CHAPTER 30 | Dallas
I ’m not ready for the scene that unfolds when I pull up to my apartment. Abby’s bike sits parked in her normal spot. I spot a set of keys on the steps behind her bike at the same time I hear a cry from the far end of the parking lot. Sam stands over Abby like he’s looking at a piece of roadkill. Even from this far out, I can see the smile on his face like he’s proud of his handiwork as he kneels next to her. I pull up only a few feet from them causing Sam to twist around. My bike barely stops as I lay it down and jump from the seat. Sam scrambles across the concrete, taking safety inside his vehicle as he tears away from the scene, wheels squealing behind him. I barely have my helmet off as I get to where Abby lies. The pool of blood under her head is the first thing I see.
I look into her eyes, hoping to still see her conscious. I thank whatever Gods are watching when I see her chest rise and fall slowly, and life that still lives in her tear-filled eyes, but only just barely. I look around for anyone available and spot someone walking out of the building.
“Call 911!” I yell. “Call 911!”
The woman leaving the building sees the scene and quickly gets on the phone.
“Abby? Help is coming. I’ve got you. You’re going to be okay.” The pool of blood is building. Instincts kick in. I pull off my sweatshirt, lift her head, and press the fabric to the spot that appears to be bleeding though I can’t tell where it’s coming from. Abby moans from the movement. She squeezes her eyes shut.
“I know. I’m sorry, but I have to stop the bleeding. Can you tell me what else hurts?” I look around at the rest of her for any other signs of major harm besides the cuts and bruises on her face and spot the forming bruises on her neck and arms. She takes a shaky breath and winces again. I lift her shirt slightly to see the bruising on her ribs.
“Where the fuck is the ambulance?” I yell at no one in particular.
The lady stands only a few feet away. “It’s coming. They should be here any second. Is she okay?” the lady asks, gripping her phone tightly.
What I really want to say to her is, “Of course she’s not okay. Do you see her?” but I say instead, “I hope so,” as calmly as I can. My voice shakes at the words as the real worry sets in. I’ve taken enough anatomy classes to know that much bruising on the ribs could be bad news. If there are broken ribs, which there’s almost no way there isn’t, one could have punctured a lung. There could be internal bleeding. Any number of things could be wrong in addition to the cracked skull.
I hear the sirens in the distance and breathe a sigh of relief as they pull up.
“What happened?” the paramedic asks as he jumps from the vehicle.
“Her ex-boyfriend happened. He beat the shit out of her.”
“Injuries?” he asks. He pulls the gurney over to us with a female paramedic in tow.
“I think she cracked her head open. I’ve got pressure on it but it’s still bleeding. There’s some bruising on her neck, arms, and ribs. She might have cracked a few of them because she winces when she breathes too deeply.” When I look back at her, her eyes are closed. Panic sets in. “Abby? Abby, stay with me, okay? I need you to wake up.” I shake her arm lightly, causing her eyelids to flutter open. “That’s it. Good. Stay awake for me, okay?”
“Keep pressure on her head for me. My name is Clara. What’s her name?” she asks me as the other paramedic preps the gurney.
“Abby,” I say quickly but correct myself. “Abigail Cooper. I don’t know her middle name.
She nods. “And who are you to her?”
“I uh,” I stutter, unsure of what to say. We hadn’t really gotten to talking about that part yet. “I’m Dallas. She’s my roommate.”
“Okay. We’re going to help her. Rafi’s going to load her up on the gurney and we’ll get her to the hospital,” she says as a cop arrives at the scene. Clara smiles at the officer who climbs out, a young guy, but he looks ready for anything. “Hey, Ben.”
“Hi, I’m Officer Ben Arnold. What do we got?” he asks, pulling out a notepad.
“Abigail Cooper. She and her ex-boyfriend got into it—”
“No, no, no. They didn’t 'get into it,'” I correct. “Her ex is abusive. He’s been beating her for months. She just got out of the relationship three weeks ago and moved in with me.” My heart races faster as I explain.
