Chapter 2
"Santana!" Brittany shouts behind me. Blood from my nose drips onto the thin coating of snow in the parking lot. He maneuvers himself over top of me, plunging his hands into my pockets. He pulls out my cell phone…my money…Brittany's necklace. I'm too tired to fight. He stands up and stomps on
my back, forcing me flat onto the ground. I hear him shuffle back towards Britt.
"Britt, run," I say as loudly as I can. I realize it was hardly a whisper because neither of them look down at me. He grabs Brittany by the collar of her jacket and pulls her so their faces are almost touching. She's trembling…she's crying…I can't move.
"Brittany…run…" I try again, but to no avail. He closes the slight gap between them, latching his lips onto hers. I can hear her whimper as he fights for access into her mouth. I hear voices in the distance. He releases Brittany quickly, and she falls to the ground with a thud. He picks up our bags and runs quickly into the night. Brittany props herself up and crawls over to me.
"San…San, can you hear me? Are you okay? Gosh you're bleeding bad…" her voice cracks as she looks over my injuries.
"I'm sorry…" I whisper. She flips me over on my back and pulls what's left of the tattered scarf off her neck. She gently lays my head in her lap and starts dabbing the blood off my face with the baby blue fabric.
"I'm sorry," I repeat.
"Be quiet," she orders me, as she continues gently cleaning me off. The voices I heard get closer. They must see us, must see the blood stains in the snow, because they hurry toward us.
"Are you girls okay?" the older woman asks.
"We just got mugged. She's hurt pretty bad," Brittany tells her.
"Poor things…I'll call the police," the lady replies. Britt finishes wiping the blood away and uses both arms to cradle my head.
"It'll be okay now, San. Help is coming," she whispers, rocking me back and forth. I can hear in her voice she's still crying.
"I'm sorry…sorry I couldn't stop him," I choke out.
"It's not your fault. You protected me…you're the one laying here bleeding. I'm okay," she replies. I can tell she isn't.
Britt holds me there for a while in silence until I see the blue and red lights flashing toward us. It isn't like the movies you see where the cops pull out and start screaming things. We are all silent. Brittany lays my head down gently and stands. One of the officers starts asking her questions. The other one kneels next to me.
"Tell me what hurts, kid," he says gently.
"My nose…and…my back…" I respond weakly.
"Can you stand?" he asks. It takes all my strength, but I sit up. He takes both of my hands and pulls me up onto my feet.
"Come sit in the car. We're going to get you to the hospital, okay?" he supports me, seeing I'm disoriented. I sit in the back of the squad car, and he wraps a blanket around me. They wrap a similar one around Brittany and bring her over to the car. She gets in next to me and snuggles close.
"You have to tell the cops what happened," she whispers to me. My brain is totally foggy. The cold has spread to my fingers and toes. I just want to be warm. I just want the stabbing pain in my back to go away. I want to know when we wake up tomorrow; we'll be able to move on.
The police drive us to the hospital, and pour Brittany some hot chocolate. The cops stay with her in the waiting room to ask her more questions. A nurse brings over a wheel chair and helps me lower into it. She takes my blood pressure, my temperature and checks my pulse. She asks me my name. I lift my head but I can't find the strength to respond.
"Her name is Santana," I hear Britt say.
"Okay, Santana. Let's go get you fixed up, okay?" she says. I lift my head up just enough to look at Brittany. She blows me a kiss reassuringly, but it doesn't give me that tingly feeling in my toes like it usually does. Her beautiful smile is hid behind tear stained cheeks and pained eyes. I hate that she had to go through this.
The nurse wheels me into what looks like a storage space, there's about thirty pairs of crutches hanging on the walls offset by a small gurney and stool. She pulls the curtain closed and helps me up onto the gurney.
"I need you to get undressed, honey," she says. My eyes are already swelling shut from my broken nose. I haven't seen it, but I'm sure I look hideous. She starts unbuttoning my coat and slides it back off my arms slowly.
"I have to ask some questions that may be hard to answer, okay? Just take your time," she advises as I pull my polo shirt over my head.
"Did he rape you?" she continues.
"No…can I leave my bra on?" I reply.
"Yes you can. Santana, if he did anything sexual we really need to know. I know it is hard to talk about, but it's important," she pushes.
"I swear he didn't. He slammed my face into the car and kicked me in the back. Then he took all our stuff and ran off," I said.
"Okay," she walks to the other side of the bed, looking at my back.
"On a scale of one to ten, how's the back pain?" she asks, touching the swollen, painful skin there. I wince.
"Um, like a 5," I admit. It hurts a little worse, but I don't want to stay in this hospital overnight. I want to make sure Brittany will be able to sleep through the night, even if I don't think I will.
"Okay…the doctor will be in shortly. Put this gown on in the meantime, try to relax," she tells me. Before she leaves the room she hooks me up to an IV. Whatever she puts in it feels amazing, and knocks me out instantly.