*One Month Later*
Wednesday January 16th, 2013 - 6:25 P.M. - Cortland Hospital
For a while now, Samantha had been floating along in the darkness. Every now and then, a voice would call out to her sounding as if it were close by. She'd catch herself turning in all directions at a poor attempt to locate the voice's master, and failed each time. It was that woman who introduced herself not too long ago; she couldn't get that woman out of her head. Dianne, was it? Where is she now? She would give anything to hear the woman's voice again. Anything that could potentially let her escape this purgatory-like place where the blackness stretched on for eternity.
"Dianne?" Samantha heard her voice echoing throughout that place, as if she were in a deep cavern; deep enough to not allow any light in. "Are you there?" She lowered her voice, since the acoustics were getting to her now. An odd coldness followed alongside the dark; shivers, that's all her body produced. Why is it so fucking cold? Please, God… Please don't tell me this is my hell? Will I ever leave? Hope had begun fading from her a long time ago. "Sammie?" her nickname made her ears perk up a bit. "I know that voice… Layla?"
No matter where she looked, the shadowed walls refused to place a face to her friend's voice. "Layla?! Please… Pleeease get me out of here!" Sorrow had become her new best friend; there's the tears... By now, this was routine. It starts with the talking, not only from herself but from the others around her. Then that deep depression and finally, the tears that were now soaking into her clothes. It's all she could do to muster an emotion in this place. That and aggravation towards Dianne who refused to show herself. Ever since her last statement, she never spoke again. There were times where Samantha felt she was going insane, as whispering voices spoke to her inside her head. She could practically feel her brain splitting as these disembodied people continued their disturbing conversations.
A mention of blood and murder caught her attention more than a few times during her stay here. Some spoke of peace and happiness whilst one voice, that stood out from them all, talked about his passion for justice. "Vengeance will set you free, girl." The man said this more than a hundred times in her head, like a broken record player that refused to stop skipping. His voice seemed to be the driving factor behind her thoughts of insanity. What freaked her out the most was that she believed the guy. Everything he mentioned made complete sense, despite the weirdness and worry she felt when he talked so nonchalantly about it.
"I've done cases on rapists, drug addicts, drug pushers, thugs, murderers, mass murderers, serial killers; I've dealt with them all. And as much as I loved the justice system, it just didn't quite get the job done." It was surprising to her that this phrase replayed itself word for word in her head. She sat down, not knowing what was underneath, with her thoughts continuously rampaging. There was something about this man's voice. It sounded somewhat low, a bit edgy, but confident. That was the one thing he had that helped her understand.
For the most part, detecting lies became old hat. She could spot one from a mile away and was able to tell if someone had genuinely made up a bull shit story just to get her attention. But this guy; this one was different. There had been a sense of poise and dignifying pride etched into his voice. His words on his lack of faith in justice were chilling; mind numbing even. Even with all of that against him, Samantha couldn't bring herself not to believe him. "A penny for your thoughts?" A split second passed where she thought her mother was there, quickly realizing that this wasn't Rosita's voice. It took all her energy to swallow her fear, and gulped her saliva down. As she swiped her hair back, she realized her hands were shaking again.
Get a hold of yourself damn it… Her eyes shut just for a second to try and bring her nerves back down. That was when Layla's voice returned. "Sammie… Sammie… Sammie…" The words split open her mind once more. A never ending headache pursued as Layla continued to speak. "You gotta wake up hun'… hun'… hun'…" "Fuck! M-My head… Make it stop. I'm begging you!" Her hair was being pulled hard by her own two hands. "PLEASE STOP!" She shook the very foundation of that abyss; cracks formed along the walls just like they did in the nightmare a day before.
