The Accident

For the first time since Rebecca had moved in, there was no smell in the air. Nothing cooking. She wasn't there to meet me at the door. The house was dark except for the blue glow of the fish tank. I called out, receiving silence in response. She hadn't told me she would be out, not that we were married, but something didn't feel right. I flipped on the light and moved to the bedroom, thinking I had caught her napping.

My head snapped to the right before I felt it. The whole left side of my face exploded in pain and I lost my vision. My knees wobbled as I nearly dropped to the floor. A large form moved in front of me from the hall, and my stomach caved in response to a fist. I went down on all fours before my hands could come up. I tasted blood as I gasped for breath. A foot drove into my stomach, turning me over and driving bile into my mouth. Three men, none of whom I recognized, stood before me. One was smiling, one spit on me and the other had a knife at Rebecca's throat.

"I got money," I spit out as much blood as words, "don't hurt her." The smiling one stepped on my wrist, putting all his weight on it. Only the carpeting was saving the bones.

"Listen, shit," the man who had spit on me said, "Mr. Gordinni doesn't appreciate you spending time with his woman." The statement was followed by a kick to my side. I felt my ribs give and all I could do was grunt. "Maybe we should spend time with yours," the man continued. I heard Rebecca squeal in the distance. Anger filled me.

I gave up on my wrist and rolled into the leg atop it. I surprised myself by freeing my hand without breaking it. I rose slightly and twisted into the man's knee bringing him down. I kneed him in the stomach and drooled blood on his clothes. I began to rise; it was my house, and they were threatening all that I loved.

A knee caught my chin and drove my head back. That was followed by a fist that took my balance from me. I crumpled back to the floor, my head swimming in waves of tar. I tried desperately to rise again; my left eye was swollen shut and blood was pouring from my mouth. Two sets of arms pulled me to my feet. I tried to struggle, but my muscles weren't responding. I could hear Rebecca crying out, perhaps a mile away. I suddenly picked up speed, my right eye seeing nothing but blue fish tank. My head hit sideways and water sloshed out of the top. I collapsed, feeling warm wetness run into my ear.

"Fuck," one of the men said, "the damn thing didn't break." I tried to raise my head. My neck wasn't responding to the command.

"No!" Rebecca screamed. I heard glass shatter and a flood of saltwater covered me. I looked up and saw the smiler with one of the kitchen stools in his hands. He was laughing.

"Go near Ms.Simpson again, and you and yours are dead," the smiler said and threw the stool over the counter and into the kitchen where I heard something break amongst the clatter. The name was familiar, but my foggy brain couldn't identify it. I tried to say "Who the fuck is Ms. Simpson?" but only blood bubbled from my mouth. I began to choke on it, so I forced myself to roll onto my side to drain my throat. I saw a bleary image of Rebecca held by the third man. I reached out for her. With no strength left, my arm collapsed on top of a flopping Mufasa. I felt a deep stab in my arm. 'Damn,' I thought clumsily, 'killed by my own fish.' Raging fire burned into my arm. A deep blackness swallowed me.

++++++++++

I heard my name in a fog. I tried to open my eyes, but they wouldn't respond nor would my hands when I tried to wipe my eyes. I tried to listen, to fully wake my mind.

"She blames herself" - "They say he will recover" - "She moves back..."

Only fragments. I half-recognized the voices. Like a radio that just won't fully grasp a frequency, my mind drifted.

"It's for the best." - "I'll watch him."

I wasn't sure how time flowed as I retreated back to darkness, unable to fight any longer.

<++++++++++

"Good morning, Mr. Richardson." The voice was cheerful. I heard curtain rings being slid along their rail, and my eyelids brightened dramatically. I blinked slowly, my eyes feeling the light as pain. "The doctor will be in shortly. She hopes you will be awake." The voice moved closer. I made out a olive green shape, linear, without the curves I expected attached to such a pleasant voice.

I coughed as I tried to speak. My throat cleared what felt like a week of backup. My mouth was dry, but my eyes began working better. I looked up into a practiced smile, her blonde hair pulled tightly back away from her face. The eyes were intelligent, and saw none of the confusion I felt.

"Good morning," I gargled out. I sounded old and coughed again.

"I'm Julie, morning shift," she said clearly, almost like she expected me to be a little slow. "Do you know where you are?" My eyes glanced around. Hospital room. A couple of blinking consoles, basic white sheets and beige walls. A double window, curtains open, letting in way too much sunlight. My head began to pound.

