Like Gravity(72)

I tuned in enough to catch a word every once in a while.

“……in shock…….possible head trauma…….multiple contusions…”

After they’d checked my pupils by shining a glaringly bright pen light directly into each eye, there was more muffled conferencing between paramedics. Something they’d seen in my pupils’ response must’ve worried them, because in no time at all, they’d wheeled over a stretcher and gently lifted me onto it.

“…Jane Doe….attacked…..concussion….”

When my back gently hit the cushion, I automatically looked up to the stars.

Andromeda.

Pisces.

Aquarius.

Pegasus.

I closed my eyes and tried to shut them out, to turn off the images that seeing them had triggered, but it was too late.

A door slams. It’s dark, so dark I can’t even see my hand in front of my face. Utterly quiet, hopelessly alone. My hand touches a foreign chest. His bruising grip on my shoulders. Tight, so tight. I gasp in pain. Screams no one can hear echo in the night. I’m cornered. I’m helpless. I’m going to die.

The sounds of a struggle snapped me back into the present. My eyes followed the loud voices, until I found him in the crowd. He looked frantic to get to me, his face flushed red and his deep blue eyes flashing dangerously as he screamed at the duo of police officers restraining him. He was gesturing toward me, clearly trying to explain something to the officers, when his eyes locked on mine and he realized that I was conscious.

“Bee!” Finn screamed, his voice cracking, broken. “Tell them to let me through, Bee. Tell them, princess. They won’t let me get to you.”

Still floating in the numbness of my aftershock, I stared at him, mesmerized by the haunted look on his face. He appeared nearly unhinged with worry at my condition, as though the strain of what had happened to me was more than he could bear. He almost looked as if he’d been the one alone in that alleyway, when a monster had slithered from the shadows.

I wanted to tell him that it was okay – that I was okay. I wanted to take that tormented look out of his eyes. I didn’t do that, though. Instead, I turned my head away from him, not wanting to see that expression on his face anymore and too preoccupied with my own demons to spare any thoughts for his.

Maybe I can stay like this forever. Comfortably numbed to the world. Adrift – quite possibly unhinged – but safe. Alone in my bubble. Untouchable. Maybe it’s better this way.

As much as I wanted to hold onto my detached catatonia, I knew it couldn’t be healthy. And it was probably a one-way ticket to a padded cell and a lifetime supply of all-you-can-eat Jell-O.

It was then that I realized there was a paramedic speaking to me in a low, soothing tone, her mouth close to my ear. Turning my eyes to her face, it was as if an un-mute button had abruptly been pressed; all the sounds came rushing back, nearly overwhelming in their volume.

Sirens wailing. Police radios crackling. Curious onlookers whispering. A man’s voice, yelling my name.

“Can you hear me, sweetie? We need to know your name, so we can take care of you.”

“Br—Brooklyn,” I stammered out, my voice sounding fragile. Clearing my throat I tried again, “Brooklyn Turner.”

“Okay, Brooklyn, that’s good. I’m Shannon.” She stared into my eyes searchingly, looking for answers to the mountain of questions that had piled up in however long had passed since I first emerged from the alley. “Do you remember what happened?” she asked me.

I nodded.

“That’s good, Brooklyn,” Shannon smiled encouragingly.

“I was…I was attacked,” I whispered, at once a confession and a plea for understanding. Her eyes were a warm brown, like melted caramel, and at the moment they were filled with sympathy and worry.

“The police officers are going to have some questions for you in a little while, do you understand?” Shannon asked me. “Your injuries are minimal. You have some scrapes that will need fresh bandages and antiseptic daily, but nothing too serious. They shouldn’t leave scars, but you’ll have some pain and discomfort for the next several days. You may have a broken rib, and your forehead is slightly bruised, as are your upper arms.

“You also need to be aware of the fact that you have a minor concussion. It’s important that you stay awake for the next hour or so, and when you do eventually go to sleep for the night, someone needs to wake you every few hours to check your condition. Do you have anyone who can help take care of you? Your parents?”

I shook my head.

“What about a roommate? A boyfriend, maybe?”

My eyes left her face and once again found Finn in the crowd. He was still facing off with the police officers, trying his damnedest to get to me, but he seemed to be losing hope. The look of dejection and defeat on his face would’ve brought my to my knees – had I been standing and had my knees not already been ripped to shreds, that is.

“Officers,” I called out, with as much strength as I could suffuse into my voice; I hoped it would be enough for them to hear me over the noise of the sirens and the gathering crowd. “Please, let him through. He’s my boyfriend.”

The officers – one of whom I recognized as Officer Carlson, the semi-pudgy policeman who’d investigated the break-in at my apartment – turned to me and nodded. Dropping their arms to allow Finn to pass, he was at my side in an instant. His arms folded around me gently, as though he was afraid I might shatter if he touched me too roughly.