Rose of Betrayal (18 page)

           
Ralph
cringed.
 
No one spoke to Brad in such a
manner and got away with it. You could almost see the froth spewing from Brad's
mouth as he lurched across the room halting so close to the doctor their clothes
touched.
 
Holding his clenched fists at
his side, fighting the urge to tear the doctor apart, words spit between
gritted teeth.
 
“Then, you don't know me
very well, Doc.”

           
“Just
maybe I do,” he responded, winking at Ralph who had positioned himself behind
Brad fully prepared to impede his advances toward the physician if necessary.
          
“Now that you have regained that
fighting spirit, are you ready to see Samantha?”
 

“First you have to be honest with
me.
 
Is there a chance?”

“I really don't know.
 
But, if there were only one in a million,
would you take it?”

“Damn right.”

“That's more like it.”

           
It
was not until they began making their way to I.C.U. that Brad realized Dr.
Swartz antagonized him on purpose.
 
Using
a lengthy list of expletives, he silently upbraided himself for being such a
damn fool.
   

           
Appearing
as though they were statues, two police officers stood on opposing sides of the
door to Sam's room.
 
They frisked Ralph
and Brad both relieved to see they were taking every precaution.
 

           
Upon
entering, Brad braced himself against the closed door.
 
Nothing could have prepared him for the
scene.
 
Inhaling deeply a strong pungent
odor he could almost taste, almost feel on his skin, he inspected the form
lying on the stainless steel bed raising the white sheet draped in small uneven
mounds.
    
Hyperventilating, his eyes
scanned the slight form covered with bandages, the small portion of face that
was visible, the tubes extruding from openings, the monitors beeping life
signs.
 
Despite the heart refusing to
acknowledge the victim was Sam, his mind screamed the truth.

Drawing attention a
movement in the dark corner of the room startled Brad.
 
A stalwart figure wearing a uniform and badge
stood silently.
 

           
Swallowing
the ball of fear clogging his throat, Brad slowly continued toward the
bed.
 
Racing palpitations causing blood
to charge through narrow tunnels turned his face crimson.
 
A forearm swiped at the perspiration induced
by the tremendous concentration each step required.
 
Reaching Sam’s side, he stood for long
moments before slipping her small hand into his.
  
Dear God, it felt like death.

           
Noticing his young friend
stagger, grabbing a chair Ralph followed close behind managing to place support
beneath Brad just as his legs buckled.
 
As tears streaked his flushed cheeks, through the blur, he watched
Brad’s lips brush Sam's fingertips.
 

           
Vividly
a reflection flashed before Ralph; the screams, the pleading, how her hand
trembled, how cold it felt, how it squeezed his, how it had been the only part
of her he recognized.
  
Asphyxiating on
the sudden urge to retch, he fled the room.

           
Positioning
his elbows carefully on the bed, Brad lowered his forehead to Sam's hand.
 
Tightening the hold, he sobbed until tears
drained and replenishing sleep prevailed.

           
Hours
later, a nurse standing beside him startled him awake.
 
She was holding a tray containing awful
hospital food insisting he eat and drink to maintain sufficient stamina for the
challenge ahead.
 
An order he ignored until
she turned to the person in the corner and ordered his removal unless he did.

           
Just
as Brad finished eating, Ralph returned, with a change of clothing in
hand.
 
He would watch over Sam, he
promised, while Brad freshened up.

           
When
Brad reentered the room a short time later, Ralph was relieved to the
improvement in his appearance and fortitude. Now he was ready for the
monumental job he faced.
 

           
Exchanging
places with Ralph, Brad leaned down to kiss the small opening exposing Sam’s
left eye and cheek.
 
Confidently he
spoke, “I'm here, Princess.
 
It’s
Brad.
 
I will never leave you again.
 
I promise.
  
We are going to fight together and win.
 
Do you hear me, Sam?
 
We are going
to win.
 
Whoever did this to you will
suffer the torments of hell before I'm finished?”

           
Massaging
her hand he gently splayed kisses on the exposed portion of her face.
 
Recalling bittersweet memories, he thought
silently, “I'll make her remember. I'll tell her how I felt, how I feel, how
much I love her, need her.
 
I'll tell her
everything.”

Ralph was not sure if
it was his imagination or reality, but he swore he had seen a slight change in
the monitor readings.
 
Not wanting to
give Brad false hope, he stifled the urge to reveal his secret.

..............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................……………………………………………………………

           
What
is that smell?
 
Oh, please, someone, stop
the pain.
 
It hurts so badly.
 
I smell something familiar. Why can’t I move
or see?
 
Oh, God, what is happening to
me?
 
Help me . . . help me.
 
Was that a voice?
 
Did I hear something?
 
If I am dead, how can I smell and hear?
 
My hand, something is on my hand, something
touched my cheek, I know it.
  
That
voice! I recognize that voice.
 
