Carrying Hope (5 page)

Sinking to the ground with my back pressed against the cool brick wall, I let my tears overcome me again. I hated being so weak. I hated admitting that I was the one that made the choices that led me to this place. I thought back to Kevin and how unconcerned he’d been with my plight. Did he ever really care about me? Or was I just a live-in booty call? I hated that all evidence pointed to the latter. How did I not see that? Was I so blind by my need to be loved?

A loud thump startled me, making me jump. I looked both ways down the alley, but all I saw were the shifting shadows of creepy crawlies. I shivered and hugged my knees, gripping my new can of mace with white knuckles.

The air around me was thick with the smell of beer. It made me think of my father. I remember coming home from school (when I was still attending) only to spend the night picking up his empties and making sure he didn’t burn the house down. Luckily, Dad had never been a violent drunk. He was really just hopeless. Heartbroken after my mother’s abandonment, he stopped going to work, stopped taking care of us, and eventually gave up on life completely. There was a point when he was so sick that he couldn’t even drink anymore and then he was just gone. Though I knew I would never see her again, I would never be able to forgive my mother for what she’d done to us. To be perfectly honest, I didn’t even know if she was still alive. I didn’t care either.

A chilly wind whipped through the tight alley, making me shiver. So much for it not being cold out.

I heard another loud thump and decided that it wasn’t something to ignore. Slowly, I stood, my backpack firmly strapped to my shoulder and my hand clenched around the mace in a vice-like grip.

Shouting. Someone was shouting. I couldn’t hear what was being said, but there were two voices. They sounded like they were fighting. It was probably some drunken brawl or a couple of homeless fighting over their territory. I knew I shouldn’t, but I decided to investigate.

I inched my way down the alley toward the corner the noises were coming from. They were still shouting unintelligibly at one another. Then I heard the sickening sound of a fist connecting with someone’s face. I’d heard it plenty of times when I worked at the gambling hall. Countless men got roughed up when they couldn’t make their payments on time. Somehow I’d always avoided that fate.

Still, my heart went out to whoever was on the receiving end of the blow. Again, I told myself I should just stay out of it. It didn’t concern me. It was none of my business and I didn’t need any more trouble. Yet my feet moved forward.

The next noise sounded like a kick to the stomach. That was the last straw for me. It was one thing to be drunk or whatever and be in a fair fight, but kicking a man when he was down was the lowest of the low.

I rounded the corner at a sprint and nearly tripped over the man lying on the ground. All I could see of his face was covered with blood that gushed from his nose. The man standing over him looked strung out — probably meth, I thought, judging by the nasty scabs covering his face and the nervous twitchy way he kept bouncing around — and was poising himself for another kick.

“Hey!” I shouted, shoving him back. He was stronger than his wispy frame would have led me to believe and he barely swayed at all from my forceful push.

The man on the ground groaned and tried to move away from his attacker before the next blow landed on him.

The tweaker looked surprised to see me; his eyes were wild and feral, his clothes were covered in all sorts of bodily fluids I didn’t want to try to identify, and he stank like he’d just come out of the sewer. His matted hair stuck out at odd angles and his bushy eyebrows knitted together to form one single brow across his forehead. He bared his rotten teeth at me and growled. I panicked, thinking he was going to bite me. I didn’t even want to know what kind of crazy diseases he was carrying.

He lunged at me; I met him with my mace, spraying it directly into those deranged eyes. He roared in pain and lashed out blindly, striking me near my temple. I went down like a sack of potatoes, hitting my head on the ground as he fled the scene. My vision tunneled as consciousness slipped away from me and my only thought was that I hoped the man next to me was okay.

I laid on the ground in agony, covered in blood, and disoriented. Right after I hung up with Tanner, this junkie came out of nowhere and tried to mug me. I was drunk and irritable and probably not as cooperative as I should have been. The next thing I knew, I was getting my ass kicked in the middle of the street. I tried to curl up into a ball to stop the blows from landing on me. I just wanted this horrible nightmare to be over.

Then, the answer to my prayers came: an angel with a can of pepper spray. I don’t know what possessed her to interfere, but I was eternally grateful. I tried to pick myself up and my battered body protested. I assumed that the girl fled with the junkie. Most people around here wouldn’t stick around to have their name attached to a police report, not even as a Good Samaritan.

I rolled onto my side, pushing down the urge to puke that came from getting kicked in the gut. I started to take inventory of my injuries. My nose was possibly broken, one rib definitely was, but other than that, I considered myself lucky. If that madman had a knife or a gun, I would be dead. I might be anyway if it hadn’t been for my savior.

It was then that I heard a soft feminine grunt from behind me. I whipped my head around, immediately regretting it thanks to the sharp pain in my head. She was still here! And she looked injured. A fierce protective instinct washed over me, catching me off-guard. I quickly pulled out my phone and dialed for an ambulance. Whatever her injuries, whatever the cost, I would take care of her; she saved my life.