"Hospital," I answered, a little more coherently. I waved my hand toward the curtains, "Can we close those damn curtains?" The light seemed to be burrowing directly into my skull.

"If you promise to stay awake," Julie said and moved to close the curtains without waiting for my agreement.

"How long?"

"Four days," Julie smiled, "rather, this will be your fourth."

"Rebecca?" I asked as I looked around. The room was empty. A knife at her throat was the last thing I remembered. I tried to sit up, my chest protested with pain and my head swirled. "Is Rebecca alright?"

"I don't know who that is," Julie answered, "you were admitted alone." She pushed me gently back into the pillow. "You're not going anywhere, but we do have a phone." Guilt racked my body, thoughts of Rebecca being handled by those men I couldn't stop. Visions of what may have happened tore through me. I hated those thoughts.

"Police, I need the police," I pleaded. I tried to sit up again, but Julie had all the leverage, and a strong pain in my chest was fighting against my strength.

"The police will back again this morning," Julie said, applying more pressure to my shoulders. Four days. My God, she could be dead. I was worthless. I just let them have her. I reached up with both hands, my chest was tortured with a dagger-like pain on the right side. I ignored it and pushed Julie's arms off my shoulders. I sat up with an audible grunt.

"Please, Mr. Richardson." Julie lost all her confidence and took a step back. "You have to remain still." My feet got caught in the sheets as I tried to swing them off the bed. More pain as I bent over to pull the sheet out of the way. Everything hurt as I maneuvered my legs off the side. Julie had her arms outstretched, trying to stop me. I stood, and the world began to flip around in sweeping circles. Nausea filled my belly, and I lost balance. Julie grabbed me, pushing me back to sit on the bed.

"Slower, you have to go slower," Julie pleaded. I had no choice but to listen. My mind and body refused to follow my instructions.

"I need the police now," I demanded as Julie helped me lie down. The pillow cradled my head softly, and the spinning room began to slow. I was too weak. Then and now. Fucking worthless. Tears flooded my eyes, daggers piercing my chest as I sobbed. They should have just killed me.

"I'll call them," Julie sighed as I finally settled into the bed.

"I couldn't stop them," I blubbered.

"Relax, let the drugs wear off." She grabbed a cloth from next to the bed and began wiping my face. "Everything will be clearer soon." I couldn't stand up, much less walk.

"I need my phone," I said, looking at the white nightstand expecting to see it charging. Julie moved to the drawer and pulled it open. She retrieved my phone and handed to me. It was, of course, quite dead. "I need a charger," I said, lucidity appearing from the fog. A woman entered wearing the same olive green smocks the nurse was wearing, covered by a white lab coat.

"You're awake," the woman observed, "I'm glad to see that."

"Awake and anxious, Doctor, he tried to get out of bed."

"And how did that work out for you?" the doctor asked. I didn't like the humor in her tone. She wore brass rimmed glasses and looked over the top of them, waiting for my response.

"I need a damn charger," I replied, waving the phone. I never memorized any numbers, much less Rebecca's. I needed my contact list.

"Julie, see if you can find a charger that fits his phone." She looked back to me as Julie took my phone out the door. "There, first problem solved," the doctor continued.

"Thank you," I shouted toward the door, suddenly remembering my manners. I doubt Julie could have heard it.

"You're going to be disorientated for day or so," the doctor said, while glancing at her tablet. "I've taken you off painkillers. If the pain gets to be too much, let me know and we'll talk about reinstating them." The pain kept me awake. I needed to stay awake. The doctor smiled, looking up from her tablet, "Sorry, I'm Doctor Betty White," she added.

"Hi, Damon Richardson," I responded.

"You're my first lionfish poisoning," Dr. White said, "I had to consult a colleague in Florida to verify the treatment." Consultations meant money. This was going to cost. I shook the monetary thoughts from my head.

"Rebecca Morrison was with me when I was attacked. What happened to her?"

"There was a woman here when you first came in," Dr. White said as she moved toward the head of the bed, "I didn't get her name, though the front desk should have it. She spent most of her time crying, though she was physically fine. If she isn't family, they wouldn't have let her stay." It must have been Rebecca. No one else would be crying for me. I was partially relieved. Dr. White took a small flashlight out of her pocket and told me to stare at a spot on the ceiling. She flicked the light to and from my eyes.

