The night air was heavy, thick with the taste of rain that hadn't yet fallen.
Hustle's hands gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned bone white, every red light passed without a second thought.
Danny sat twisted around in the passenger seat, holding Sajadaa's body still, whispering broken prayers under her breath.
"Stay with me, baby," Danny kept saying, her voice cracking. "Stay up, Saj... stay up."
Sajadaa barely moved, a low whimper escaping her split lips. Her eyes fluttered open and closed, each breath shaky, wet.
The moment Hustle screeched the car to a halt outside the ER doors, Danny flew out before the engine even died.
She yanked the door open, fighting to pull Sajadaa's limp body into her arms.
"Help! Somebody help!" Danny screamed, raw and desperate.
Nurses and doctors came running, a wave of blue and white, moving fast when they saw the blood, the bruises, the way Sajadaa's body sagged like a puppet with no strings.
A gurney rattled up beside them. Hustle lifted Sajadaa with shaking arms, his heart hammering in his chest as he set her down.
"Name?" A nurse barked.
"Sajadaa Smith!" Hustle choked out, brushing bloody hair out of her face. His hands were trembling. He couldn't stop it.
As they wheeled her through the ER doors, Danny tried to follow, but a nurse shoved her back gently. "Stay here. Let us work."
The doors slammed shut.
The silence afterward was deafening.
Hustle stood frozen, chest heaving, staring at the doors like he could will them to open back up.
Danny grabbed his jacket with both hands, burying her face into his chest.
And for once — Hustle, the one always carrying others — looked just as broken.
SAJADAA'S POV - INSIDE THE ER
The world spun sideways, and her body felt detached — like it belonged to someone else. Sajadaa blinked against the blinding white light above her, her head pulsing with pain. Each flutter of her eyelids felt like it was setting fire to the bruises swelling across her face. The heat from the swelling was sharp, an angry throb that refused to let her forget what she'd just survived.
Voices floated around her like smoke, distant but insistent, almost as if they were coming from a different reality. A reality she was struggling to reach.
"Can you tell me your name?" A voice cut through the haze, its tone soft but firm.
She heard it, tried to understand it, but the words didn't seem to belong to her. Her lips barely moved, as if the very act of speaking required more energy than she had to give.
"Ms. Smith, can you hear me?" the voice persisted, a little closer now.
She tried to nod, but it felt like trying to lift a mountain with just her eyelids. Every movement hurt. Her neck ached, and the weight of her head seemed to pull her back into the darkness.
"Do you know where you are?" The question came, but it was a vague blur against the backdrop of pain.
She tried to focus. She had to. Her mind clung to the fragments of her reality, desperately trying to pull them into something cohesive. The steady beep of machines surrounded her like an anchor to hold her in place, but her thoughts kept drifting, spinning away from her like windblown leaves.
Her mother's face flashed in her mind — her cold, angry eyes, her shrill, shrieking voice. Her father's heavy hand, the sting of the belt against her skin, the thud of it landing on her back like a thunderstorm of pain.
YOU ARE READING
NOBODY
Roman d'amourA Young Girl Named Sajada Smith Has A Life Of Secrets. Nobody really knows her or her hardships. Follow her as she goes from a nobody to a boss.