I pulled myself up from the ground and approached her slowly. I didn’t want to frighten her. Nudging her shoulder gently, I realized she was unconscious. I rolled her over onto her back and my breath caught in my throat. Even unconscious with the purple beginnings of a black eye, she was beautiful. Her breathing was steady and even and her heartbeat was strong. I allowed myself to release a sigh that I didn’t know I was holding; she was okay.

Red flashing lights rapidly approached and I did the only reasonable thing I could think of: I checked her wallet for an ID and formulated a story to tell the paramedics. I couldn’t have them whisking her away to the hospital without me. I needed to thank her for her kindness, reward her for her bravery, and —for some inexplicable reason— I needed to stay by her side to make sure she was safe.

“Nice to meet you, Marcia Elanor Gallagher,” I muttered, stuffing her wallet back into her backpack before anyone could spot my sneaky behavior. Maybe it wasn’t ethical, but I wanted to be there when she awoke and the only way I could do that was to pretend that we were family.

The paramedics arrived only moments before the police. Marcia’s eyes fluttered open as the sirens blared through the street. I was captivated by the depths of her cinnamon-colored eyes. Again, I was surprised at my own reaction to this random woman. As suddenly as they’d opened, her eyes rolled back and closed again.

“What happened?” A young paramedic asked as he started to attach various monitors and machines to her limp body.

“We were mugged.” I went on to explain the rest of the events in detail… or at least my newly concocted version of the events. My “fiancée” and I were minding our own business when we were attacked. I hoped that she would understand my motivations and not be angry with me. I hoped that she didn’t have an actual fiancé somewhere that was going to swoop in.

“Will I be able to ride to the hospital with you?”

The younger man moved in a whirlwind, his routine practiced and efficient.

“Yeah, the police are going to want to talk to you. You should let us check you out, too.”

I shook my head, ignoring the dull throb that emanated from my sinuses.

“I’m fine. I’m just worried about her.”

He nodded, a silent male understanding passing between us.

“Well, at least let the nurses clean you up at the hospital. You don’t want to scare her when she wakes up.”

I looked down at my blood-covered shirt and knew that my face must look like a disaster. I didn’t even want to think about the bruises I was going to have. None of it mattered at that moment though.

A short Hispanic police officer blocked my path to the ambulance.

“Excuse me, sir; we’re just trying to get a description of the man that attacked you.”

I bounced on my heels anxiously; the EMTs were closing up the ambulance and getting ready to leave.

“Look, can this wait? I want to ride with my fiancée.” I gestured widely, trying to catch the paramedic’s eye. I didn’t want them to leave without me.

“We can give you a ride to the hospital, sir,” the officer said bluntly.

“I don’t want a ride from you. I want to ride with my fiancée.”

She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“The sooner we can get a description of this guy out there, the better the chance we have of catching him.”

I clenched my jaw, trying to hide my annoyance. Making enemies with the cops wasn’t really high on my list of priorities.

I wanted to tell her that I didn’t care about the guy that attacked me. I didn’t care if they caught him. I just wanted to make sure this mysterious woman was unharmed. If she suffered any permanent damage, then I would worry about catching the bastard that hurt her. My methods would be a thousand times more effective than the police’s anyway.

Swallowing my pride, I nodded curtly and gave a hasty description. I told her that I really didn’t remember much. It was true; I didn’t mention that I was heavily intoxicated at the time of my attack. Adrenaline and concern for the woman that saved me had sobered me better than any amount of coffee or cold showers.

“Is that all you can remember, sir?”

I sighed.

“Yes. I told you everything I remember. It was dark; he came out of nowhere and started kicking my ass. I didn’t really have a chance to memorize his facial features while blood was gushing from my face. My fiancée may remember more. I think she got a better look at him than I did.”

She narrowed her steely gaze at me without an ounce of sympathy in her bones.

“Well, if you remember anything else, let us know.”

“I will,” I shouted over my shoulder as I sprinted to the ambulance. Each step was agony on my broken rib. Every breath sent shooting pain through me. It didn’t matter; I’d made it in time.

As the ambulance pulled away from the scene of the crime, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and called Tanner again. If I waited any longer, he’d kick my ass twice as hard.

His phone rang and rang. Finally, I got his voicemail. It wasn’t like Tanner to ignore my calls, so he was probably busy with a lady or a job. I felt guilty for interrupting either one, but then again, I had an ass-kicking to consider.

“Hey, it’s me. Don’t freak out, but I’m on my way to the hospital. Everything’s fine. I’ll tell you more later.” I cringed as I hung up the phone, imagining his reaction when he listened to it. He would immediately assume the worst. My disclaimer wouldn’t do anything to placate a chronic worrier like Tanner.

I glanced over my shoulder to the back of the ambulance, hoping to see some sign of movement from Marcia.

“She’s going to be all right,” the driver commented.

I turned my gaze back to the road, nodding silently. I knew he was probably used to making idle chit chat with stressed out family members. I knew he was only trying to alleviate my fears. Unfortunately, until she was cleared by a doctor, nothing was going to do that.