"You've suffered a concussion as well as the effects of the pterois venom," the doctor continued. "I feared you might have cerebral edema, but we ruled that out; just a concussion. I don't believe you will have any lasting effects. You may want to stay out of fights for a few months." She smiled, thinking her obvious statement was funny. "You have a broken rib and bruising along your abdomen. That's going to make it painful to move about for a while."

She lifted my arm and showed me a large red splotch where Mufasa poked me. "I have been assured the discoloration is temporary." She examined it closer, like I was a lab rat. She let my arm drop. "We would like to keep you here until we are assured you gain adequate mobility or you have a caretaker at home."

"So, nothing permanent?" I stretched my back and felt the sharp pain in my chest again.

"No, though it would be wise to take it slow and seek medical advice quickly if you sense a problem. There's always a chance of an internal injury we may have missed."

Julie returned with a charger. "This is one of the nurse's," Julie said, while she plugged it in the wall. "He gets off in three hours, so you'll have to give it up then." I felt some of my helplessness leaving. I had my phone again.

"Thank you," I said honestly. Julie smiled and attached my phone to the cord. The telltale beep of the power connection being made was not there. The phone would need a few minutes to start charging.

"I'll get some food sent up," Julie said, smiling at my thanks. "I'm sure you're hungry." My brain sorted through the pain in my stomach and separated the bruising from the hunger pains. I realized I was famished.

"Sorry about earlier," I offered. My rudeness bothered me now. I wasn't sure how Julie put up with it.

"Forget it," Julie said, obviously pleased I apologized, "drugs have that effect. A detective Williams will be here in about thirty minutes." I nodded, feeling it in my chest. Even simple movements reminded me I was hurt. Julie held up a call button attached to a cord and set it on the nightstand next to the phone. "Push this if you need to use the bathroom. One of us will make sure you get there in one piece."

"Your dizziness will begin to fade today," Dr. White added, "tomorrow it should be manageable, though it's not unusual for it to stick around for a few days. I'll check on you in the morning; just try to relax as best you can."

"Thanks, Doc," I said. She left me with Julie who handed me the TV remote. I couldn't remember the last time I watched daytime TV. Julie left, promising to send breakfast. I put the TV control off to the side and grabbed my phone. It was responding slowly to my commands to turn it on. I waited impatiently for it to boot. When it finally came up, I found Rebecca in my recent call list and initiated the call.

I had expected to hear her voice, but was put in voicemail instead. I rambled out a fairly coherent message mentioning my worry and my love. I begged her to call back. I tried three more times before the detective arrived, my worry growing with each failed attempt.

"What do you remember?" Detective Williams asked after our brief introductions.

"Did you speak with Rebecca Morrison?" I asked anxiously.

"Yes, the night of the assault," Williams replied, "she's the one who reported it."

"She was okay?" I continued my line of questioning.

"Distraught, of course, but unharmed." Relief washed through me at the detective's words. I hadn't realized how much tension I was holding in my shoulders. "She was convinced it was all her fault, though she couldn't tell me why. I got the feeling she thinks trouble follows her around." I felt the tension return. I wasn't there for her. She was blaming herself with no one to hold her.

"Do you know where she is?" I rambled, "I'm trying to call her."

"I'm sorry, but no," Williams said sadly. I assumed he sensed my anxiousness. "I have a phone number and an address for her sister." He went a little pale, realizing he may have said too much. My mind reeled. She wouldn't be home when I got there. Maybe she just didn't want to stay there alone. I wished she would call me. She had to be scared.

"Can you tell me what happened?" Williams continued, trying to get back to his job. I dumped everything thing I knew, which wasn't much. My descriptions of the attackers eliminated about eighty-percent of the earth's population, leaving only about a billion people to sift through. The mention of the name 'Gordinni' sparked some recognition in his eyes, though he let me continue uninterrupted as he took notes.

I almost mentioned the name 'Simpson' when the name clicked. It was on the check I cashed from Tammi. It was her last name. I didn't give a shit about her, but I definitely didn't want to burn any bridges until I had Rebecca in my arms again. Rebecca knew. No wonder she thought it was her fault. Maybe it was. I didn't care. Life without her would have no color. I stashed the name away and kept it from the detective.

