Stranger
Stranger Than ...
IS SHE GONNA
make it, Doc?"
"I don't know. She's lost a lot of blood."
"Can she identify her assailant?"
"We won't know until she's conscious."
"What are you saying -- she's in a coma?"
"It's too soon to say. She was white as a sheet when they paged me. She's stable for now. We'll know more when she comes around. You may as well go on home now and get some rest. I'll call you if there's any change."
"Can I at least see her?"
"Maybe just a minute or two."
She was at least breathing on her own. Peaceful . . . If there was one word that described the expression on her face, that would be it -- peaceful. She was such an angel.
My angel.
My soulmate.
Confidant.
Lover.
Wife.
The mother of my children.
How could this be happening? How could this have happened to such a lovely person?
I wasn't sure what actually did happen. More than thirty eyewitnesses watched it happen here in the lobby of this very building where she works -- worked? -- as a patient advocate.
It took three big strong guys to pull him off of her. There was blood all over the place. His arms and hands were covered in it.
They've got him in custody and are still questioning some of the people who watched it go down.
He works here -- maybe not anymore -- as a custodian.
One of the guests who saw it -- they call them guests instead of patients since it's technically a sanitarium, not a hospital -- I guess this guest is a lawyer or something. He told him not to say anything.
So far he hasn't.
That's not stopping everyone else from talking, though there's not much helpful information out there --
Mostly "I'm sorry" or
"The poor thing" or
"Can you imagine?" or
the not-so-veiled outrage: "Where's security when you need 'em?" sort of thing.
The whole lobby's taped off.
Forensic's already taking pictures and samples. They even tried to chalk off where she lay. Hard to do with all that blood. I thought they only did that when someone died. That was the first thing I saw when I got here. They had already moved her.
How could anybody do that to someone? -- Right out in plain sight, no less.
I'm only getting fragments, I know. But if there's any truth to them.
Apparently nobody saw him knock her out.
Some saw him just before. He was pushing a mop in one of those yellow buckets on wheels.
Some said they heard the mop handle hit the marbled part of the floor, but by then, he had her down on the carpet.
They say he acted like a madman -- tore her skirt off.
Spread her legs.
Ripped her panties right off her exposed body.
Then started stuffing them right in. I don't even want to think about it . . .
That's when one of the bellhops dove through the air, knocking him off.
But then he got right back on top of her, ripping her blouse clean off. Apparently he had in mind to stuff that in her too if those other two guys hadn't pulled him off and pinned him down.
Someone hollered, "Call an ambulance!"
Someone else yelled, "What for? She's already in a hospital! Get a gurney and call the police!"
Doctors came running and took control of the situation.
One of them covered her with his jacket. That's gonna be some cleaning bill . . .
I hope that janitor fries for this. I guess you can't expect rapists to have any sense of basic decency.
Tongues will be wagging for sure. If she survives this, I'm not sure she'll wanna come back here to work. I wasn't there, but I'm sure that's an image that will be hard to forget.
Her hand is cold.
There's so much I wish we had done … things I wish I had said.
How much she means to me.
How much I love her.
She's such a saintly mother.
She's my life. My very reason for being.
The doctor puts his hand on my shoulder. "We'd better let her rest. Go home and get some sleep. I'll call you when she's awake." He nods reassuringly.
I let her fingers slip out of my hand.
I kiss her forehead.
I leave.
No sooner do I get home to an empty house -- my sister-in-law had the kids -- than my cell phone rings. I'm almost afraid to answer it. I knew I should have stayed.
"Hello?"
"She's awake now. She's asking for you."
I forget to say thanks or goodbye or even hang up properly.
I could have used a police escort the way I was driving, tears of hope streaming down my face.
I wipe my eyes on my sleeve as I impatiently wait for the elevator.
The doctor is waiting for me out in the hall. "Don't stay too long. I think she's going to be OK, but we'll want to keep her overnight for observation."
Her color is back.
She's smiling.
No sign of trauma or anguish …
That same angelic face.
"Are you okay?" I ask, the concern in my trembling voice unconcealed. I kneel down beside her bed and take her hand.
She brushes the tears from my cheeks.
"I feel so tired.
"They won't let me see him."
"Who? Your attacker? Of course not!" My righteous indignation rises with the bile in my throat.
"No, honey -- the man who saved my life."
"What?! What are you talking about?"
"I fainted.
"The doctor said I was hemorrhaging.
"The only way to stop the bleeding was what he did. By packing me the way he did, he was able to put enough pressure on the broken blood vessel so the rest of my blood …
"They say another few seconds and I would have bled out. I just want to thank him. But I guess that'll have to wait."
This is too much for me. I guess the brain isn't meant to reconcile as much hate as I had built up for this man with as much of a debt of thanks that I owe him. He saved my wife's life!
The light slowly fades to black …