horse, bud," he confirmed.

"Wings," I asked.

"Sounds good. Sammy's," he said.

"Be there in 10," I said.

I hung up the phone and headed to pick him up in my Mercedes. Once outside, he came strolling out and hopped in feeling like a million bucks.

"Howdy," he said.

"Howdy," I replied.

"So what's new," he asked.

"Nothing much. Long day at work and I didn't feel like cooking. Amy had meetings with her new clients, so it's just me for dinner tonight. Yourself?," I said.

"Oh, you know, the usual," he said, coyly.

"I see. Well, at least you're staying out of trouble," I joked.

"Yessir, you know me. I'm boring," he chuckled.

We arrived at Sammy's Pub and sat at the bar. He ordered 2 beers and onion rings as an appetizer. We ordered and 10 minutes later our food came. While we ate I asked what he thought upon meeting Donna.

"She's nice. Good with the boys. That's how your mother was too," he said.

"Think you might have dinner together, like a date," I asked.

He laughed and wiped the wing sauce from his mouth.

"I need to get to know her better before we go that far. That's the right way to court a lady, son," he said.

"Good point," I replied.

"But, if and when it gets to that point, I think we could be a thing. I don't plan on getting married again, but I might be interested in going steady. That's what we called dating back in my day," he said with a mouth full of chicken.

"I know, dad," I laughed.

"I'm buying," I said.

"Nope. Already got it, son," he said, "our waitress knows me. I have a tab here."

"A tab, on wings," I said, a bit confused.

"Yep... Is that weird," he asked, glancing awkwardly at me.

"Not at all, Pop," I said, chuckling and shaking my head.

At the office Amy was in the conference room becoming impatient with her new clients.

"We discussed a magazine ad, not a billboard or commercial. Both would cost five times more than a magazine ad. You said you wanted to advertise gold watches and gold tennis bracelets. A closeup of the model's wrists is how to sell both. People will not see either in a wide angle shot of the models holding up their arms to their chins," she said firmly.

"Who buys magazines anymore? No one. Everyone will see these on a billboard. That's what I want but I don't want to pay that cost," the client demanded.

"Ok, clearly we are getting nowhere fast. I need to run to my office. Take a look at these mock-ups and tell me which ones you like. Frank, I'll be right back," she said.

'These fucktards,' she thought as she walked back to her office briskly, sighing heavily and shaking her head.

"Siri," she said into her Apple Watch, "Send a text to "babe."

"Ok, what do you want me to say," siri said.

"I'm so sorry I'm late, baby. Dealing with these clients is like arguing logic with a 2 year old. I'll be home soon, I promise. Love you. Heart emoji. Kissy face emoji." she said, "Send."

She walked into her office and picked up a folder for the client and saw a picture of her & I out of the corner of her eye. She stared at it for a few minutes and smiled. She picked it up and sighed again.

"Oh, Jeffrey. I remember when we first met. You were so timid and shy. Now you want to have babies with me," she whispered, rubbing my face in the picture with her thumb.

"What have I done to you," she laughed.

She left her office into a dark void of dusty cubicles. The motion sensors didn't switch on until she was well past each section. All of a sudden she heard rustling and a growl and for a split second she saw a dark figure leap out from behind a column.

"BITCH," a scratchy male voice yelled as they both toppled over a desk and onto the floor.

"HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME," the voice yelled.

"HEEELP!! GET OFF ME!! WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?? HEEEEELPP, F-FRANNNK," she screamed.

It was Vincent, a jealous ex boyfriend from Philadelphia, the one she mentioned to Mindy, tried to rape her. He had been stalking her since she moved.

"YOU THINK YOU CAN LEAVE ME AND FUCK SOME OTHER MOTHERFUCKER WITHOUT ME KNOWING? DID YOU FORGET? I HAVE EYES EVERYWHERE, FUCKING WHORE," he yelled, beating her and tearing at her clothes.

