Clinch: Chapter Two
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Hands down, this was the worst night of her life.
The ambulance ride was a sickening blur of oxygen masks, and Brandon lying motionlessly on a stretcher while the EMTs' shouts of "hand is completely crushed", and "surgery, no doubt", and "risk of infection" pierced through her like a knife.
She felt disconnected to her body as she sat in the cheap vinyl of the waiting room chairs, absent-mindedly watching doctors zip back and forth down the hall, and mulling over the frightening details the doctor had explained to her earlier.
The door to the waiting room—the Intensive Care waiting room—creaked open, and Lena rushed into the seat next to Stef.
God bless her for not bringing the kids.
"Stef, what happened?" Ah, straight to the point. "Tell me what happened."
Stef's watery gaze swept the blank hospital atmosphere. "They said assault was the only logical explanation. Apparently one of the bruises was in the shape of a knuckle."
"Did they tell you anything else?"
"They spun a horribly graphic and overly-descriptive tale on how hurt our son is."
"Well, fill me in."
Stef looked at her morosely, meeting her eyes. "Reconstructive hand surgery,"
Lena did a double-take. "What?"
"Brandon is currently undergoing reconstructive hand surgery. They actually wrote down all of the fractures in his hand on a sticky note and gave it to me."
"Read it."
"You asked for it. It says, and I quote; 'fractured trapezoid, trapezium, capitate, hamate, metacarpals on the index, middle, and pointer fingers, and the distal phalange, proximal phalange, and metacarpal on the thumb,'"
"English, please."
"Basically everything except his pinkie,"
Lena took a long, deep breath. "Is it more than just his hand?"
"Plenty more, I assure you. And would you like to know why his hand needs to be 'reconstructed'?"
"Humor me."
"Slammed into his car door," Stef said, monotone. "When I found him, his hand was trapped in the closed driver's side door."
Lena was positively sick now.
"You're kidding me, right?" She asked. "Someone actually had the nerve to—"
"Don't say 'nerve'. If they find any nerve damage, 'paralysis may occur'."
"Sorry."
Stef closed her eyes, before continuing. "Dislocated jawbone, two cracked ribs, concussion, internal bleeding, bruising, cuts."
A brief, deafening silence fell between the two. Lena blinked back tears, and squeezed Stef's hand tightly.
"I'm just trying to think of who would've done this." Lena said quietly.
"We're pressing charges against them, regardless of who they are."
"Obviously, but think, Stef, there aren't gangs around here. Whoever did this must somehow know him,"
"I just don't want to get into that right now."
"You're probably right." Lena sighed. "I just want to know where Mike was during all of this."
"Considering it happened right outside his apartment, I'm pretty pissed at that too."
Another silence.
"He's going to be alright." Lena promised, squeezing Stef's hand again. "He's going to be just fine. You know why? Because he's a trooper, just like you,"
Stef gave a forlorn and watery twitch of a smile, but didn't look up. "Lena," She whispered, resting her forehead on her fists. "He was there for hours. Bleeding on the side of the road for hours with his hand crushed in a goddamn door because I was too busy thinking up punishments for him."
"This isn't your fault, Stef."
"Well, whoever's fault it is are probably pretty damn proud of themselves."
"Jesus, he did not get attacked by a bear."
All four kids lounged in the kitchen, coming up with almost ludicrous predictions as to what happened to Brandon.
"I'm telling you, all evidence points to it." Jesus proclaimed, pulling the orange juice out of the fridge.
"What evidence?"
"The evidence,"
Mariana slapped him upside the head.
As the banter between the two continued, Callie held Jude close, her eyes vacant as she pondered over the facts—the facts that only she knew.
As soon as Lena had run out of the house saying; "He's hurt, we don't know what happened", the name Vico immediately came to mind.
I mean, it was crazy to just assume, but it made sense. Brandon had told her things about Vico that he hadn't told anyone else.
Callie bit her nail. Vico was dangerous. It wouldn't be completely out of character for him to do something like this.
Brandon had pissed him off by buying all of the fake IDs back from their 'clients'; and Vico had gotten revenge. Rumor had it; Vico was kicked off the wrestling team for the IDs. Perhaps Vico had gotten revenge again—this time by actually hurting him.
Well, if this was the case, then Vico should be satisfied.
Biting her lip, she set her eyebrows in determination.
Tomorrow, she was confronting Vico.
We'll see some things from Brandon's eyes next chapter!
Some Stef/Mike drama, some Callie/Vico drama, and definitely some Brandon whumpage.
Stay tuned. Reviews are loved.