The next chapter is a little rough, but I promise it will get better.
Neela lay on the ground where she'd been cast, her head again a cement-block wall. She stared at the knife, her breathing heavy with anxiety. What was he planning on doing with that knife? She took a deep breath, but it hitched in her throat. She tried again. "What's your name?"
"I told you not to talk," he answered absently, his eyes narrowed with intense concentration. He brought the knife to her shirt, cutting it straight down the middle.
"Wha- what are you doing?" she asked urgently. She knew what he was doing but she couldn't let it happen. "Please stop," she asked in a child-like voice, tears springing to her eyes. The knife tore into the flesh of her stomach, wrenching a cry from her lungs. "I told you!" he yelled.
Outside security was pacing around, not quite equipped to deal with such a situation. The police had been called but had yet to arrive. People had been ushered quickly out of the ER and the upper floors had been locked down. "Can't we do something?!" Abby yelled, hearing the scream come from the janitor's closet. "Ma'am, we're doing everything we can," came the response. Luca had come out of the break room during the commotion and Abby had apprised him of the situation. He wanted to pound on the closet door, but he knew it would do no good, and could even aggravate the man inside.
His hands pushed at the cloth, separating it. He was touching her. She couldn't let him touch her. Her eyes darted from object to object, not resting on anything for more than a millisecond. Her thoughts became less and less rational as adrenaline was released at high levels. "Stop!" she yelled, panic evident in her voice. The man prepared to slash her stomach again, but as he raised up and readied himself to bring it down and across, she drew her legs up to her chest and then thrust them forward, kicking him squarely in the groin. He clutched himself and fell to the side, momentarily incapacitated.
Neela scrambled to her feet, shoving the janitor's cart that he'd thrown upside-down in front of the door. She threw open the door, clutching at her shirt with her other hand to hold the pieces together. Despite the guns that were immediately trained at her, she threw herself into the arms of the nearest officer.
The man in the closet rose to his feet, despite demands to stay put and relinquish his weapon. In a fury, he snapped it up and aimed at Neela, who was still in the arms of the security guard. As Luca ran to stand in front of the gun, several of the officers opened fire. The assailant fell to the floor immediately, gun falling from his hand with a heavy clatter. Luca reached Neela and grabbed her from the guard, trying to assess her injuries. It was then that he noticed the blood covering the front of the guard's uniform. Thinking the man had been shot, he searched for an entrance wound, but found none. He took Neela by the shoulders and gently held her at arms length, eliciting from her a small sob of protest which was quickly stifled. He needed to know where all that blood had come from.
He lifted her shirt, exposing her stomach, which was covered in a sticky mass of red. She just stood shaking like a leaf in the wind, both hands now holding her shirt closed, eyes fixed on the ground.
Luca took one look at her face and realized she was in shock. Picking her up, he brought her to the nearest exam room (which was actually an area closed off with a blue curtain), and placed her on the bed. Every ER doctor who had been waiting during those first tumultuous moments soon followed, each grabbing instruments and gauze and other things as Luca examined the wound. Neela closed her eyes, exhaustion sending her into a drowsy sleep. Pratt stepped through the clutter of people, taking her by the shoulders and shaking her gently. "Hey," he said softly. "You gotta stay awake, okay?" He began examining her head, fingers sifting through her hair, searching for lumps and bruises and finding several. "We gotta keep her awake," he said to Luca, who seemed to have taken charge. Kovac had decided that the stomach wound was superficial and was sewing it together, albeit quite nervously. Abby calmly wiped the blood away from her stomach. "Pratt, take off your coat," she said, indicating the lab coat he was wearing. Noting the incredulous look he gave her, she demanded, "Just do it." He took it off and tossed it to her. She promptly draped it over Neela's chest and shoulders, keeping her warm and covered. Aside from a concussion and a few stitches, she would be physically okay.
To be continued…