Chapter LXIX
CHAPTER LXIX
I regained consciousness shortly before the ambulance arrived, but only because Ammon Nadeau was trying to put something under my head to cushion it, which wasn’t helping at all.
“Get away from me,” I said, or something like it. I didn’t want Ammon causing any more damage than had already been done, but I also didn’t care to have his hands on me.
Ammon looked hurt by the rejection.
“I called nine-one-one,” he said, as I heard a siren in the distance, even as it struggled to make itself heard over the ringing in my head. I threw up on what passed for the Nadeau lawn and my blurred vision picked out blood. I wasn’t surprised. My mouth tasted of it, and I could feel it leaking from whatever was left of my nose.
“I didn’t think he’d beat up on you,” said Ammon.
That wasn’t worthy of a response so I didn’t offer one. I felt like I wanted to die and the only thing stopping me was wanting Wyatt Riggins to die more. Plus, the ambulance pulled up, accompanied by a patrol car from the Somerset County Sheriff’s Office, and both the medics and the deputy were reluctant to let me expire peacefully. I was taken to Redington-Fairview General, where the emergency room doctor asked about next of kin and I gave her Angel’s number before immediately throwing up again. I was X-rayed, scanned, and sedated— or maybe it was the other way around—before the blood was cleaned from my face and head, a scalp wound was stitched, my nose was reset, and I was told I’d be kept overnight for observation. I spotted Angel in the distance, but by then I was very woozy and wished everything would stop hurting.
Finally, I was wheeled into a private room by a pair of male nurses.
“Why couldn’t the last faces I see have been female?”
“I guess it just hasn’t been your day,” one of them replied.
“When is it ever?” I asked, and closed my eyes.