Clara nods as I do. “My apologies. This is Dallas, her roommate. Looks like a fractured skull and some bruising. Dallas says possibly some cracked ribs as well. He’s been keeping her awake. That’s all I’ve gotten so far.”
Rafi approaches with the prepped gurney and lowers it next to Abby. “Okay, let's get her on and loaded into the bus.”
Clara and Rafi make quick work of their care. They place a brace around her neck and wrap her head. It takes everything in me not to step in and help, but I know I need to let them work. Once she’s in the ambulance, I head toward the back to hop in with her.
“Sir, I’m going to need a statement from you,” Officer Arnold says, placing a hand on my shoulder.
“I need to go with her,” I say, almost shouting.
“I understand, but the more information I get right now, the sooner we can catch whoever did this.” He stays calm, resting his hands on his vest.
“I’m not leaving her!” I yell, looking back at the ambulance. Clara stands at the back door with a sympathetic expression.
“Okay, sir. Can you give me a name and description of the suspect?” he asks.
“Samuel Johnson. Blue jeans, black shirt, skinny blonde. Can I go now?” I ask frantically.
“Of course. Thank you. I’ll meet you at the hospital so we can discuss this further.”
I run to the ambulance and hop in, sitting next to Abby. She’s looking around, seeming confused about where she is.
“Abby? Hey, I’m here.” I grab her hand and she squeezes mine, hard. She smiles as a tear falls to her ear. She seems to have regained a bit of lucidity.
“Hi.” It’s strained, barely a whisper.
The ride to the hospital feels like it takes forever. Clara asks questions, allowing Abby to answer what she can, and then asks me if Abby can’t. What I realize quickly is that I don’t know Abby as well as I thought I did. Allergies. Medications. Family. I feel almost useless. But what doesn’t waver is the realization that Abby wants me here. She grips my hand the entire way to the hospital and when we arrive, she almost refuses to let go. A different officer meets us at the hospital. Doctors and nurses crowd around us as they roll her into a room. They start pushing me out of the room to work on her.
“I need to stay with her!” I yell, trying to push past the nurse who’s holding me back.
“Sir, I’m sorry, but we need you to wait out here. We will call you in as soon as she’s stable. I promise.”
I see Abby’s eyes go wide as she realizes I’m not with her anymore. “Please, she needs a familiar face. She’s just been beaten half to death. Don’t do this to her,” I beg. I suddenly realize I’m almost crying.
“I need you to wait out here. We will go as quickly as we can,” he says, before shutting the door and locking me out.
I sink into the nearest chair, where all the emotions I’ve been forcing back finally flood over me and I cry. The sadness, anxiety, and anger officially take over. I hold my face in the palms of my hands and run them through my hair down the back of my neck. I force my breathing to regulate, trying to compose myself. My jaw is sore from clenching so tightly. I lower my shoulders and take a deep breath. All of this seems silly as I wait to hear the status of the woman I’ve come to love. God, do I really love this girl? After only three weeks?
My emotions get the best of me. For the first time in a while, I allow myself to feel all of them. Even if all at once. The feeling is visceral. It’s rooted deep within me. My desire and need to take care of this woman is my only goal in life. She deserves the world, but she’s been given nothing but torture for years. She can’t keep living like that. She deserves to be happy. She deserves to feel wanted and loved. It takes a strong person to survive the misery she’s been living.
And who the fuck does Sam think he is getting to dictate how she lives her life? She owes him nothing. She doesn’t owe anyone anything. He’s got a complex. One that I’d love to knock out of him. That dick deserves a beating again, worse than that of Abby’s. I’d willingly do it in a heartbeat.
“Dallas?” a voice says from down the hall. When I look, I see Officer Arnold looking around the room. I stand. He moves to shake my hand and then sits in the chair next to me. “Hi. I apologize for how we left things. You have to understand I have a job to do. I want to take care of Ms. Cooper just as you do.”
