"Room service!" I heard a muffled call from the other side of the door. I lifted my head up from the goose-down pillows and wiped the drool from my chin.
"Leave it!" I called out hoarsely.
"Will do." Was the response and I heard the faint clinking of China dishes. I rolled over on my back, fighting to get loose from the covers. The TV was still on and I didn't even remember falling asleep. Once I was untangled from the bed sheets I sat up and sighed. I didn't want to be up. All the thoughts I was running from were spilling back into my mind at a rapid pace. The only way I could escape them was by sleeping. My rumbling stomach begged to differ, so I made my way to the room door and cracked it open. There was a small cart that held a covered tray, an ice bucket with champagne and freshly squeezed orange juice. I wheeled the car into my room and flipped the "Do Not Disturb" sign before closing the door. I un-muted the TV and the reality show 'Basketball Wives' came to life. I watched as they argued with each other and laughed to myself. At least I wasn't the only person with problems. I pulled the cover off the tray and my plate was loaded with Belgian waffles, ripe fruit, hash browns and scrambled eggs. I shook some salt and pepper over my eggs and began to eat. To my surprise I cleaned the plate in a matter of minutes. I didn't even wait for my food to settle before I popped open the champagne and mixed it with the orange juice in a flute; more champagne than O.J. After a few glasses I was feeling better. I reached over to the night stand to pick up my pipe. I had only hit it four times last night and just like the bud tender said, 'guaranteed nap'. I took a few pulls and waited for my high to settle in again. I pulled the champagne bottle out the ice bucket and chugged it down. I was trying to put myself back to sleep. I was feeling sluggish, so I laid back down and my head began to spin. I knew I was faded but that's what I wanted. This feeling made me forget my reality, it made me not care about the shit I had went through, I wasn't worried about Anthony or the outcome of his case, my mind was at peace and I needed to feel like this forever. I tossed and turned for a few moments before I finally found a comfortable position and let my intoxication take me back into the dream world.
***********************************************************************************************
I was walking towards the hospital doors rapidly. They had just called me because something went wrong during my surgery, they wanted to see me. As soon as I made it through the walkway I ran smack dab into someone.
"My ba-" I started but my tongue caught in my throat. Anthony was staring at me with a sinister grin on his face "What the fuck?" I exclaimed, "You're supposed to be in jail!"
"They overturned my no bail hold. I'm out on bond, not that you would care." He was staring down on me like he wanted to break my neck, I could feel my bladder weaken and I suddenly had to urinate. "What's wrong baby? You look like you've seen a ghost." He faked concern as he snaked his arm around my shoulder. I tried to pull away, but he squeezed me in place. My eyes searched for security but couldn't locate anyone.
"Get off me mutha fucka." I growled under my breath and snatched away from his grip, marching to the receptionist desk so I could have them call security. I figured he wouldn't get too out of hand in a public place. I had only took two steps before I could feel my hair being yanked
"Hey!" I screamed out expecting someone to look at us but nobody seemed to pay attention. He slammed me onto the cold tile by my hair and wrapped his hands around my neck
"Somebody help me!" I tried to scream but his tight grip cut me off. I choked on my own spit as he pushed one knee on my chest, forcing his body weight on me. My eyes darted around the waiting area; I couldn't believe not one person had turned our way! I tried to scream again but he just squeezed harder, the compression on my heart was fucking me over, I could feel my lungs losing oxygen and I started to panic. I tried to squirm from underneath him, but I didn't have the strength. I looked up at him, he was grinning cynically with sweat forming on his forehead
"You'll never get away from me bitch. I'll kill you before I let you go. I'll fuckin' kill you!" he whispered evilly, his saliva splattered on my face and I knew I was going to die, my lungs were empty and just when they felt like they were about to explode I jumped out my sleep. I was gasping and sputtering for air. I heaved and gulped trying to catch my breath as the tears streamed down my cheeks. It took me a few minutes to calm down and regain normal breathing control.
