Metal Urge (11 page)

****

It seemed like hours and hours had slipped away as Deanna stood across the street from Nigel’s flat, waiting for him to return from his afternoon adventure with her traitorous bitch of a so-called friend, Maggi Atwell.  Though she had eaten, her body shook with pain and fatigue.  In the back of her mind a little voice urged her to go home and get some rest---forget about Nigel---forget about everything, but she ignored it choosing instead to focus all of her hurt, humiliation, and rage on Nigel’s flat.  She breathed deeply summoning the strength she would need to confront the sorry bastard whose number one goal in life was to get his rocks off, not caring who he hurt in the process.  She hated herself for loving the selfish prick.  She should have known better---she should have paid attention to all of the warning signs.  Her heart beat faster when she heard the roar of the powerful Harley Davidson engine drawing near.  She couldn’t help but remember how her soul filled with joy in anticipation of being in Nigel’s arms, tasting his sweet lips whenever she heard the roar of the bike’s engine.

The memory turned sour in her mouth, and she wiped her fingers across her lips to get rid of its bitter aftertaste.

Nigel turned into a small alleyway and parked his bike next to a rundown garage behind his flat.  He entered the flat through the back door, pulling off his leather gloves, stuffing them into a zippered pocket on the side of his jacket.  He strolled into the kitchen, pulled a cold lager from the refrigerator, popped the cap on the edge of the countertop, and took a long, refreshing drink of the pungent brew.  He planned to finish the lager and then take a hot shower to wash away the aftermath of his unexpected romp with Maggi.  He called out to check if any of his mates were home and was thankful he got no response, especially from Thom.  He shrugged off his heavy leather jacket and was stripping off his T-shirt when he heard a loud knock at the front door.  Nigel ignored the insistent thuds and headed towards the bathroom.  The front door knob jiggled and he wondered if someone was trying to break in.  “Who’s there?” he shouted.

“Deanna.”

What was she doing here?  Wasn't she supposed to be studying with a school mate?  “Just a minute,” he called out to her and slipped his T-shirt back on.  He opened the door and looked at Deanna’s pale face marked by several livid scratches covered with dried blood.  “What happened to you?”  When she didn’t answer he hesitated, a bit unnerved by her appearance.  “Deanna?”

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“Yeah, sure,” he said and moved aside to let her enter.  He closed the door and watched her stop in the middle of the room with her back to him, saying nothing.  Nigel approached her, and she turned abruptly to face him, her eyes bright with unshed tears.  He noticed her torn jeans and blood-crusted knee and a knot formed in his stomach.  “Did someone hurt you?” he asked, reaching out to take her hand.

“I heard you, Nigel.  I heard you and Maggi.”  The tears spilled over her lower lids and down her cheeks.

“What do you mean you heard us?  What the hell are you on about?”  Nigel stepped back when she moved closer to him, her eyes blazing.

“Don’t you lie to me, you bastard!”  Deanna screamed. She lunged at him, fists pounding his face and chest.

Nigel yelped with pain as her fist slammed into his nose.  He felt a warm, sticky liquid drip onto his lip and he licked it, tasting blood.  “Bloody hell, Deanna!” he yelled.

She launched another attack but he fended her off by grabbing her wrists and forcing her to her knees.  She looked up at him, her features twisted with pain.

“Why did you sleep with Maggi?  You could have had anyone.  Why her, Nigel?  Why?”

He let go of one her wrists to wipe the dripping blood from his nostrils and Deanna grabbed his T-shirt, twisting it until the fabric ripped at the neck seam.

“What the fuck do you want from me?”  He shouted, trying to pull her hand away from his ruined shirt.

Deanna tried to get to her feet, but he wrestled her back down, afraid she would try to attack him again.  She slumped against his legs, sobbing. “I gave you everything I had…everything that made me who I was.  There's nothing left.  I’m empty inside because you took it all, and I want it back.”  Struggling to lift her head she pleaded with him in a small, shaky voice, “Give me back my life…please, Nigel.  Please.”

Numb with shock, he tried to pull Deanna to her feet but she was as limp as a rag doll, and he panicked when he realized that she had fainted.  Calling her name, he shook her arms trying to get a response as he struggled to lift her up from the floor.

