Chapter Three: The Worst Day

November 15, 1998.

McGinty's didn't open until four o'clock on Sundays. Doc was a good Catholic man and he made his time and business center around Sunday Mass. There was no doubt that Connor and Murphy would be amongst Doc and the rest of the group. Amy rejected Doc's invitation to church – again – but she had actually been tempted to take the offer. According to Connor, Murphy had caught a cold so that had been the reason why he had been missing from the bar all weekend. Amy didn't bother to text or worry anymore. She had embarrassed herself and Amy realized she had more important things to worry about.

Her Sunday agenda was to research apartments around Northwestern University, orientation dates, and all the important things that would lead Amy into another anxiety attack.

She was upstairs in her bedroom. Sitting in her desk and face focused on her laptop screen, Amy tapped a pencil nervously on the edge of her desk. She jotted things down in a notebook while printing several pages of information she had about Northwestern itself and apartments.

It was during her tapping that Amy heard the door to the bar open.

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"We're closed 'till four, sorry!" Amy called as she skipped down the stairs. Her gray hoodie hung loosely on her shoulders revealing a white V-neck t-shirt. Her torn jeans were her favorite to wear on her lazy day. Amy had hoped to continue a relaxing-research-day but didn't mind company if the visitor really wanted to stay.

But there was no familiar visitor in the bar.

Amy had barely made it halfway across the bar when she realized two unfamiliar men standing before her. One was extremely tall and lanky – he had white hair and wore a blue suit. The other, a shorter, bulkier man, smiled behind a line of white teeth with a single gold tooth. Their Russian accents were thick as they talked. They spoke in their own language to one another. They eyed Amy carefully and took a step forward.

"We are looking for owner," the bulky one said. "We have appointment." He cracked his knuckles in each fist. "You are niece?"

"Yes," Amy replied gently. "But the owner is at church. All day. Come back later."

The tall man grinned. "We wait."

"Sorry, business closed today," Amy tried again, gentler this time. "You'll have to leave."

"Need company?" Bulky Man asked.

"Please. I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Do svidaniya (Goodbye)." Amy had remembered a few phrases Connor had taught her.

"Smart girl," Tall Man laughed. His laughing made Amy uncomfortable. She took a step back.

Amy was in fact a smart girl and she remembered what Doc had taught her. She had remembered what Connor, Murphy, Rocco, and what all the other guys had taught her. She needed to stay calm and play nice.

But it was too obvious that they weren't willing to play nice.

The two Russians took a few steps toward her.

Amy ran.

She sped up the stairs and fearfully heard their heavy steps behind her. Amy didn't get the chance to lock the apartment door before Bulky Man kicked it open.

Amy tried to scream but the fist of the Bulky Man was quick to silence her.

She tasted blood. Amy was too frightened to scream. She stumbled back trying to keep as much space between the men and herself.

The next move she made was her attempt to run pass the men and down the stairs.

Tall Man grabbed her. He was laughing. That evil laugh pierced her eyes in ways she was too horrified to think about. What are they going to do… she thought.

Her body was thrown down the stairs. Her attempt to push away Tall Man failed.

The fall wasn't too bad but Amy had recollected herself well enough to try and get up, scream, and reach the exit door.

But she was being tossed around like a rag doll. Amy wasn't sure what was happening herself. She had been thrown over the bar counter. Her arms were cut by broken liquor bottles. Her head ached and Amy tried throwing a bucket of ice at them.

The whole time they laughed…

They did, however, leave her alive.

Amy was trying to pull herself off the floor by reaching for the bar counter.

The Russians were gone.

Amy's mind wandered back to the abuse she had just suffered. Had she screamed loud enough? Did anyone hear her? Did I even bother to scream…

Her throat was sore. Her entire body was in pain. Nothing seemed broken but her arms, hoodie and shirt were stained with blood. Her mouth and bottom lip hurt. Blood was dripping from her forehead.

She threw up on the floor.

