Page 8 of Mafia And Maid
Pushing open the door with more energy than I possess, the smell of antiseptic immediately assaults my nostrils.
Carefully, I sit Ethan on a chair in the corner, away from the windows and prying eyes. He holds onto his teddy bear for dear life while I turn to the front desk where a nurse in Snoopy scrubs sits.
Her eyes raking over me makes me tuck a lock of blond hair behind my ear and avert my gaze downward.
“I…” My voice is soft and rasping. “I need to see a doctor.”
Her expression melts into concern. Through the small gap in the clear glass, she slides me a clipboard. “Just fill that out as best you can, honey, and we’ll get you in to see someone.”
I nod and slump down beside Ethan. My handwriting is wobbly, and the sting of fresh tears clouds my eyes.
When my name is finally called, I gather our things as best I can.
The doctor, a gentle-looking redhead with Care Bears all over her scrubs and a bright smiley face pinned on her coat, examines me with care. She doesn’t ask unnecessary questions or prod me for answers.
With a soft soothing voice, she moves me from the examining room to the x-ray room and back, all while a nurse follows closely with Ethan in tow.
The look on the doctor’s face is all I need to see to know it’s bad.
We’re back in the examination room now, and wordlessly, she sets down some clean clothing.
I just stare. “I can’t… I don’t want—”
“You can, and you should. We get a lot of women like you here. Take the pain meds, change your clothes, and I’ll be back with an ice pack.” She gives me a soft smile. “If you need us to call someone, just let me know. I’ll give you a few minutes.”
She’s right—my clothes are in a state, ripped from when Grayden grabbed me and dragged me across the floor.
I avoid looking at my body in the small mirror as I tug on the T-shirt and hoodie. I do the same with the faded pair of yoga pants, tying them at the waist despite not needing to do so. I’ve enough in my hips to keep them up.
I toss the torn clothing in the trash just as the doctor returns. “Do you have a place to stay?”
It hits me that I haven’t made a plan beyond getting to the clinic. I don’t know what I’m doing. We’re out on the streets in Chicago in the middle of night. Alone. My lip trembles, and I squeeze my eyes shut. “No.”
“There’s a shelter on the next block. I’m not sure if they have any spaces left for tonight, but would you like me to ask?”
I nod my head.
With that, she leaves, and I rummage through my purse, counting the measly dollars in my wallet. Enough for one meal—and painkillers. But not enough for a place to stay for the night. The answer she returns with has my body shaking with exhaustion and defeat: the shelter is full.
Gnawing my lip, I thank both the doctor and nurse before I guide us both back out into the chilly air. My body is growing heavy from the pain medicine, and my vision is blurry with tears, but I manage to read the street names.
With a quick stop to make a purchase at a corner store, I orient myself. The park I take Ethan to is just on the next street. Maybe we can sit there while I try to figure something out.
And then it hits me.
Kori.
The walk is long and sluggish, with me having to stop every so often to catch my breath. But I count each small square house as we pass, hoping I’ve remembered it correctly.
Kori and her son, Kristopher, were a blessing we stumbled upon at the park one day. Kori, a single mother herself, wasn’t involved in the world I was in. She was different—and she was stronger for it.
My hand shakes as I knock. I don’t know what time it is, but the look of the vacant street tells me that it’s extremely late by now.
No answer.
My mouth fills with cotton as I squeeze Ethan’s hand, putting on a brave face as best I can. My darling boy doesn’t deserve this life; he deserves so much more.
“Rosa?”