Fight For You

Chapter 2

She didn't move the entire way over to the hospital. I kept glancing in my rearview mirror, waiting for any sign of her to come to life. I'd fought so many men in the cage. I'd seen so much violence in my life, even at my own hands, but to someone so vulnerable, it hurt. I couldn't believe I could do that to someone. I felt like the biggest piece of shit and I had to make it right.

I pulled into the parking lot and of course the emergency room at Mercy was packed. I wasn't sure if I should move her. It probably would have caused more damage so I pulled right up to the front entrance

I kept the car running and went around the other side, opening the back door. I knelt down next to Jackie and whispered in her ear, "Can you hear me? Jackie? Please wake up."

Nothing. Only silence.

Shit.

"Okay, I'm going to get you help." I knew she wouldn't answer me, but it felt better to talk to her.

The automatic doors zipped open into the bright, fluorescent lights of the waiting room. Dozens of people were sitting on every chair available, with their arms wrapped in makeshift bandages or holding their heads and moaning about something or other. Each person worse than the next.

I walked up to the desk where a woman sat behind bullet proof glass, staring at a computer. She glanced up as soon as I approached. Her bored expression didn't change.

"How can I help you, sir?" she asked, letting out a deep breath.

I pointed to the double doors behind me. "Yeah, hi, I witnessed a hit and run accident with a girl on a motorcycle and she's currently in my backseat. I need someone to come and help to get her out.

"Okay." The woman stood up, her expression finally changing. Her eyebrows knitted together and she actually started to look concerned. "Is she passed unconscious?"

"Yes." I nodded. "She was the entire ride over."

The woman picked up the phone on the desk next to her. "I'll call some techs to bring her back to a room. "Would you be able to help fill out her paperwork, are you related to her?"

Before I could answer, two men in scrubs burst through the door, wheeling a stretcher. "Where is the patient?" The older gentleman with the shaved head and full sleeve of tattoos asked me.

"She's in the car, right out the front door," I answered.

They pushed me aside and rushed out the double doors. I watched as they gently secured a brace around her neck. Then they slid a long, slim plastic board underneath Jackie and positioned it so she was lying completely on top of it. Once they had her strapped on, they moved her and the board out of my car and onto the stretcher.

The other guy turned to me. "We're going to need you to move your car while we wheel her in. You can meet us in the back.

"Okay." I was barely able to get the words out as I watched them wheel her away. I could have just left her. She was in good hands with the hospital staff, but something pulled me forward, even when I parked my car I stared at myself in the rearview mirror. I'd brought so many people to their knees in front of me, made them beg for their lives and end up in the hospital, but this was different. This was out of my control.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw a small wallet sitting in my backseat—Jackie's wallet. I grabbed it and opened it, hoping to find out more about her if I was going to go with the whole Good Samaritan bringing her in thing. All I saw were a few crumpled dollars, some business cards, and her driver's license with the name Jacqueline Marks printed on it. That was it. No family pictures. No insurance card. Not even a credit card, nothing that would give me any clue about who she was or if she had any family. I swallowed hard. I had everything: a large family, money, all the power in the world and this girl had nothing. And then I had to go and hit her with my car. I had to make it right.