Suddenly, the lights flickered on as Frank and their client came running. They yanked at Vincent's clothes and hair, but he fought them off. He slapped Amy across the face, then punched her several times. He threw her over a cubicle wall onto the desk behind it. She fell on the floor, bruised and bloody. He stomped over, picked her up and threw her onto the desk. Ripping open her blouse and bra and fondling her tits, she screamed and kicked. He pulled at her skirt trying to rip it off as well, but was unsuccessful, so he decided to push it up and force her legs apart. He held his knee on her right leg and forced her left leg out as far as he could while covering her mouth and slapping her with the other. His herpes riddled penis hung out of his pants, semi erect. The open sores oozed pus. He ripped off her panties and spit on his filthy fingers, rubbed her dry pussy then tried to stick his dick inside her. She was flailing her arms, pushing and scratching at him.

"I'm gonna fuck you good, bitch. Then I'm gonna kill you," He he said surely, continuing to beat her into submission.

His right hand slipped off her ankle and she was able to swing her foot hitting him in the temple with the spike of her high heel. He wobbled and loosened his grip slightly. Frank and their client grabbed whatever they could find to fight Vincent off, eventually finding a pair of sharp scissors and a potted plant from the desk across the aisle. The client smashed a terracotta pot over Vincent's head before Frank could stab him with the scissors. Then Vincent fell to the floor unconscious. The client pulled a cord from under a desk to hogtie him. Frank stayed with Amy and called 911. She was semi-conscious, but still responsive.

"Stay awake, Amy! Stay with me!" Frank ordered. Yes, hello?" Frank said frantically when the 911 operator picked up.

"Uuughhh, Fraaank... F-Frank, I, I n-need help..." Amy muttered, as she moved her head and held loosely onto his arm, "I- I need Jeff... c-call Jeff, please."

Her face was bloody and bruised. Her blouse was. Torn and covered in blood from both she and Vincent. She tried to move but Frank held her down so as to not injure herself more.

"I'm here Amy. Stay with me. Squeeze my arm," he said while the operator dispatched emergency crews.

"Frank, call Jeff. G-get my... get my phone... Jeff. Get Jeff, please..." she muttered again with a mouthful of blood.

"The ambulance is on their way. Just hang on Amy. I'll call Jeff as soon as I can," Frank said.

When the client had Vincent bound and gagged with one of Vincent's own dirty socks, he watched as emergency vehicles pulled up.

"I'll go get them and bring them up here," Frank said, "You stay with Amy!"

Three minutes later, Frank, the police and EMT's were back. Amy had fallen unconscious, but was still breathing. They carefully braced her on a spinal board, put on a neck brace, strapped her in and lifted her onto a stretcher. Once downstairs, they loaded her into the ambulance and sped to the hospital. Frank kept Amy's phone and he called Jeff. At the same time, the police had tended to Vincent, who was awake and extremely pissed off. He had spit the sock from his mouth and was squirming and yelling death threats again. They cuffed him and he fought, so they tased him and they dragged him down to the police cruiser. Frank and the client gave statements and were bandaged up by the fire emt's. Then Frank headed to the hospital and the client went back to the hotel.

My phone vibrated on the way back to dad's house. I didn't pick it up or look at it, because it had fallen out of his pocket between the seat and driver door. I didn't know Frank had been trying to call me for the last 30 minutes, non stop. Once we arrived, I walked dad to the door, hugged him and said goodnight. When I climbed back into the car, I noticed my phone laying on the floor. I picked it up and saw Frank had been trying to call.

"46 missed calls from Frank on Amy's phone? What the hell," I said out loud.

I called Frank back and could barely make out what he was saying. He was frantic. All I took from the call was 'Amy, hospital, attacker.' Then I text Amy's phone trying to find out which hospital she was at. 30 seconds later my phone dinged: "St. Simon Emergency," the text read. I gunned it to the hospital, which was 20 minutes across town on a normal day, now only took me 10. I screeched to a stop out front of the emergency entrance, and ran inside without shutting my door and threw my keys at the valet and gave them my phone number. I ran inside and demanded to know where Amy Beaufort was. I signed in and a nurse rushed me back to the triage room she was in.

"Where are they," I yelled.

"She was rushed into surgery," the nurse said.

"Fuck! Where is that," I yelled again, frantically picking up Amy's belongings that were taken off her before arrival.

