trying to placate him. It was a ridiculous idea as he was obviously high, but Joe’s only thought was to get him away from Kitty. ‘What are you doing?’
The guy was still spinning, turning at the sound of Joe’s voice. ‘Stay away from me.’ His rancid breath assailed Joe’s senses and his pupils were so dilated that his eyes looked like two dark holes in his face. He lashed out at Joe as he turned. Joe felt a searing pain in his hand and saw the light bouncing off a steel blade.
A knife.
He hadn’t anticipated that.
He tried to skid to a stop but his momentum carried him forward, straight into the path of the blade.
Pain burst through his abdomen.
The pain was similar to getting punched in the stomach and Joe had time to think it was strange—he’d always expected knifing pain to be sharp. He pushed the man away from him with a force he hadn’t known he had, and as the man stumbled backwards Joe looked down. The pain wasn’t excruciating. Maybe he hadn’t just been stabbed?
He put his hand over his stomach and it came away covered in blood. He could feel it now, warm and wet and sticky, soaking into his dark blue uniform.
Ahead of him, over the man’s right shoulder, Joe saw four of the hospital security staff arrive, followed by one of the ED doctors. The security guards threw a net over the man, who bucked and thrashed like a wild animal. It took all four guards to hold him down.
As Joe watched the man kicking and screaming under the net, red and blue light bathed the walls of the ED, flashing on and off and making the experience a little surreal as police cars pulled up to the department doors. The police rushed in, tasers in hand and guns holstered, but Joe could see that their holsters were unclipped and ready for whatever happened next. Joe knew they would have been through this process before. They all had. This was nothing new in hospital emergency departments country-wide.
But the police were not the front line this time. The security guards had managed to contain the man. They had his hands pinned behind his back but he continued to resist. Two policeman joined in as they attempted to subdue him, attempted to get him into a position where the doctor could administer a sedative. Six big men and one doctor. All to contain one drug user. And meanwhile Kitty was still lying sprawled against the wall. She hadn’t moved and no one had been near her. No one had so much as glanced her way. There was no one spare.
There was only him.
He had to help her.
He took a step towards her but his knees buckled under him, surprising him, and he found himself kneeling on the floor in a pool of his own blood.
He was bent double and it hurt to breathe, but at least he was still breathing. His left hand was pressed against his stomach, just below his ribs, and he could feel his lungs inflate and deflate. His stomach muscles screamed and his right hand throbbed, but he was alive and breathing. Kitty still hadn’t moved.
He moved his left hand, placing it on the floor to stabilise himself. He pressed his right elbow into his side and applied pressure to his abdominal wound as he crawled across the floor to Kitty, leaving a trail of blood in his wake.
She was still slumped against the wall. She was pale and her eyes were closed. He could see the small bump of her pregnancy under the blue fabric of her scrubs and he could see the rise and fall of her chest just above the bump. He let out a sigh of relief and some of the tension he’d been holding dissolved with the sigh. She was breathing.
He knelt beside her and reached out, putting his left hand on her shoulder. He winced in pain as the movement stretched his stomach.
‘Kitty, can you hear me? Open your eyes.’ He shook her shoulder, very gently, and his hand left a bloody print on her top. ‘Kitty?’ he repeated, and he could hear the desperation in his voice.
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