"Hun'… Hun'… Hun'… Stop screaming, I'm here… here… here…" The furious throbbing in her head wouldn't halt its actions. "WAKE ME UP! PLEEEEASSSEE!" The cracks grew even wider, nearly touching each other now. She allowed her eyes to focus on the ground before her, where there were more of them. "Darlin'! It's me, Layla… Layla… Layla…" Samantha's heart began pumping hard in her chest. Everywhere around her, light was pouring in. Please wake me up. I'm begging you. A few tears hit her legs; her lips trembled and couldn't be stopped.
"She's waking up. Can you hear me Samantha?" another woman's voice came into fruition now. What the…? The sudden change of pitch and tone struck her hard; her breathing had begun to calm down. "Can you get me out of here? I've asked nicely so many times." It wasn't the most convincing she could've been, but she prayed the two heard her. Every single one of the cracks were touching now. Samantha jolted upright; her blood was running cold with fear. An invisible earthquake had been rumbling all around, and a sound of breaking glass met her ears.
All of the darkness was blown away forcibly, as an incredible light swept over every inch of her skin. The worry was being washed away; a ceiling light came into focus. There was a rhythm of beeping to the left, Layla's voice went alongside it, as well as the other woman's directly to the right. "Samantha, can you tell me the year you were born?" The woman asked; her voice had a Spanish accent to it. Samantha could tell she was nauseated; her stomach felt twisted, displacing all her acid. "I think I'm gonna vomit. Ohh! Oh God!"
She clenched her teeth, grasping the flesh of her belly and the bed handle. The woman was coming into focus now. Her face looked almost like Gwen Stefani's, but with a slightly chubbier build and a thicker/wider mouth. She had skin that was naturally dark tan with even darker, thick hair that had been tied back. "Your eyes are the most amazing forest green." It took all of Samantha's energy to even muster this statement, before feeling that nausea coming back. The bile was burning her throat, resting at the back of her mouth. She swallowed it hard, ignoring the searing sensation.
"I am Doctor Ellen Spire. I was wondering if you could answer my question from before?" What question was that?! OH! Oww! Ugh, my stomach! "Oh yeah… my birth year is… N-Nineteen Nine, ohh! Ninety three." "Very good! You're in the Cortland Regional Medical Center, do you know where that's located?" "C-Cortland New… New York." She wanted to fall back asleep, even if that meant being in the darkness again. The bile refused to stop churning and burning. "It's s-so hard t-to talk…" Her lungs were aching now. Breathing became more of a chore as it was harder and harder to take in air.
"It's okay to feel a shortness of breath after having a seizure. To be honest, the one you had baffled me. I've been your doctor for over eighteen years and not once have you showed any sign of brain damage or anything that would cause this." "Why does my head hurt?" Samantha grunted a bit when her fingers met the fleshy bruise on the back of it.
"You hit the floor pretty hard hun'. Hard enough to cause you to bleed," Layla replied. She was holding onto the bars of the bed. "We did a number of tests on you, per your friend's request. I see that you named her as your health care proxy, so her decisions were legally made. She asked for an STD swab and a pregnancy test." Ellen got up, squinting from all the sunlight. The charts rested in her hand; she read through them briefly.
A squeezing coming from her arm told Samantha that her friend was grasping her. Sure enough, she saw those beautifully nailed fingers holding snuggly onto her flesh. "Good news is, you're STD free. There's no sign of any form in your bloodstream, but we'll keep an eye out for HIV or AIDS. As for the pregnancy test…" Ellen went through a couple more sheets. "Oh my…" "Oh god, what?" The way her doctor's voice sounded; it didn't sit right. Samantha's hope was dwindling again. Just when she thought the hell was over, something bad had to happen. Ellen kept shuffling through her papers, unable to say another word. "Why can't you just fucking be straight with me?!"
That balloon-like feeling she had a while ago had returned. Each lung was becoming constricted; her entire future was seemingly being destroyed before her very eyes. She felt her arm shake a bit drawing her back towards her friend, who's tear stricken eyes scared her even more. "Hun', you were admitted to the hospital over one month ago." "One mon… one month?! I've been in the h-hospital…" Reality hit her harder than ever before. "God no…" She fell back into her bed, wishing she'd doze off. "I know this may be a bit of a shock to you and I'm sorry that I even have to tell you this. Your official log in date was exactly one month ago."