"This way," the nurse said, waving her hand.

We ran to the elevator, went 2 floors up and down a long hall to the waiting room. I was one of three people there. I ran to the desk and asked about Amy. The receptionist said she was in surgery and wasn't sure how long they'd be. I paced the waiting room floor for what seemed like hours. My mind raced, wondering if she was ok, how much longer they would be, who did this to her and where are they now? As soon as that thought popped into my mind, I was set on revenge. I was in IT. This happened at the office. If I talked to John I could gain access to the entire security system. I will find out and they will pay dearly. An hour and a half after I arrived at the hospital, the surgeon walked out of the operating doors. He asked the receptionist at the desk if anyone was there for Amy, then turned to me and walked over.

"Jeff Baker," the surgeon asked.

"Yes, that's me. Is Amy ok," I asked, desperately.

"Yes, she is doing well. I'm Dr. Strom. I'm the chief surgeon here," he said.

"She's in recovery now. You'll be able to see her shortly. The surgery went well, but she had quite a bit of damage. She suffered from severe blunt force trauma to her head and body. She received a fractured eye socket, a broken nose, a fractured skull, broken ribs, a broken left knee, a severe concussion and several contusions and deep lacerations all over her body, some of which came dangerously close to major arteries. Whoever did this definitely could have killed her. She could have lost a lot of blood, but luckily we managed to rush her in here in time to clean the wounds and get her put back together. She'll be pretty sore for a while. This isn't the first time we've seen patients with similar injuries. Once she is in a room her nurse will call you back," he informed.

"Thank you," I said emotionally.

I couldn't stop thinking of what I was going to do to her attacker. I kept running scenarios through his mind.

'Stab them? Maybe go full Gerard Butler from Law Abiding Citizen? I don't know. Regardless, that motherfucker is going to wish he was never born,' I decided.

I was anxious and fidgeting, tapping my fingers and looking around. I couldn't sit still, so I got up and paced the room again. I had to keep calm and I knew it. I remembered a breathing exercise mom taught me when I was young.

"Whenever you feel overwhelmed or anxious, sit in a quiet space, close your eyes and breathe deeply in through your nose, then all the way out through your mouth. Do this 10 times, and you won't feel as upset or anxious anymore," mom used to say.

I walked to the window overlooking a dark courtyard, pulled a chair over, sat down and controlled my breathing. After 10 deep inhales and exhales, I started feeling better. I stayed there looking out the dark window for a few minutes with tears in my eyes before the nurse called for me.

"Jeff Baker," she called.

"Uh, yes, that's me," I said, tripping over the chair as I stood up to walk towards her.

"Jeff Baker, here for Amy Beaufort," she confirmed.

"Yes," I said.

"Amy is sedated, so she won't respond. She's hooked up to monitors and a ventilator, just so you're aware. Here she is. Go on in," the nurse opened the door and led me inside.

As soon as I saw Amy, I tried to hold back the tears as I sat down in the chair next to her bed and cried, holding her hand to my forehead.

"I'll come check on her in a little while," the nurse said before leaving and shutting the door behind her.

"Thank you," I said, choking up.

I sat there watching the monitors and holding her hand. I talked to her and brushed her hair behind her ear. Her injuries looked bad and her face was swollen and had a large cast on her leg. She had bandages over her eye and head. Her arms and legs were wrapped in sterile white gauze, and a few small spots of dried blood seeped through. I looked at her in disbelief and sighed. Soon the nurse came back and I asked if she knew what happened. The nurse said it was attempted rape according to the police.

'Rape,' I thought, surprised.

My blood boiled. I didn't know who attacked her or why, but I did know one thing, I was going to kill them.

The next morning, I woke to a phone call from John.

"Hey, buddy. How are you both doing," John asked sympathetically.

"Uh, well, she's still out. Her vitals are fine, and she's breathing on her own now, but she hasn't woken up yet," I explained, voice shaky.

"So slowly progressing. Good. Sounds like she's making it through. I'm glad. And yourself, how are you holding up? Anything we can do to help," he asked.

