"I'm goin' home,
gonna load my shotgun.
Wait by the door, and light a cigarette.
He wants a fight,
well now he's got one.
And he ain't seen me crazy, yet.

Slapped my face,
and he shook me like a rag doll.
Don't that sound like a real man?
I'm gonna show him what a real girls' made of.

Gunpowder and lead."

- Gunpowder & Lead, by: Miranda Lambert

Hourglass

Chapter: 5

-Bella POV-

When we arrive at the hospital, everything happens in a blur. They carefully lower the stretcher from inside the ambulance, and they wheel her into the automatic sliding E.R. doors. The medic who was taking care of Rose speaks to a blond male doctor that intercepts us at the entrance, filling him in on Rose's condition and all of the procedures he has taken so far to stabilize her.

When the doctor asks what happened, the EMT tells him she's been beaten and they share a few words too quietly for me to hear.

I attempt to walk with her beside the stretcher but am held back when they reach the examination room.

"Let go of me, I have to stay with her," I growl without looking behind me to see who is holding me back.

If it's that prick driver, I'll be forced to break his nose. Good thing we're in a hospital.

"Miss, you can't go in there. At the very least, she's going to need a blood transfusion, and it needs to be a sterile environment. You're a mess." He says the last part softly, trying not to hurt my feelings. I recognize his voice, it's the nice medic, and I relax minutely.

The blond doctor regards me with sad blue eyes and quickly enters the room where they're working on Rose.

"I need to protect her," I cry softly.

"You are protecting her by staying out here," he says and slowly releases my arms.

I turn to face him and try to calm myself.

"She'll never be safe. As long as he's out there…" I mumble, dazed and mentally exhausted from my inner turmoil.

"You know who did this to her?" he asks, with an edge to his tone.

"Her…boyfriend, Royce King. He's hurt her before, just—not like this," I speak dejectedly.

"Hold on a second," he says and turns around as he grabs his cell phone from his pocket and walks out in the direction of the parking lot.

I have to run to catch up to him, because he's walking with quick determined steps. He powers his phone on and presses a number on his speed dial, quickly placing his call.

I know it's rude to listen in on his call, but I need to know what he's doing.

He looks up at me as he waits for his call to go through. He's obviously not surprised to see me standing there.

"Edward, hey, it's Emmett. Listen, I know you were probably asleep or working on a case, but how long until you can get to Forks General?

"No, no, nothing like that. I've got this girl here who came in with a woman that has been beaten pretty bad by her boyfriend, and I think maybe it would be a good idea if you pulled his file and helped the cops find him. His name is…" He turns to me, silently asking me for his name.

"Royce, Royce Jameson King," I bite out, not wanting that filth's name in my mouth.

"Royce J. King," he replies into the phone, nodding at me and giving me a thumbs up.

"Okay. Thanks, man. See you in a bit." He ends his call and takes a step closer to me.

"Thank you, Miss. Now, we should probably get you cleaned up and…" he trails off as he looks down at my feet.

"What?" I ask when he doesn't say anything more.

"Your feet, they're in pretty rough shape. Have you been shoeless all night?" he asks.

"Uh…" I look down and notice that I am, in fact, barefoot. I don't remember putting shoes on before I left my house earlier—actually, I'm pretty sure I didn't.

"Yeah, I guess I have," I say offhandedly, shrugging.

He winces. "Ouch, that's gonna hurt like a bitch tomorrow. I can already see that your toes are all cut up; the bottoms probably aren't any better." He kneels down to get a better look, and I step away quickly.

"Let me sit down and look at them. I'm sure they're fine," I say to him.

I sit down on a nearby bench and cross my right leg over my left knee, pulling my foot up so I can inspect it.

There's a long gash that runs from my arch to my heel and what looks like road rash in spots all over my foot and the bottom of my toes.

I sigh heavily.

"Yep, that's definitely gonna hurt tomorrow," he says from beside me.

"It's nothing compared to what Rosalie is going through," I can't help but say. Fresh, warm tears begin prickling my eyes.

"Why don't we head inside? I'll grab her paperwork, and you can fill it out while I clean and bandage your feet. I'll also see if I can find something for you to change into." He waves a hand in my direction.

I look down and notice my clothes are ruined. Blood is smeared across my tattered nightshirt and cutoff sweat pants, and they're both sticking to me like a second skin due to the rain.

"Tell me she's going to be okay," I plead desperately, staring off into the parking lot unseeingly.

"I honestly can't guarantee that, Miss, but I really hope so," he responds.

"I should be out there right now looking for him. He deserves everything is coming to him." I clench my fists and bring them up to cover my eyes as tears leak out and down my face.

"I fucking hate him for what he's done to her," I choke out, losing my cool and sobbing helplessly.

Merry Christmas & Happy Holidays, everyone!

xxoo,

Missy