The doctor's statement was all that her stomach needed as it began lurching. "I'm g-gonna be s-…" She tried to finish her statement, to no avail. A bed pan had been set onto her stomach as the sour liquid poured out of her. It went on for a short while, as all of her fluids splashed and sloshed around. It took nearly five minutes for the sick feeling to go away, though she still felt disgusting and violated. "I'm sorry. I'm…" Layla hushed her. The girl's warming, Southern voice caressed Samantha's ears. "Don't say sorry for something you aren't guilty of doing."
That mother fucker! He impregnated me! Sure enough, Ellen was grasping her hands with a loving touch. Samantha mixed that with the glassy eyes and she knew her thoughts were verified. Even still, it hurt to hear the news. She took a few swallows of water, that Layla offered. "Honey, I'm so sorry to say this, but I have to be straight with you. The night you were raped, Corey wasn't wearing a condom, which I assume you know by now." Ellen trailed off.
Samantha wanted to cry so bad; she just wanted to curl up into a ball and wail into her pillow, but she didn't. She had to have the doctor physically say what she most feared at that moment. With a deep breath, she was able to calm her nerves, continuing to focus on her doctor. Sobbing began to the left of her bed, making it that much harder to stay calm. "Apparently you weren't on your period either. I'll admit that you were lucky to bypass contracting an STD; that still doesn't make this easier however."
Layla had pulled a chair up, catching her attention. Her soul was screaming at the top of its lungs now. The only time someone would have to sit down when breaking news to someone, was if something was bad. Even though she knew the horrific truth in her mind, she still hoped it was just a paranoid thought. "Doctor Ellen's right Honey." Samantha let her friend grab her hand, as she stroked it gingerly. "Sammie. Darlin'… The pregnancy test came back positive." Positive. Positive. Positive. Just that one word; she was unable to push it from her mind.
Instinctively, she slid her hands down to her belly and pushed. At first, it just felt slightly chubby like before. As they went deeper, a certain firmness welcomed her touch. "Oh god. No! NOOO!" Real reality was setting in. No matter how many times her fingers pushed, the stiffened flesh wouldn't give away. "This; this c-can't be happening. Not to me; not like; like this! Why God? What have I done to deserve this?" She hadn't even realized that Ellen had already left, shutting the shades behind her. "Please hold me? Pl-Please?" Her friend instantly yanked her into a hug.
The softness and breathing of Layla's chest cooed her a bit, though her sobbing continued for a while. She felt herself being rocked a bit back and forth, as she kept crying into her friend's arms. "It's gonna be okay honey. Shh. It's all okay, don't cry. I'll be with you every step of the way." Those words were music to her ears, though the sadness never ended. "Mmm." That was all the energy in her body could muster before she broke down completely.
* * * *
7:00 P.M.
Corey Smith's Apartment Main Street. Cortland, N.Y.
Corey Smith had been up in his apartment, which was just above a bar on main street, overlooking a four way intersection. It was like any old modest apartment, with a kitchen to his right, the bathroom to the left of that and his bed/living room right where he was. He pushed himself up over and over, thinking of his past actions. A beer can had gotten in the way, which he lobbed aside towards an overflowing garbage bag of them in the corner. As he routinely pushed himself away from the dirty carpet, images of Samantha appeared. They would go back and forth between ones of her looking happy and innocent, to the ones where her shirt was ripped and her breasts had been exposed.
Even then, as he continued his push ups, heat surged throughout him, ending in his privates. It was just like every single hour after that incident. He was so turned on by that girl; so happy to be around her and then, as if a Mack truck of conscience hit him head on, pangs of never ending guilt followed. He hadn't even noticed the burning in his biceps, or the fact that his muttering count was up to a hundred and ten.
