“I need some help!” I yelled as I ran into the ER. Staff rushed from the back and took Xaire from me. I ran with them to the back as they worked on him.
“What happened?” the doctor asked as they cut his shirt from him.
“I don’t know,” I lied. “I was with my brother and saw him on the side of the road a few blocks from here. I didn’t even think twice about it, just snatched him up, applied pressure to his wounds, and got him here.”
“You never saw him before?” he asked as they looked over him.
“Nah,” I answered, then took a pair of gloves from a nurse. The doctor glared at me as I put on the gloves. He was a young nigga, probably no older than thirty-five, skinny, kind of tall, long face, short beard, dark eyes that looked like he knew shit that he shouldn’t, and a short, neat cut. He looked more like one of the hood niggas that I knew than a doctor, but I also knew that looks were deceiving; people always said I didn’t look or act like a doctor. “I’m a trauma doctor. Either let me help or kick me the fuck out.”
He paused for a second, looked around, then nodded and moved around a nurse. “Alright,” he agreed then turned to a different nurse. “Call the chief and let him know what’s going on down here with Dr. Stone and make sure he has privileges.” She nodded then did what he asked.
The nurse who I took the gloves from started cutting his clothes off, and I helped her. “The tag on his shirt says his name is Xaire,” I said, holding up his shirt. Ta’lon, useless no-good ass, just saved me from another lie.
“Alright, we got a name,” the doctor said. He turned to the nurse beside him. “Cross-type his blood and call the blood bank. We are going to need as much blood as possible. Get surgery on the line, tell them they need to prepare for him, and call DFS and the police. Somebody did this to him, and I want them caught one way or another.” Everybody started moving faster as he gave instructions. “What’s your name?”
“Dr. Amethyst Stone,” I answered, and he nodded.
“When we’re done with him, we need to discuss your future here,” he said as he continued to work on Xaire. “Whateverhospital you were working at needs to know you’ve been snatched by the best.” He looked up at me and smirked. “And if them niggas got a problem, they can talk to me about it, but I bet you the conversation ain’t gonna go like they think.”
***
“A hundred and thirty-six stitches,” I said to Ta’lon as I circled her. It’d been five days since I saw her, and truthfully, I thought I’d never see her alive again. Since leaving that hotel room, my focus has been on Xaire. He was fighting for his life, he’d lost a lot of blood, and Ta’lon had beaten him within an inch of his life, but he was strong. Little man was holding on, and when he pulled through this shit, I was going to come after Ta’lon myself personally. Fuck that no-touching-women pact, this one was personal.
“What?” She lifted her head slowly and stared at me. Her lips were so chapped that the skin was peeling off in chunks. Her hair was matted to her head, and she was bruised all over her body. Xia had left her face untouched, which made me curious about why.
“That’s how many stitches Xaire has,” I said, circling her. Her back was cut and bleeding. I could tell from the way it looked that those cuts were likely infected, or at least going to be soon. “A hundred and thirty-six.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” she chuckled and shook her head. “He’s supposed to be dead.”
“But he’s not!” I yelled as I got in her face. “He survived! He’s lying in a fucking hospital, drugged up so he doesn’t go into shock because of the pain, but he’s a fucking live!”
“You want a cookie?” She rolled her eyes. “Or better yet, you think he deserves one?” She smiled, and her bottom lip split open.
“Nah,” I said, shaking my head. I used Yale’s ponytail holder, which I always wore around my wrist, to tie my hair up. “I want my pound of fucking flesh.”
“Get it,” she said, shrugging. I knew her shoulders had to hurt from being tied up for so long, but she didn’t look like she cared. “Aint shit you can do to me that hasn’t already been done.”
I sat in the chair across from her and watched her. Ta’lon had the same empty look in her eyes that Shelly had when I helped her at the hotel. I sat forward, resting my elbows on my legs, and dropped my head. “Them niggas did a number on y’all, huh?” I asked with a humorless laugh.
“Who?”
“The Kilmores,” I answered and lifted my head. Ta’lon was watching me hard, and I could tell what I said was true. “That nigga Quincy fucked up your mental that bad? How old were you when you married him? Sixteen? You were a fucking baby, didn’t know shit about life, and he was what? Twenty?” I nodded, then sat back. “You were a fucking victim. I get that, I do, but tell me how the fuck did you get mixed up with my brother if you were his wife?”
“Business,” she spat, and I lifted my brow. “I was a fucking business deal to him. Our daddies grew up together, spent money together, built empires together.” She laughed and shook her head. “I started fucking around with Quincy because I wanted the power, and I had a pussy.”
“So, you were using that nigga?” I asked, surprised, why she was freely giving information like that. But there was nothing like a woman scorned, so I was going to sit, ask questions, and collect all the information I could.
“Or so I thought.” She licked her lips. “That nigga had other plans.”
“You married him, so was that your idea or his?”
“His daddy,” she answered quickly. “I told him I was pregnant; his daddy couldn’t let his son walk around looking like a deadbeat, so he married me.” She started to laugh, then suddenly stopped. “Then he beat the baby out of me.”
“Why stay with him after that?” I crossed my ankles and put my hands in my lap. “You were free.”
“You’re never free from the Kilmores,” she snorted in disbelief. “You only go free once they have no use for you.”
“Yale’s free,” I replied, and she smirked like she knew a secret I didn’t.
