A Fight For Love

“No, he was the patient, honey,” Cynthia said. Desiree’s heart rate was suddenly faster than she could think possible. Her gaze shifted from Cynthia to Rochelle and then back to Cynthia.

“Why? What’s wrong with him?” she asked, the fear imminent in her voice.

“Tony doesn’t really know but he suffered some kind of trauma. He was unconscious when they took him in,” Rochelle said. Desiree bolted out of bed and then grabbed her jacket. “Dee, relax,” Rochelle said trying to calm her down.

“Relax? That is virtually impossible. I can’t relax. All I can think of is Ericson in hospital and I need to know what the hell happened to him and I am going there right the fu*k now,” The words coming in a torrent as she pushed her way past the two. Rochelle and Cynthia ran after her trying to stop her, but it was as if the anxiety made her all so much stronger. When she got to the door, her heart was pounding so hard she thought she could hear it in her ears. Rochelle put her arm around her sister as she breathed heavily.

“We’ll go with you,” she said in a whisper.

The three took a cab down to Wentworth Hospital, a few blocks away from the apartment. When they got to the emergency room, Tony was already there, pacing up and down. Desiree went straight to the reception and asked about Taylor. After being given a room number, she ran up the stairs to the third floor where Taylor was and walked right in. He seemed so peaceful, so perfectly fine.

“He is sedated but he will be coming out of it soon. He suffered a pretty bad concussion but we can’t really know how serious until he wakes up,” the nurse said. “And the bruises,” she said as she pulled back the covers and lifted the hospital gown. Desiree gasped in horror when she noticed the bruises. These were no longer scrapes. He looked like a truck had knocked him over, backed up and ran over him once more. “Was he in an accident recently? Because he should not even be out of bed in this state,” the nurse said.

“He…he is a cage fighter,” Desiree said in a low voice.

“Well, if he keeps this up, he won’t be for much longer,” the nurse said disapprovingly before she left. Desiree looked at Taylor as a tear flowed down her cheek. She walked over to the bed and slowly traced her finger on his cheek. She lowered her head and planted a loving kiss on his forehead.

“I can’t do this Ericson. You are done. Your cage fighting days are behind you,” she said in a whisper. She gasped when she saw his finger twitch almost as if he’d heard her. She put her hand in his and looked at him. “If you can hear me, squeeze my hand,” she said even though she knew that it all sounded clichéd, but, to her surprise, her statement was rewarded by him weakly responding.