All the strength Amy could muster allowed her to crawl up the stairs to the apartment.

While her weak arms and knees tried to get her to the apartment, Amy realized she wasn't quite sure what had happened. She had had her ass kicked, she knew this, but Amy wasn't even completely sure how badly hurt she was. She was able to move, that was good, but Amy couldn't remember how many times they had punched her. Kicked her. Thrown her onto the floor.

She just wanted to forget it all.

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Connor and Murphy tagged along with Doc and others on their way to the bar. Connor was talking to Doc about Amy's plans to move to Chicago in the summer. Murphy followed quietly behind, smoking a cigarette, and hoped that maybe the situation had calmed down. Or at least ceased to exist. But Murphy wanted to kick himself for thinking such a thing. He knew it was wrong. All wrong. But he cared for Amy nonetheless. He desired to talk with her and to at least rekindle the friendship that was so important to Murphy.

He began to walk ahead of the group and Murphy teased Connor saying he couldn't catch up. The brothers kicked and badgered one another as they grew closer to McGinty's. Connor was glad to see Murphy in a better mood. His cold had made Murphy rather irritating the last few day. Connor wasn't sure if Murphy had really been sick. He knew his brother well enough when he was trying to keep something hidden. They told each other everything. But whatever it was that was eating Murphy – Murphy was keeping it to himself.

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Connor entered the bar first. Murphy, Doc and group of three – thirsty for a drink – followed behind.

All stood frozen in the entryway.

Broken glass was scattered across the floor. Ice was still in the process of melting beneath their feet. And blood. They saw a small pool on the area of the floor beneath the bar counter.

"Call the fuckin' police!" Connor yelled.

"AMY!" Doc and Murphy shouted at the same time.

Connor, Murphy, and Doc ran up the stairs. Their boots hit each step heavily and they didn't notice the blood trail on the wooden steps.

The living room was not as chaotic as the bar, but the blood was enough.

Connor followed the trail toward the bathroom. He found Amy leaning against the bathtub. Her hand was clutching onto a bar rag and some ice.

She looked so fragile and broken before them. Doc could barely get into the bathroom because Connor and Murphy were checking on the young woman.

"Amy!" Murphy called to her. One of her eyes was quite red and would definitely be shut closed in the morning. Blood was found everywhere on her body – according to Connor's inspection, he announced, "Nothin's broken."

"Amy," Murphy called her name again. His voice was slowly bringing her back to consciousness. "Amy, love, you alright? Can you speak ta me? Who did this?"

She was too weak to lift her own head.

Someone from below yelled: "Police is comin'! Ambulance too!"

"Doc, get towels, and a robe," Connor directed to the worried old man. Doc hadn't said a word but his face was frozen on the pale complexion of his nieces.

"Amy, speak ta me," Murphy instructed gently. He now had Amy propped up in his lap. Her head rested on his forearm.

Her eyes tried to open. She took in a breath and immediately coughed blood.

"Russians…" Amy whispered. "Mob guys. They came… looking for Doc." She whimpered in pain. "Tried to be nice…"

"Help's comin Amy, now love, can you move your arms and legs?" Connor asked desperately.

"I…" Amy pressed her lips together. They stung. "I…hurt."

She was almost too weak to cry. It hurt her whole body to let the tears just come.

"Sshhh love," Murphy whispered. "We're here. We're wit' ya. We aren't leavin'. Help's comin'. Help's comin'."

"Murphy…" Amy asked. "Doc… is he okay?"

"He's alright love, he's getting you a robe and some towels. Are ye cold, love?"

"Just keep holding me," Amy begged through ferocious tears. "Murphy, Connor… please don't leave."

Amy couldn't keep her eyes open. She drifted into a painless sleep and she could still hear Murphy's voice in the distance. The black abyss she now entered was calm and quiet. She was caught in the middle of nothing.

The pain wasn't as bad anymore…

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Author's Note: Will update ASAP. Review, please. Thanks again!