“Of course. I’m sorry for freaking out. I was being pulled in two directions and I didn’t know what to do.” I shake my head.
“I understand. I’ve been told they are still caring for her. I’ve started the paperwork for this case, but until I can talk to Abby, I won't be able to do much without more information. Do you know if she wants to press charges?” he asks.
“God, I hope so. That fucker deserves to be behind bars. You guys can press charges without her permission, though, right?”
“We can, and we will. But I need to see the extent of the damage to her. It’ll help us solidify the case.”
I sigh, relief washing over me. What is taking so long? I look at the room they have Abby in and see the door and curtains still pulled shut. The wave of relief is quickly replaced by worry again. My brows scrunch together as I picture the bruising strewn across her body, bruising I wish I could take for myself, or, even better, give to Sam.
The squeal of a door echoes through the bustling halls of the ER. I stand quickly when a nurse leaves Abby’s room.
“Is she okay? Can I see her?”
He smiles at the officer before addressing me. “She’s stable and conscious, but very tired and sore. We gave her an IV of pain meds and antibiotics to help with the pain and open wounds. She has a mild skull fracture. She also sustained a few broken ribs but nothing further. Her lungs are okay. Additionally, she has some bruising from the strangulation, but again, nothing serious.”
“Motherfucker,” I spit. Rage runs through me as I take in the news. It hits differently, hearing the words out loud from a stranger even though I saw the marks. My chest feels tight, and my cheeks are hot. “This should never have happened. I should have been there,” I say, shaking my head. I rake my hands through my hair and pace the floor. “Can I see her?” I look up at the nurse as he starts to leave.
“Are you family?”
“I uh ... no.” I try not to let myself look as defeated as I feel.
“It’s okay, Danny. You can let this one slide. He was at the original scene. Roommate, right?” Officer Arnold raises a brow at me.
I nod rapidly, a smile forming.
The nurse, Danny, nods once. “Okay. There are a few things to finish up, but you should be able to go in shortly.” He smiles politely before leaving us in the hall.
I look back to the officer, who is scribbling notes on his notepad. “What happens now?” I ask, having never been in this situation before.
He clears his throat. “Now, I get a statement from you, and hopefully from Abby with permission to press charges. It’ll be much easier if she cooperates with the investigation. I’ve got a female detective on her way as well in case she’d feel more comfortable talking to a woman.” Someone calls him over his walkie before he stands and dismisses himself. “Excuse me. I’ll be right back.”
Left alone to my own thoughts in this rowdy, yet completely forlorn hallway leaves so much room for my mind to run wild. I sit back down in a chair across from her room, and watch the door impatiently, hoping I can order it open. I don’t know how much time passes before two nurses leave her room. “Can I go in?” I ask quickly.
“Of course. Just be gentle and careful around all the cords and tubes,” one of them says, holding the curtain back for me.
I almost run past her. I don’t know what I was prepared for when I got in there, but it wasn’t this. Abby lays on a hospital bed with her head wrapped in a new white cloth, an IV in one arm, a blood pressure cuff on her other, and somehow, the bruising has worsened since I saw her in the ambulance. She smiles when I walk in, but I can’t bring myself to get any words out. How do I comfort someone after such a horrific situation? Especially when I can’t hold them. I feel like if I touch her, she’s going to fall apart, shatter to pieces. But then I remind myself that after what she’s been through, she’s tougher than I give her credit for.
“Hi,” she says, voice hoarse, after I’ve been standing there for a while.
“Hey,” I finally say. “How are you?” I ask but immediately regret the question. “Don’t answer that. Stupid question.” I shake my head and pull the spare chair up to the side of her bed.
She chuckles, but she winces with the movement. “I’m alive, I guess.” Neither of us says anything for a moment but she holds her palm flat on the bed beside me. When I take her hand, she squeezes, so I squeeze back. Her warm skin eases my nerves, which have been firing a million miles a minute since finding her. Taking a deep breath, I let myself relax, but not fully. This isn’t over yet.