The Rage(47)

Each step feels like a fucking lifetime. My feet are heavy and weighted. The elevator is slow and the paperwork is daunting. The questions are menial and exhausting. Walking through each hallway, past every room, the anxiety eats away at me. I can’t get there soon enough, yet I dread actually getting there. I feel like I’m on death row, taking my final walk to my fucking execution. For the first time in my life, I’m scared out of my fucking mind. I am scared shitless. I’m not sure that I can take those last steps that will bring me into that room.

The hallway has two uniformed officers standing against the wall. Standing beside them is a nurse and a woman with a clipboard, waiting for me. They all watch me as I walk up.

“Rampage?” The clipboard lady asks. I just nod. I’m not sure what to say.

“I’m Mrs. McDonald. I have a few questions to ask you, but first, I’ll need you to see the patient.” Again I nod. The clipboard takes a deep breath and gives me a grim smile and motions to a set of chairs at the end of the hall.

“Sit with me for a moment?”

I sit and stare. I sign a few forms. Now I’m listening numbly.

“As you may have gathered, the patient,” I stop her. I can’t fucking handle the word patient anymore. It sounds like death and sickness to me.

“Lailah.” I correct her.

Cocking her head, she says, “Excuse me?”

“Her name is Lailah.”

“I apologize. We don’t know for sure that it’s her. Until you see her, we just don’t know.”

But I do. I know.

“Well, when you go in there, I want you to be prepared. I want you to understand that the patient has endured some very serious injuries and was very malnourished when brought to us. She doesn’t look well, and you may not be able to even identify her due to such injuries. In fact, she may not look alive. I have seen quite a few horrendous cases of abuse, but this patient…Her face is distorted and has been damaged greatly, so please prepare yourself for that. At any time it gets too hard for you, leave the room. For anyone, seeing someone like this could cause emotional trauma, especially if it is a loved one.

I’ll never forget the number on the door, 303.

The room is warm and quiet. It looks like your average hospital room; dull, sterile, and clean. The faint smell of blood and disinfectant permeates the air and I hear the soft hum of machines… a lot of machines. My hand shakes as I push the door closed behind me. I make my way to the curtain that shields her. Taking a deep breath, I pull back the curtain and I drop to my knees.

She doesn’t look like my Lala, but I would know my goddamn angel anywhere, no matter what physical state she’s in. My heart fucking breaks and I just wanna throw up. Her face is twice the size it should be. It’s swollen black and blue with angry red cuts everywhere. Her lips are swollen and busted, one eye completely covered in gauze and medical tape. There is even gauze wrapped all around her head. With her arm wrapped in a cast, it seems like at least sixty percent of her body is covered in medical tape and gauze.

Various tubes and needles are stuck in what little skin isn’t completely damaged. The only thing that looks like my Lala is her hair. It’s long smooth and blonde.

I get up off my knees and take a step toward her bed. I feel fucking sick. My entire body is shaking and I can’t control it. My heart hurts. It physically fucking hurts. Each breath is painful. I’ve never been more scared in my life. I’ve never been more broken. Reaching out, I take one of the very few parts of her body that isn’t damaged – her wrist. Turning it over carefully,I find that little pink cursive “R“ on her wrist. It’s my Lala.

I break the fuck down. I can’t hold it back and I don’t want to. I haven’t cried since I buried my mom, and even those tears weren’t many. I didn’t cry for me, those tears were for the sad life my mom lived, and they were happy tears because she was finally free.

These tears are for me. For my Lala. I buried my head in my hands and I roared out my pain and cried like a goddamn baby. Take away my fucking man card and remove my balls. Call me a bitch. I don’t give a shit. I have never felt any pain like this in my entire life.

My baby didn’t deserve this shit, to be beaten nearly to death. This should have never happened. In my sick and twisted mind, I replay what she went through. I imagine how she got every mark, every break, every bruise in great detail, agonizing over every possible scenario. I imagine her taking this beating and not giving up, fighting for her life. I didn’t protect her. She was alone, and I was getting high and fucking anything in sight while she was just trying to stay alive.

