Shattered

Chapter 1 Bradley

"All the world's a stage and most of us are desperately unrehearsed." Sean O'Casey

Chaos was overwhelming: and yet completely unavoidable. Bradley Whitfield yelped as the intravenous needle was forcefully thrust into the underside of her forearm. She extended her fingers towards Mark Harber. She simply needed to feel him, to breathe him. Mark instantly took her hand in his, his body extended over the blanket covering the lower half of her body. His face was resigned, not giving Bradley the comfort she needed. After all, her sister had just tried to kill her.

"Pulse is one-twenty. BP is one-sixty over one-ten. I need to push sodium nitroprusside."

"Bradley," Detective Jones' black medium ballpoint pen was still pressed to the tiny notepad. "I just need to know who hurt you. Was it someone you knew? Was it a stranger? How did you end up in the lake?"

"Look lady," the young male paramedic snapped, "I let you ride in the bus with us but she's not talking to you until she's cleared by the doctor at the hospital, capish?"

The sirens overhead were blaring as the ambulance sped far from the lake that almost claimed her life. Her clothing was soaked, her body shivering. The blankets over her frail body hardly provided warmth. Bradley tilted her head back to watch what the male paramedic behind her was doing. Her body was weak, exhausted and she was freezing cold. She struggled to keep her eyes open; afraid of what might happen if she let herself drift away. Everything in the vehicle was moving; she was dizzy and confused and felt Mark squeeze his hand tighter around her own. Suddenly, the queasiness set in.

"I'm going to be sick," she mumbled hastily turning her head to the side, vomiting all over the floor of the ambulance.

"You're okay," the paramedic said gently holding her face to the side. He kicked a small garbage can under her face, through the bile. Tears started rolling down her cheeks, acutely aware of the disgust and embarrassment rolling through her insides. "Just let it out."

Bradley gagged again and the warm putrid liquid flowed out of her like a rushing water spout. Her stomach was convulsing. The puking was uncontrollable, yet she felt heinous and repulsive. Mark squeezed her hand even tighter. He was the only person she needed with her. And, she couldn't stand the thought of him seeing her like this. She was sure his jeans were soaked from the lake and now her vomit.

Bradley continued to gag and spit long after the contents of her stomach had been emptied. Everything was blurry. Her head was still spinning and she was so cold. She just wanted it all to end. She closed her eyes, slowly losing the battle to stay awake. The sirens blaring overhead became dull and almost quixotic.

"Bradley, wake up," she felt Mark tap on her legs. "Is she alright? Should you be letting her close her eyes like that?" There was concern in his voice. Bradley wanted to tell him she was okay, she was just resting, but her body wouldn't respond to that urge.

"Her pulse has come down and her blood pressure is stabilizing," the paramedic responded. "It would really be helpful if you could tell the doctors what drugs were at the party."

Mark collapsed over her legs again, holding her still body. "There were no drugs. At least, I...I didn't see any. It was just a party with our friends. My friends don't do drugs. It's not like there were random people that I didn't know who were snorting cocaine in the bathroom."

"Your girlfriend is definitely high right now. There were drugs at that party. It would really help if we knew what they were."

"Someone obviously drugged her! Bradley didn't voluntarily take anything. She doesn't do drugs! I know that for a fact!"

"I'm not accusing her of taking anything. But there are drugs in her system right now."

"When we were looking for Bradley we found some empty syringes down by the lake. I assume that's how she was drugged but I'm not sure. The cops have the syringes. Can't they run a test or something?"

There was a twinge of pain in Bradley's chest, she struggled to take a breath; the air didn't come. The small space in the ambulance was filled with the sound of beeping. Weight was crushing down on her chest, the sudden reminder that she almost drowned at the hands of her sister.

"I need you to move!" she heard the paramedic yell at Mark.

""I'm not letting go! Bradley, wake up!" Mark shouted. "Why isn't she moving? Do something! Come on baby, I need you to wake up for me! I love you! Please, I need you."

"Give him space to work," Detective Jones ordered.

Bradley could hear Mark's pleas, but she was helpless to respond. Her body was giving up. Her mind was fading. She loved him. After all, Mark was the reason she was alive. She had fought to be with him. He had come back for her, plucked her out of the lake that tried to claim her life at the hands of her monstrous sister. There was no fight left in her now. His voice was fading. She could see his deep blue eyes moving away from her. 

 This fight was over.