Sweat dripped down onto the carpet, as he kept on this regiment. Around one hundred and eleven, a knock on his door had yanked him back to a horrible realization. He collapsed onto the floor, weak from the strenuous exercise. "Mr. Smith, are you in there? It's the Cortland P.D. We have a warrant out for your arrest. If you come out peacefully, we will tell the judge you cooperated." Adrenaline shot him straight back up to his feet; his gaze never left the old door before him. Well I knew this was coming. That bitch! He hadn't even realized his hair was balled up inside his hands, not until a few strands were pulled out.
Knowing how the justice system worked, the majority of his young adult life would be spent in prison and it was all because he couldn't keep his dick in his pants. The police would soon be in there; he knew it. All of Corey's focus had now been put towards the side stand table next to his bed. Other than the nearly empty bottles of Jack Daniels, a folded up letter sat there, mocking him. Before he knew it, the paper was in his hands and for the hundredth time, he let his eyes scan over it.
It read: To Mr. Corey Smith. We have been notified that you hold the college's record for most season points in football. We would like to cordially invite you, with a full football scholarship, to Florida State University. We believe you're just what this school needs and promise all of our athletes a shot at the pro teams, as long as they perform at peak perfection. "I'm not gonna ask you again Mr. Smith. Open this door!"
Corey ignored the man and read on. We at the Florida State University look far and wide across this magnificent country to find the best of the best, and we want you! Enclosed is a form you can sign, and we'll get your transcripts at the end of your next year. We hope to hear back from you soon!
Sincerely,
- Dean Louis Marcello
There it is. My future is literally resting in my hands and I can't even answer them. "Why'd I have to fucking do that? Fuck, I'm so stupid! FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FFUUUUCCKK!" He was scared, frantically trying to find a way to escape this. His shaky hands grasped the bottle of whiskey, tipping the rest down his throat. That familiar heat; it tingled peacefully. There was a kick at the door; the bottle shot out of his grasp. "We're coming in Mr. Smith." Another kick; he started drinking from the other bottle. A third kick; the college acceptance letter furled in his fist.
Just as the last drop of alcohol slithered down his throat, the door slammed open. "Put down the bottle sir," the lead cop stated. He's tall, muscular, and has a thick black mustache. A long scar ran across him from one ear to the other. His hair is slicked back, like a greaser's, and his nose and ears are very large. "I am Head Detective, Roy Ansteram." Before he could even react, Corey felt the wrath of two enormous cops, as they thrust him onto the bed.
"Corey Smith, you are under arrest for the rape of Samantha Hive. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say, can and will be held against you in the court of law. You have a right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, the state will provide one for you. Do you understand these rights that I have just read off?" "G-Get off me! I DIDN'T DO ANYTHING!" These words flew from his mouth in an instant. He did do it; even now he could feel that orgasm. Then the self loathing set in; a scowl formed without him even trying. The two heavy cops got him onto his feet, and turned him towards the detective.
. The man was shaking his head; an unsettling sensation in Corey's stomach arrived in full blow. "Sir. Do you understand these rights that I've read off to you?" Roy's voice was strong and stern. "Y-Yes." He felt his entire soul and heart ache. The two cops carried him off, out the door and outside. The cop car sat there, lights flashing and door wide open, happy to welcome him to its cold interior. The image of Samantha was still fresh in his mind. He was pushed into the back seat, and the door shut beside him. As he gazed through the chain linked mesh before him, a disgusting smile appeared.
He didn't want to grin; not at this. The lusty elation filling him up inside was far too much to ignore. He stole a glance out the side window, up towards the former apartment. Roy had still been watching him, stroking his mustache. You always did that when you were nervous. Ain't that right…? Pops? Before the car sped off, leaving the head detective behind, his heart nearly stopped as his enraged ex stared at him through the window.