The door banged open and Thom ran inside shouting, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing!”  He pried Nigel’s hands from Deanna’s arms and grabbed her before she toppled over and hit her head on the floor.  Thom tried to pick her up but she was dead weight and he couldn’t manage her alone.

Wiping his shaking hands on his jeans, Nigel reached down to help, but Thom clutched his arm and roughly shoved him back.  “Don’t you bloody touch her,” he snarled.

Nigel threw his hands up in the air and then grabbed his torn T-shirt, wiping his bloody nose with it.  “I didn’t hurt her, Thom.  You know I’d never do that.”

Thom cradled her limp body patting her face with the hem of his shirt. “What happened to her face, Nigel?  Are you gonna claim she did this to herself?”

“I don’t know what happened,” Nigel said, his voice muffled as he tried to staunch the flow of blood with his T-shirt.  “I asked her about it but she refused to answer.”

“Look at her knee,” Thom said, frowning at Nigel.  “It's scraped and swollen.”

“It was like that when she...when she came here,” Nigel said weakly.

Thom shook his head in disbelief.  “You don't think forcing her to her knees had anything to do with it?”

“Come off it, Thom.  You bloody well know I'd never hurt a woman, especially Deanna.”

“You had her on her knees, Nigel.  Of course you were hurting her, you bloody idiot!”  Thom looked up at Nigel and scowled.  “So, how do you explain the disgusting little scene I walked in on, eh?”

“She went mental.  I had to stop her...”  Nigel rubbed the back of his neck and paced around the room.  “She started screaming and hitting me...she gave me a bloody nose and tore my shirt.”  He pulled nervously at the ruined fabric and wiped his leaking nose with the back of his hand.

Nigel could see he was getting nowhere with Thom whose rage-filled eyes bored into him with such blazing intensity it almost burned his skin.  “Alright, mate!  Fuck!” Nigel scowled.  “I went to have a chat with Maggi this afternoon.”  He shook his head not keen to continue his story.  “Deanna was supposed to be studying at a school mate’s, and I needed to talk to Maggi about what happened between us the night I took her gear to the B & B.”

“So you slept with Maggi,” Thom said shaking his head in disgust.  “We all reckoned you did.”  Stroking Deanna’s face gently, he looked up at Nigel and frowned.  “You didn't get enough the first time so you went back for more, yeah?  God, Nigel...you're so bloody predictable.  It’s too bad Deanna couldn’t see you for what you really are.”

“That’s not fair, Thom!  Me and Maggi were just gonna talk...Deanna came home early...shit!”  Nigel toyed with the torn neck of his T-shirt, clearly distressed.  “I never imagined she'd hear us.  We didn't do it to hurt her, it was just...I dunno...stupid, mindless lust,” he shrugged helplessly.  “I'd be lying if I said I didn't care about Deanna.  I do, but she went completely mad and I had to…”

“I don’t want to hear any more of your bloody rubbish,” Thom cut him off with wave of his hand.  He caressed Deanna’s face, saying her name softly until she opened her eyes and looked at him.  “D’you think you can stand up?” Thom asked and she nodded.  He helped her to her feet and put his arm around her waist.  “D’you want me to take you home?”

“No.  I don’t have a home anymore.”

Thom glared at Nigel and guided Deanna to the door.  Nigel followed them pleading with Deanna to forgive him but she wouldn’t look at him.

“Where are you taking her?”

“That's none of your fucking business,” Thom snapped and led her out of the door to a small Mini parked in front of the flat.  He helped her into the tiny backseat and told her he’d be back in a few minutes.  She curled up on the seat and closed her eyes.

Feeling helpless, Nigel stood in the doorway rubbing his face, sick with remorse.

Thom walked up to him and pointed a finger in his face.  “You stay away from her, you hear?”  Nigel started to protest but Thom grabbed his blood-stained T-shirt and pulled him close.  “You’re a right bastard, you are, and if you come near her again you'll regret it.  Thom pushed Nigel away in disgust and went back to the car, gunning the engine, and driving away in a cloud of burnt rubber.