"I'm, uh, yeah, I'm ok, I guess... The last time I was in a hospital overnight like this, it was with my mom. She passed shortly after Greg & I left that afternoon. I'm trying my best not to let my mind go there, though. I think, uh, I'm, I'm going to stay up here with her until she's discharged," I said, my voice trembling now.

"Look, Jeff. I know the kind hearted guy you are. I'd do anything for you, buddy, and even though you don't work for me anymore, I'd like to offer you a contractor job. Sound good? Maybe now isn't the time, but I just wanted to put a bug in your ear. We can talk about it later," John asked.

"Yeah, later. Thanks. I really appreciate you checking in and once she wakes up I'm told she can have visitors if you wanted to come up," I said as tears started rolling down my face.

"Don't mention it, bud. Keep us updated and I'll make a trip up there," John said.

"Yeah, of course. Thanks again," I said.

Then I hung up the phone and leaned my arms on the window sill and stared out over a wet, rainy parking lot full of cars and a few bustling people. I sniffled and let my emotions take over. I hadn't yet truly mourned mom's death yet, even after 6 years, and now it was all rushing forward. I couldn't hold back any longer. I sobbed so hard my knees gave out and I squatted down in front of the window. I sobbed for a good 10 minutes, wiping my face on my shirt. Then my crying slowed down and I looked back out the window. I sighed and sniffled and turned to sit back down. When I turned I saw Amy's eyes were open. She was still out of it but at least she was awake.

"Oh my god, Amy! Y-you're awake," I said, fervently,

"Someone? She's awake! Amy is awake," I yelled out the door.

Three nurses ran into the room to check on her. She looked around at them, not understanding what was happening or why she was in a hospital bed. Her heart rate escalated and her breathing became more rapid. The nurses started pushing buttons and checking her uninjured eye. Then Amy saw me. She squinted a watery eye and tried to talk, but she had a tube down her throat which prevented her from talking. I ran over and grabbed her hand and stroked it while the nurses worked on her.

"Hi! I'm here. You're going to be ok. I'm not going anywhere," I said, attempting to calm her enough for the nurses to remove the tubes while attempting to be strong for her.

"Amy, we need you to try and breathe and stay calm for a minute, ok? We're going to take the tubes out. It will hurt for a second, but we'll try and make it quick," the head nurse said.

I held her hand and held eye contact until they successfully removed the tube, and caught a small amount of vomit.

"Try not to let her cry hard or yell or scream. That tube does a number to your throat and if you try to talk normally, it will hurt a lot," the head nurse advised me, then patted me on the shoulder and gave me a smile and a nod then left the room.

It was only Amy & I now. The room was silent except for her soft whimpering. She was shaking as she squeezed my hand. She stared at me as the tears ran down her face. I sat on the bed and held her hand tight as she cried. I wanted to fix this so bad I could taste it, or maybe that was the blood from my tongue after biting it as I was sobbing earlier? She looked up at me and tried to talk. I placed my finger on her lips, shushing her, then handed her a pad and pen so she could write.

"What happened," she wrote and handed it to me.

"You were attacked at the office. The attacker tried to rape and could have killed you. They beat you up pretty badly. Frank called 911 and subdued your attacker. The police hauled him off to jail after the ambulance brought you here. They rushed you into surgery as soon as you arrived. You've been here since last night" I said. She could hear me. She just couldn't talk.

Her eyes widened and her face instantly frowned. She started crying harder this time. I held her hand tighter knowing she was tired, in pain and probably scared. I assured her that I wasn't leaving the hospital until she did, and if I needed someone to bring clothes, I would shower there and sleep in that uncomfortable hospital chair. She nodded her head, happy I was there and that I was staying and mouthed "ok."

Six days later, the doctor discharged her. I wheeled her out to the car, lifted her out of the wheelchair and placed her in the car. Her wounds were wrapped well and the cast was bulky, so I tried to be careful. She winced only a couple times. When I climbed in the car, I looked at her and smiled before starting the car.

She turned and smiled back at me.

"What, sweetheart? You ok," she asked, voice scratchy, but smiling.

"Yeah. I'm ok. That just scared the shit out of me," I said, smiling back at her.

I backed out of the parking spot, paid for the parking, and we drove home, her hand in mind.