I woke up to the sounds of “code blue.” I know it wasn’t for me, because I wasn’t dead. I could feel the I.V. in my arm. My scalp was itching like crazy, but I couldn’t scratch it. I felt dirty. The urge to take a shower was impossible. My body felt stiff and I also felt nauseous. I needed to have my medications. Death wasn’t sounding so bad right about now.
Somebody walked into my room. My eyes were closed. My common senses told me that I was in a hospital. Most likely, the emergency room. I still wasn’t ready to open my eyes. I tried to relax while I was lying down, but I heard Rihanna screaming “umbrella-ella-ella-ella.”
“I am getting really tired of hearing that stupid song,” I heard somebody say. Nasty attitude. I must be in a ghetto hospital. She walked around and I heard a curtain open then close.
I seep my eyes open and looked at my wrist. If I was a religious fanatic, I would have thought I saw a cross. The red T confirmed where I was. I exhaled as I open my eyes. They had my name. Hopefully, what happened to me won’t go any further than this hospital. Rihanna started singing again. I looked to my left and I saw my black Coach purse. I whispered, “He didn’t take it.”
“I see that you are up,” the doctor rushed in. He scared the hell out of me.
The nurse was right behind him, “I knew she was up.” That was the voice I heard earlier. The doctor looked at her disgustingly. Looks like somebody is going to get reported to HawthoRNe. He ignored her and asked me a few questions, but one question caught my attention. He asked me if I was comfortable being interviewed by a male detective. I told him that I wasn’t. I really didn’t care, I just wanted see what he would do. He asked, “Is there somebody that I would need to call and let them know that you are here?”
I shook my head.
The doctor left me in the room with Nurse “McNasty” to check on the status of my lab results. She had to be about 50-years old, but she could be older than that. She was short and somewhat overnight which is the total opposite of me. I have a runner’s shape with a height of a five-six. She had a stupid smirk on her face while she was doing some things in the room. When she was finished with those, she turned her attention to me. She looked at me in a strange way. I didn’t know why, until I looked to see where that glance changed her facial expression. My black dress was ripped on the side. I had a black t-shirt on that wasn’t mine. She was probably thought that I am a prostitute. Guess again.
The doctor came back with a short dark-skinned woman. She looked like she was happy to get off the streets. She said her name, but once again, I wasn’t paying attention. I didn’t want to learn anybody’s name tonight. I did see her take out her note pad. I knew that the interrogation was going to start.
She said, “Do you remember what your attacker looked like?”
“No,” I said quickly.
"Miss.....” she couldn’t pronounce my last name. Nobody really can.
I put my hand to stop her,“Ashanti, please.”
She gave in, “Yes, Ms. Ashanti.”
I rolled my eyes, because I am only 21-years-old. I know she had to be older than me.
She continued, “We received an anonymous call at 12:33am.You were found unconscious near 66th Ave and Old York Road. You know, near the Pizza Hut on Broad Street and your purse was found fifty feet from you.” That wasn’t too far from where I lived. I wondered who found me. My cell started singing again. Now it is starting to irritate me. The nurse sucked her teeth then hissed. It was time for me to make my exit out of here. I started to get up and grabbed my things. The detective wasn’t done with me, “Who is that calling you?”
I didn’t appreciate her asking me, but I answered, “Nobody important.”
Nurse McNasty felt the need to add her two cents, “they must be important because they have been calling every minute since you got here.”
“Is that true, because that person could help us both out.”
“I don’t know,” I said tiredly. My body began to ache again, so I grabbed my purse to look for my medications. So far, nothing was missing, including my wallet. I see that my pillbox was still intact. I didn’t see a cup, so I removed the lid off of the pitcher and swallowed my pills with the water. I hope I took the right ones.
She keep on asking me more questions, “Are you sure don’t want to file a report?”
“No,” I took my makeup kit from my purse. I was startled at what I saw in my mirror.
“Are you sure you don’t know anybody else you can contact?”
I shook my head to every question she asked. I was padding on my face to cover up the scratches.
“Parent?”
Foster child.
“Brother?”
Dead.
“Sister?”
Out of town
“Boyfriend?”
I snapped my compact makeup kit and looked at her, “Look…the doctor already asked me and I said ‘no.’ I don’t know why you keep on digging and digging. Don’t y’all think I’ve gone through enough tonight? I am tired… I am tired of all of this. Like you said, you found me unconscious near the Oak Lane Diner. My dressed was ripped. What does that spell out to you? Here’s a hint: rhymes with tape. I don’t need the test results to know that. I know my body and it has been violated.” My cell broke the silence in the room. I didn’t even take it out. I know exactly who it is. I finished, “I don’t want to remember this night”
The doctor turned to the detective, “She can be discharged.” Excellent, just what I wanted to hear.
The doctor and the nurse left the room to attend to somebody else who needed their help. Thank the Lord. I thought I was in the clear until I saw the detective approach me. “Ms. Ashanti, this is my card. If you ever change your mind… listen, I know women are usually silent about this, but think it through. We don’t want this to happen to anybody else. If we have a psycho on our hands then we need to catch him. ”
I grabbed her card and throw it in my purse without looking up at her. She leaned closer in my left ear and said, “By the way, I didn’t say Oak Lane Diner, I said Pizza Hut.” That’s when our eyes met. She knows that there is something that I am not giving up. I wasn’t afraid until now. I excused myself.
When I got out, I walked past Nurse McNasty who was being reprimanded by the head nurse, like I said it would happen. That’s what she gets.
I walked out of the hospital, but before I made it out, I heard Rihanna for the last time. When I got outside, I took the cell out of my purse, I flipped it open, snapped it backwards in half, and threw it in a nearby trashcan. The ring tone was assigned to my husband.
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