Chapter 672
“Tammie! Tammie!”
Still nothing.
Panicked, Benedict tried the doorknob, but it was locked from the inside.
“Tammie!”
He threw his shoulder against the door, praying that his fears were unfounded. But he knew. He knew something was terribly wrong. Otherwise, Tammie would have answered.
*CRACK!*
The door frame finally splintered, and the door flew open.
The moment it did, the thick, metallic scent of blood hit him. He flipped on the light switch.
The sight on the bed made his legs go weak.
Blood. The bed was soaked in it.
“Tammie! Tammie!”
Tammie’s face was ghostly white, and he was unconscious.
With trembling hands, Benedict dialed 911. “Hello, 911? My… my friend… he cut his wrists! There’s so much blood!” As he spoke, his voice broke into a sob.
“Sir, please stay calm. I’m dispatching an ambulance now. I’m going to walk you through some first aid.”
“First, you need to apply pressure to the wound to stop the bleeding
Benedict tried to follow the operator’s instructions, but his hands were shaking too violently to be effective.
Thankfully, it was late, and there was no traffic. The ambulance arrived within minutes. Tammie was carried out on a stretcher, and Benedict climbed into the ambulance with him.
Tammie’s condition was critical. He was in shock from the massive blood loss, and his vital signs were dropping rapidly.
“Are you family?” a paramedic asked.
“I’m his friend,” Benedict replied, his eyes red and swollen.
“What about his parents?”
Benedict shook his head. “His father is dead, and his mother left years ago.”
A flicker of sympathy crossed the paramedic’s face. “Then you’ll have to sign the consent forms. The patient is in extremely critical condition. Even if we stabilize him, he’ll need to be in the ICU for observation.”
Benedict felt like his world was ending. He took the pen from the paramedic and signed the forms with a trembling hand.
Meanwhile, Ann was in a holding cell, arrested for corporate espionage and the illegal acquisition of funds.
Her first night, was hell. The
fifteen-by-fifteen-foot room housed twelve people. The weather was already hot and nuggy, but there was no air conditioning only an old ceiling fan that whirred and clicked, its noise blending with the chorus of snores from the other inmates. It was impossible to sleep.
What she found most unbearable was the complete lack of privacy and dignity. There was even a camera in the bathroom. Ann had been raised in comfort. Even after Keira had kicked her out, she’d never truly suffered. Google seaʀᴄh.net
Now, she was locked in a holding cell.
Even worse, her cellmates had told her that this was luxury compared to actual prison. If she was convicted, the conditions would be ten times worse. The thought was more than she could bear.
Fear, raw and suffocating, washed over her. She covered her mouth, trying to stifle her sobs, but the woman sleeping next to her, the cell boss, heard her. She shot up and slapped Ann hard across the face.
“Shut the hell up, you bitch! What are you crying for? You’re keeping me awake!”
Ann was stunned. Before she could react, another blow landed on her head. Her vision swam.
“I said shut up!” The cell boss was a large, heavyset woman. “You make another sound, and I’ll beat you to death!”
The commotion woke the other inmates, who all turned to watch. No one stepped in to help. Their eyes were filled with cold amusement.
“You hear me?” The woman grabbed a fistful of Ann’s hair, her spittle flying as she snarled in her face. Her breath was a foul, rancid stench.
Ann’s face contorted in pain and disgust. “I’m sorry, Rose! I’m sorry! It won’t happen again!”
*Just you wait,* Ann thought venomously. *When I get out of here, you’ll pay for this.*
Hearing her apology, Rose finally released her hair.
didn’t dare make
After that, Ang di
another sound, crying silently into her pillow. Why was this happening to her? She wanted out. She wanted her freedom But now she didn’t have the means to hireca lawyer. The hopelessness was absolute.
At the hospital, after emergency surgery, Tammie was moved to the ICU. His condition was extremely poor. Visiting was limited to once a day, for twenty minutes.
Benedict, dressed in a sterile gown, entered the room. Tammie lay on the bed, his face ashen, his upper body a mess of tubes and wires. If it weren for the rhythmie beeping of the monitors beside him, he would have looked like a corpse
Standing by the bedside, Benedict’s voice choked with emotion. “Tammie, you have to get better. You can’t just leave like this. Lindy may be gone, but she has a son, a family. You have to wake up. You have to take responsibility for Tim.”
He spoke for the full twenty minutes, but Tammie showed no response. Soon, the time was up, and Benedict had to leave.
He went straight to the attending physician’s office. “Doctor, when will my friend Tammie wake up?”
The doctor reviewed Tammie’s chart, his expression grave. “He’s lost the will to live. If he doesn’t regain consciousness by ten a.m. the day after tomorrow, he might never wake up at all.”
***