I heard the ambulance driver tell Jimmy that I’d be transported to Saint Luke’s Hospital, which was one town over. He conveyed the message to Ryan. I was so relieved that he knew where to find me. I’d never make it to Miami or his hotel... not today.
The ambulance crew rolled me to my side; I cried out in pain when they rolled me onto my arm. Slowly they rolled me onto my back and I was strapped down in place on a stiff board.“I tried to cross the street. We have a stalker. She was waiting, in her car.” I had to catch my breath. The pain in my stomach was excruciating. “I
thought she was going to run me over. So I ran. I ran. I didn’t see the other car. I wasn’t looking.” My words came easier now, even though my teeth were starting to chatter together and my lip felt twenty pounds over-inflated.
“Officer,” the paramedic shouted. I had to repeat my story.
“Angelica… Staunton. She’s… stalking me and my boyfriend. She must have gotten out of jail. We have a restraining order; it’s in my purse.” I tried to point. It hurt to breathe. “She was waiting in her car, and she pulled away from the curb when she saw me. I thought she was going to hit me, so I ran. I didn’t see.” I swallowed hard. “I didn’t see the other car. It was my fault.”
I was glad to finally be up and off the street, even though I was lying on a stiff board. I know they tried to be careful but I was still jostled a bit when they rolled me into the ambulance.
The cameras flashed repeatedly off the glass in the ambulance. Great, more embarrassing publicity - just what Ryan needs!
I felt a needle stick me in the arm, but the discomfort was minimal. Needles, tape, questions, shoes removed… my head swirled.
The sirens blazed to life and we were finally on our way to the hospital. About time!
I sighed, relieved we were moving. My eyes glanced over at the paramedic; he had menacing silver scissors in his hand. No sooner did the ambulance get going, he stuck the scissors into the pants leg of my jeans and started cutting.
“What are you doing?” I panicked as he cut my jeans, the same jeans I was wearing the first day I met Ryan.
“Stay calm, Miss Mitchell. I need to assess the level of your injuries.”
I closed my eyes while he cut up the front of both legs of my jeans, all the way to my waist. Next he cut through the layers of my shirts, snipping my white lace bra open between my breasts. He cut my underwear and pushed the tattered, wet remains of my clothing out of his way, exposing my naked body. I felt like I was being raped and there was nothing I could do about it.
All my clothes were cut, one by one, piece by piece, from my body. Tears formed and dripped out of the corners of my eyes.
He started running his hands from the top of my head down every part of my body and I shivered with fear. He squeezed my arms, stopping at my left wrist when I cried out. Damn, it’s definitely re-broken.
He was listening with his stethoscope and when he ran his hands over my ribs the pain it generated made me moan out in agony. He squeezed my legs; I was glad that it didn’t cause any major pain. I could feel every touch of his warm hands. I was naked, fully exposed, and freezing.
He hooked me up with that annoying oxygen thing that fits in your nostrils. Although it was uncomfortable, it actually helped.
“I’m freezing.” My teeth chattered. I was glad when he finally covered me with a nice, thick blanket.
“Unit 1784 inbound, ten to twelve minute ETA…”
“Is the driver okay?” I asked when he finished talking on the radio.
“Let’s just worry about you right now,” he flatly replied.
“What did I hit?” I murmured.
“It was an SUV ma’am,” he answered.
“I remember silver. Was it silver colored?” My eyes squinted, trying to remember the details.
“Yes, it was.” He nodded.
I sighed, relieved that I could remember.
The paramedic and his partner wheeled me through the glass doors of the emergency room where I was immediately rolled into a curtained room. Nurses and doctors descended like flies and I was moved from the stretcher to the hospital gurney.
I spent the next five hours being poked, prodded, X-rayed, and MRI’d. I had a new IV stuck in the top of my right hand and a clip to measure something was snapped on my finger. Everything was taped securely in place. I had a rectal exam, a vaginal exam, was stuck repeatedly with needles, and they took my blood pressure with that stupid automatic machine a thousand times.
During the moments that I wasn’t being poked or quizzed, I allowed myself to cry. I felt so alone; I just wanted to see Ryan. I needed him to hold me.