“You still blame me for Chloe, don’t you Thom?” Nigel shouted at the retreating car.  “And you always will,” he murmured sadly as he stepped into the hollow silence of the empty flat.

Chapter 16

Thom had no idea where to take Deanna, and although he had driven for over an hour, he couldn’t find a suitable hotel or bed and breakfast for her to stay at.  He wasn’t really familiar with London and had gotten lost, ending up in a rather dodgy area dominated by high-rise council housing and boarded-up shops.

Deanna squeezed his shoulder and asked him to stop the car.  He didn’t want to stop in this neighborhood, but she was moaning and crying that she was going to be sick.  He pulled over and she retched into the gutter a couple of times before collapsing against the backseat.  She was sweating; her blonde curls plastered to her face and neck.  “Something's wrong,” she groaned.

Thom told her to hang on while he tried to find a phone box to call 999.  She begged him to find a place where she could use the bathroom first.  Not wanting to upset her more than she already was, he reluctantly drove around until he spotted a grotty hotel with a flashing vacancy sign.  It wasn’t the sort of establishment that catered to decent people---it charged by the hour---but Deanna was bent over and barely able to stand so Thom paid for an hour and somehow got her up the dim stairway to their room.  He led her to the toilet and gasped when he saw the condition of the smelly, closet-sized room.  She pushed him away and shut the door.  Looking around with disgust, he decided he didn’t want to sit on the grimy bedspread so he leaned against the moldy wallpaper hoping she wouldn’t take long.  They needed to get out of this dirty place to a proper hospital where she could be examined thoroughly.

The sound of her moaning and sobbing scared the hell out of him.  There was something seriously wrong with her.  He knocked on the door several times asking if she was alright, but she didn’t answer.  Suddenly she screamed, and Thom grabbed the grimy door handle, his hand so slick with nervous sweat he couldn’t get it open for a moment.  Nothing could have prepared him for what had happened in that filthy bathroom, and he felt dizzy as he clung to the door to steady himself.  Deanna lay on the floor in a pool of spreading blood, her jeans pulled down and her panties soaked with the thick, clotted mess.  He quickly covered her with his jacket, praying to God that she would be alright until help arrived.  She was crying for her baby over and over again in a weak, reedy voice, and he longed to try and comfort her but there wasn’t time.

Thom sprinted down the stairs and shouted for the desk clerk to call an ambulance straight away; it was a matter of life and death.  The clerk dialed 999 immediately and within minutes Deanna was being placed in the back of an ambulance, still bleeding profusely.  The ambulance staff refused to allow Thom to ride with her, but gave him directions to the hospital she was being transported to.  He hopped in his car, driving like a madman through the heavy London traffic in a desperate attempt to keep up with the ambulance as it streaked through the city, siren blaring ominously.

****

The medicinal smell that permeated the pea green hallway was making Thom nauseous.  Hours had passed yet no one had reported Deanna’s condition to him.  He wasn’t about to leave her alone after the nightmare she had been through.  Clasping and unclasping his hands nervously, he sat and waited, hoping someone would talk to him soon.  A teenager dressed in a white coat coughed politely to get Thom's attention and asked if he was Mr. McCordy.  Thom nodded, looking him over as the kid identified himself as Dr. Hillman.  Staring at the doctor in disbelief, Thom asked if he was of drinking age.  Dr. Hillman smiled and admitted that he got that reaction all the time.  He turned serious as he explained to Thom that Deanna suffered a miscarriage and had lost a tremendous amount of blood which
required a blood transfusion.  It was necessary for her to remain in the hospital until she was stabilized.

Thom asked if he could see her, and Dr. Hillman said he could but for no more than ten or fifteen minutes.  The young doctor walked with him to Deanna’s ward, clasped Thom’s hand in his, and said he was so sorry for their loss.  A painful lump formed in Thom's throat, and he had to clear it before he could say thank you.  Just as he was about to leave, Dr. Hillman turned around and placed his hand on Thom’s shoulder.  “Miss Darmody had a very problematic miscarriage which required an emergency procedure,” he said softly.  “Often times it causes damage, sometimes even extensive damage.”  He cleared his throat and continued, “It might be difficult for her to get pregnant...we can't be sure until she tries to have a child again.”