"It's OK Lina, it was just a dream. It was just a dream. It was just a dream." I repeated to myself trying to control my shaking hands. How long were these fuckin' nightmares going to last?! I sat in silence scared to even attempt to go back to sleep. This nigga was locked up in jail and somehow he was still getting to me. I touched my neck, expecting to feel bruises; the dream had played out so realistically I thought I was really dying. Anthony was in police custody, in a tiny ass cell nowhere near me, yet I still feared him. It pissed me off that he had broken me down like this. I hated that nigga. After I was calmed down I slid out the bed, tilted over to the side and lost my footing.
"Pft." I laughed, I still felt a little drunk. I don't know how anyone functioned under the influence, my body felt like jelly. I stumbled to the restroom and splashed my face with cold water. I looked into the mirror and didn't even recognize my own reflection. My honey colored skin had lost its glow, the rings under my eyes would make a raccoon jealous and my lips were cracked like old asphalt. I eyed my nappy bun that was on top of my head, combing that would be a losing battle. I looked like all my life I had to fight, but I made no attempt to freshen up or make myself over; I just didn't give a fuck. My ringtone blared in the quiet room and I jumped out of my trance. I listened until the sound stopped, then I heard the voicemail alert. Who the fuck was leaving me a voicemail? I strolled back into the room to grab my phone, sure enough I had one new visual voicemail. I didn't recognize the number so I played the message, it was a female.
"Good afternoon my name is Adrienne Montgomery. I'm calling from Montgomery Funeral Homes, to speak with Lina Watson about the cremation of her child. Please call me back so we can meet and discuss the process, we will need to have this done soon, as the body can not stay on ice forever. When you come in please bring in a valid form of ID and the death certificate the hospital provided you with. My contact number is 555-7896, I will be awaiting your call. Have a blessed day."
I replayed the message twice, staring into space as the word 'cremation' echoed in my head. I don't know why I was having such a hard time accepting it. It had been almost three days, I knew this was coming; so why was I trying to avoid it? Just to think, I would never feel her tiny fingers gripping my skin, never hear her laugh and play, no sweet baby smell, no drooly kisses...I was left with nothing but the desire to have my daughter. I snatched my capsule of weed off the dresser and stuck it into my purse. I didn't bother freshening up, I didn't care how I looked or smelled. I took the elevator down to the lobby and sloppily walked through the area with my purse hanging off my shoulder.
"Good day." the doorman greeted me when I stepped out, but I waved him off and made my way to the parking garage. I repeatedly checked over my shoulder because I could've sworn I heard footsteps, of course there was no one behind me.
"Chill the fuck out." I mumbled to myself, I was going to go crazy if I kept imagining things that weren't there. I made it to my car and hopped in the driver seat. I turned the key in the ignition but I didn't put it in gear. I really wasn't ready to go the morgue. After about ten minutes, I finally picked up my phone and opened my Google maps.
"Mont-Montgomery Funeral Homes." I stammered loudly waiting for the route to pop up. I was only six minutes away from it, six minutes away from burning my child into ashes and taking her with me in a box. I wanted to scream and cry, but I pushed those emotions down. I was going to have to be strong for this one, not sad. My phone started ringing and Gray's name flashed across my screen. I listened to the melody before it sent him to my voicemail. I know he was checking on me, but I wasn't in the mood to be bothered. My phone pinged, and my text message icon popped up
Gray: Don't shut me out Lina. Call me if you need anything.
I cleared my screen and clicked back on the maps, then I put my car in reverse. When I pulled into the morgue parking lot there was only one other car parked. I shakily took the key out the ignition then got out the car. As I got closer to the front door my legs got weaker and my stomach started to turn. My baby was on ice in this mutha fucka, laying lifelessly with a toe tag. I was hurting and I wasn't prepared to deal with this! I damn near turned around, but I took two deep breaths and pushed the doors open instead.
YOU ARE READING
Hidden Wounds
General FictionLina was young and tender when she ran into Anthony Smith. He was everything she was looking for in a man; older, paid and he was the perfect gentleman...or so it seemed. She soon finds out that everything that glitters aint gold. In a whirlwind of...
