CHAPTER SIX #5
Understanding darkened the stranger's eyes. He had a neat curly low top fade and a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. Something about him looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place where I saw him at.
"Nobody else putting hands on you tonight," he said with quiet authority. "Not while I'm breathing."
Before I could respond, the McDonald's door banged open, and my heart nearly stopped. But it was just a teenager with headphones, oblivious to the drama unfolding inside.
"You need a hospital," the man said, his eyes never leaving mine as he assessed my condition. "That eye looking bad, and the way you holding your side, might be broken ribs."
"I can't," I sobbed. "I ain't got my insurance card, my purse, nothing."
"That's the least of your problems right now." He took a cautious step closer. "My whip's right outside. Let me take you to the ER."
I hesitated, years of street wisdom screaming not to trust a stranger. But what choice did I have? Jamie could show up any minute, and I was in no condition to fight nor run anymore.
“Shorty I know you don’t know me from Adam, but I swear on everything I'm just trying to help. My mama would roll over in her grave if she knew I left a woman bleeding on the floor." Something in his steady gaze convinced me. I gave a small nod.
"I'm gon’ have to carry you," he warned, nodding toward my bloodied feet. "You ain't walking on those, and you swaying like you about to drop anyway. Is that okay?"
Another nod, weaker this time as exhaustion and pain threatened to pull me under.
With surprising gentleness for a man his size, he scooped me up like I weighed nothing, one arm behind my back and the other under my knees. I tensed at first, then sagged against his solid chest, too tired to fight anymore.
"My ride's the black range rover," he told the McDonald's manager who was hovering nearby. "Can somebody get the door?"
Outside, the cool night air revived me enough to start struggling as panic set in again. "Wait, I don't even know you! Put me down!" "Shorty, Chill the fuck out," he grunted, tightening his hold as I squirmed. "I'm trying to help you. The hospital's less than ten minutes from here."
"I can't just leave with you! Ion even know you!" I protested, though my body betrayed me by continuing to lean into his warmth.
"I’m Yatta," he said simply, somehow managing to open his car's back door while still holding me. "Now you know me, and we aint strangers anymore."
Yatta. Something about the name tickled at the edges of my memory, but before I could place it, he was carefully laying me across his backseat.
"Try to stay awake," he instructed, draping his jacket over me. "I'll have you at the hospital in a minute."
The leather seats smelled of expensive cologne and something I couldn't place, it was clean but masculine. The car was immaculate, As Yatta slid into the driver's seat, I caught a glimpse of what looked like a gym bag and a stack of books on his passenger seat.
"Why you helping me?" I mumbled, fighting to stay conscious as he pulled away from the curb.
"Why wouldn't I?" he replied, eyes meeting mine briefly in the rearview mirror.
The streetlights flashed rhythmically across his face as we drove, illuminating a small scar near his temple and the focused set of his jaw. There was something calming about his presence, something solid and reliable that made my eyelids grow heavy despite the pain radiating through my body.
"Stay with me," his voice cut through the fog. "What's your name?"
"Zurie," I whispered. "Zurie Maddox."
I saw his eyes widen slightly in the mirror, a flash of recognition that didn't make sense. But before I could question it, we were pulling up to the emergency entrance of the University of Chicago hospital.
Yatta was out of the car and opening my door in seconds. Once again, he gathered me in his arms, carrying me through the sliding doors with an urgency that brought nurses running.
"She needs help," he called out, his deep voice carrying across the waiting room. "Somebody jumped her. She's hurt bad."
Everything became a blur of activity after that. There was a wheelchair that appeared, gentle hands transferring me from Yatta 's arms, questions being fired at me from multiple directions. Through it all, Yatta stayed at my side.
Only when they were wheeling me toward an exam room did I reach out, catching his wrist.
"Wait."
He paused, looking down at me with intense eyes behind his glasses.
"Thank you," I whispered, "I don't know what would've happened if—"
"Don't think about all of that," he cut me off gently. "You good now, and that's all that matters, take care of yourself, Zurie Maddox."
He stepped back, allowing the nurses to continue wheeling me away. By the time they'd hooked me up to monitors and a doctor had come to examine me, Yatta was gone.
As I laid there, answering the doctor's questions about my "accident," I couldn't stop thinking about the mysterious man who had helped me.
I had a feeling this wouldn't be the last time our paths crossed. And strangely, despite everything that had happened tonight, that thought didn't scare me at all.