I want to just crawl in that bed with her and hold her, let her know she will never be alone again if she stays with me. I want to tell her I will do any fucking thing in this world if she just fights a little harder to stay with me, but all I can do is hold her hand and pray to God that she can feel me. I pray she’s not in pain. Fuck I don’t want her to feel alone or scared.

“Lala, baby. I’m here.”

I’m not sure how long I sit there. I know I sit there holding her cold hand until clipboard lady sticks her head in the door.

“Rampage? Could we speak a moment?” For a second I debate on leaving Lala alone. I don’t want her to be alone. Fuck she shouldn’t have to be in this room alone.

“Send someone in here to sit with her.” Clipboard nods her head and a few minutes later, a nurse in pink scrubs comes in and starts checking her machines. “Sit with her ‘til I get back.” I tell her. I want Lala comfortable and with someone… anyone.

I find Clipboard sitting in the chairs at the end of the hall. Sitting down across from her, she looks at me with sad eyes.

“I take it that you know the patient?” I just nod. I don’t have any goddamn words for her or anyone for that matter. I’ll giver what she wants, and then I’m back with Lala. “What can you tell me about her?”

“Her names Lailah Ray, so stop callin’ her the goddamn patient for starters.”

This time it’s her turn to nod. “Alright. What else can you tell me about Lailah?” I tell her everything I know about her.

I answer every question, but before I go back to Lala, I need to know what happened to her.

“What happened to Lala? You know who did this?” But I know. There is only one motherfucker that’d do this shit to her.

“Yes. A neighbor found her. From the healing that had started before she was brought in, the doctor estimated that she’d been alone for twenty-four to thirty-six hours before she was found.” My stomach rolls. She was alone. She was fucking hurt and alone with no one to help her. She just laid there, suffering and dying all alone.

“Her skull is fractured, along with her jaw and the bone in her eye socket. She has several broken ribs, a punctured lung, internal bleeding, which was stopped with surgery once she was brought in, and a broken arm. She has various cuts, bruises, swelling and scrapes to her face and other parts of her body.” Fuck. My poor fucking girl. “It looks like she was hit repeatedly with a blunt object. The markings match that of the butt of a rifle, along with a fist and boot imprints. I think that it’s also important for you to know that she was sexually assaulted.” He’s gonna die. It is gonna be so slow and painful. I am going to make him beg me for death, but keep it just out of reach for him. That motherfucker is gonna bleed out slowly.



I sit with Lala for a long time. I don’t know how fucking long. Long enough for the sun to fall and rise again. I hold her hand, but I don’t look at her again. I can’t. I don’t want to see her that way, it’s just too fucking much.

A light knock echoes in the deathly silent room. Clipboard sticks her head in the room again.

“Rampage, I have one last thing for you before we finish up.” The last few days have been paperwork and interviews, then more paperwork and instructions. Paperwork and bullshit. I don’t know how much more I can take.

Walking out into the hall, I see Lil and Tank. They’ve been here with me, silently watching me try not to lose my shit again. Tank’s been making moves, finding things that have been hidden and setting shit up. Ryan was hidden, but now he’s being found. Lil’s been doing everything she can to be helpful and not drive me fucking nuts with her mother hen shit. As much as she drives me fucking crazy, I’m happy as hell she’s here. I’m happy I have my whole club watching my back.

“Rampage?” Lil’s broken voice makes my heart ache. Turning to look at her I can see she’s ready. She’s been working up to this for a few days. “Can I see Lala now?”

“Don’t gotta ask me, Sis. I ain’t gonna lie, it’s gonna be hard to see her like that, but let her know that your are here, okay? I think she needs to know she’s not alone anymore.”

“I’ll do that. Thank you for the heads up.” I give her a nod to go ahead. I know she loves her, too.

The last thing I hear before she closes the door behind me is her strangled sob. Fuck. It breaks my heart all over again and I feel the tears start rolling down my face.





20


A Beautiful Surprise


Rampage

I don’t get the small blue chairs at the end of the hall this time. No. This time I get a big open room. A few hospital couches, chairs, and coffee tables with magazines and a couple of flat screen TV’s. Clipboard motions for me to sit down with her hand. I don’t bitch because she usually gets down to business and then leaves me the fuck alone. Aside from her always calling Lala the patient, she ain’t so bad.