Please
don't stop talking to me.
 
I feel so
alone and frightened.

           
Struggling
to penetrate the dark cloud hovering over her, Sam tried lifting the eyelids
that felt glued shut.
 
The cloud refused
to move.

CHAPTER 16

“OCTOBER,
2010”

           
Sleep
sealed Brad's eyelids.
 
Absorbing Sam in
his arms, he was incognizant of his long lean torso stretching the length of the
sofa, the change of position placing Sam on her side wedged between him and the
back cushion. One of her legs slipping between the openings of her robe now
splayed across his thighs.
  
While sound
asleep, Sam's fingers deciding to journey on their own had crawled across the
thick carpet of Brad's chest, black, springy spirals that were now holding them
captive. With her face burrowed into the crook of his neck both swept away on a
cloud of peace neither had known for a long time.

………………………………………….………………………....................................................................................................................................................................................................................................

           
Sitting
on the edge of the swirling bed, head pulsating, stomach retching inside out,
Ted vowed, “I swear I'll never drink again.” A common resolution made after
each binge.
 
With his eyelids slit barely
enough to allow light to enter, he staggered to the closet in search of clothing.
 
Patience dwindled he pitched clothes into
piles until finding a favored jogging suit.
 
Slipping limbs into the openings somewhat dissipated the fog clouding
his mind allowing room for a nagging conscience.
 
“This time you did it up big time, you
jerk.
 
You have lost your chance with
Sam.
 
She is going to hate your guts for
what you did.
 
Somehow, you have to
convince her, the alcohol was to blame.
 
You love her too much to ruin it now. Well, don't you?”

           
Replaying
the events of the previous night, Ted remembered the firm breasts cupped in his
hands, the silky skin, and the warmth of Sam’s tiny body pressed close to
his.
 
“Enough you ass,” his conscience
barked.
 
“Lustful thoughts are what got
you in trouble in the first place.
 
You'd
better crawl on your hands and knees like the roach you are and beg for
forgiveness.”

           
Jolted
into reality brought with it a compelling need for caffeine.
 
Ambling down the hall, each step like a
hammer pounding his skull, he entered the living area.
 
Dazed he stood at the end of the sofa.
 
Pulsating pain previously swelling his skull
plunged to his chest.
 
His vision
cleared.
 
Infiltrating him now were
mysterious feelings tingeing his face with color.
 
Biting his lower lip, he desperately
attempted to keep vulgarities from escaping.
 
Whatever the emotions were, his condition allowed no room for
rationalization.
  

Having always shared
everything, nothing ever came between Ted and Brad before.
 
This time, Brad had stepped over the
line.
 
Sam was one possession he was not
about to share.

           
As
he stared at the couple, Ted wondered if they had made love.
 
Why else would Sam allow Brad to hold
her?
 
Why were they sleeping
together?
 
Why didn’t she fight Brad as
she did him?
 
Why was she in a robe?
Adrenaline seizing both hands snatched Brad's shirt yanking him to his
feet.
 

Startled out of a wonderful sense of
serenity, Sam sat up screaming, “Ted!
 
What on earth are you doing?”

           
Despite
partial consciousness, Brad's primitive instinct was to fight.
 
He swung his fist barely missing Ted. “What
in hell has gotten into you?
 
Knock it
off,” Brad bellowed.

           
Ted
retaliated.
 
Brad ducked catching him off
guard.
 
Hands shot out, gripping,
tugging, clinging like leeches they careened to the floor rolling against the
coffee table tipping it over and shattering glass into ragged slivers.

           
Leaping
off the sofa, striving to wedge between them Sam screeched, “For heaven's sake,
both of you, stop it.
 
Nothing happened,
Ted.”
 
As Ted raised his fist to punch
Brad, when Sam grabbed it, hurled to the floor she was.
 

Scrambling to his feet hauling Ted
with him Brad yelled, “Have you gone mad?
  
For Christ’s sake, Ted, cut it out.
  
I didn't touch Sam, honest!”

           
Ted
launched himself against Brad propelling both backward into a chair. With his
weight crushing Brad, and his eyes bulging with rage, Ted vowed, “I'll kill you
both if you ever touch her. I swear it.”
 
Despite the many quarrels and skirmishes over the years, Brad was
convinced this time Ted was crazy.
 

Climbing onto Ted's back, Sam
clutched fists full of hair, yanking, and pulling.
 
 

Feeling the threads
tearing from his skull, Ted yelled, “Dammit, Sam!” Reaching around to shove her
offered Brad the advantage, he needed.
 
Knuckles
sinking into Ted's flesh tore through layers of skin and sent Ted and Sam
plunging to the floor.

Gaping in disbelief at the two
sprawled on the rug, Sam's legs spread eagle, Ted between them, had Brad
springing to his feet.
 
“Dammit, now look
what you made me do?”