"That's similar to Rebecca's account," the detective said, "she must not have heard Gordinni." He said it with incredulity. I ignored the tone. "Do you know Toni Gordinni?" he asked.

"I don't know any Gordinnis," I answered honestly.

"If I showed you some pictures, do you think you would recognize your assailants?" Williams asked.

"I might," I replied. "Who's Toni Gordinni?" He put his notebook away and sighed in my general direction.

"Honestly," Williams said quietly, "someone you don't want to recognize. You certainly don't want to date his girl," he chuckled a bit, "or his wife." I didn't see anything funny.

"I don't even know his girl," I returned with irritation, "they were in my house. I don't give a damn who he is." The detective's smile disappeared. He reached in his pocket and withdrew a card and handed to me.

"Here's my number," Williams said, "call me when you are out of here and we'll go over the pictures." He didn't seem like he really wanted to continue the investigation. "If we can prosecute them, they are looking at a year for home invasion and assault and battery." A year didn't seem long enough. He emphasized the 'if.' His whole tone was trying to discourage me.

"You aren't filling me with confidence," I said, my irritation now fully undisguised.

"They have good lawyers," Williams said.

"Fuck, if I'm letting this go!" I almost yelled.

"Yeah, okay," Williams said sadly, "I guess you won't. You have my card. Call me when you're ready." He turned to leave then suddenly turned back. "Do yourself a favor, look up Gordinni before you come by." He left quickly after that.

I called Carl.

++++++++++

"You're sure about this?" Carl asked as he pushed the wheelchair down the hall that evening. He thought I should spend another night. He had been shocked about the whole situation. At first, he wanted to gather some friends and go find the assholes. After I mentioned Gordinni, he mellowed quickly. I didn't need the Internet, Carl was familiar with the myth that was Gordinni, the crime lord. He ran the city, or at least its underbelly. Tammi was likely his mistress, that much I had put together. Why he thought it was necessary to keep me away, I had no idea. I didn't really care anything about Tammi, except that she might be able to point me to Rebecca. Rebecca wasn't returning my hourly calls.

"Just get me out of here," I answered quickly. Carl was quite clear that I looked like shit and reiterated his desire that I spend another night. The hospital staff wasn't overly happy and thought I should clear it with Dr. White. I insisted, and they were forced to grant my demands. I conceded to using a wheelchair to end the argument.

"Man, this girl isn't good for you," Carl said, shaking his head.

"I love her."

"I hope you don't love her to death," Carl chuckled. I laughed. It hurt. I exited the wheelchair as soon as we hit the parking lot. I was walking a little funny, trying to use my legs without over-twisting my torso. Climbing into the car was painful, but I could manage. At least the dizziness had abated.

"Tammi will know where she is," I said as Carl started the car. He rolled his eyes.

"I'm not taking you to see the Godfather's girlfriend," Carl stated. I shook my head.

"Nope, I'm going alone. Tammi won't answer my calls."

"I'm not letting you go alone."

"Look, I don't know what's going on, but showing up with backup seems stupid," I said and looked over as Carl backed out of the spot. "It's not like either of us could stop these guys. I'm just hoping I can reason with them if it comes to that."

"I don't think you can take another beating. Who am I going to drink with if you they give you a pair of cement shoes?"

"If they wanted me dead, I would be. I'm thinking it won't come to that."

"Come on, even the cop tried to warn you off."

"I love her," I said again. It kind of explained it all.

"Okay," Carl conceded, "but I better get a bachelor party out of this." I smiled. "Strippers, lots of strippers." I laughed. It hurt.

++++++++++

My house was dark when I arrived. There was a strong scent of chemical cleaner in the air. I flipped on the lights. My broken fish tank sat on its stand, empty of all water. I called out for Rebecca -- there was always hope. It was met with silence. The carpet had been cleaned, and any remnants of my swimming friends were gone. Rebecca must have cleaned up. I squatted down and felt the carpeting. It was dry.

There was a note on the kitchen counter. Carl saw it first and read it. His expression wasn't pleasant when he handed it to me.

Damon, I cause too much pain. I won't allow you to forgive me. I am untouchable. Rebecca

The pain I felt in my chest was nothing compared to the one in my heart. I could not control my eyes and turned away from Carl. My angel was lost, hurting, and I wasn't there. This wasn't her doing, and if I had to cut through the entire mob to get to her, I would.