ch.2

Maya's pov

Tears that I had been holding in stream down my face. “Please,” I beg, as he turns me around.

“Are you deaf?” he asks. “I said don't move.”

“I know… I know I just.”

“I hate being disrespected,” he says, his voice low but controlled.

“I'm sorry I'm just scared,” I cry.

“Does it look like I care?” He asks, so close I can smell the mint on his breath.

“No.”

I shake my head and his hand, tight and firm presses on my jaw. His skin is hard, like someone that does manual labor, the callouses scraping against my skin.

“Then why did you think to open this pretty mouth of yours to tell me that you're scared?”

He pushes me to the door hard and I wince in pain. “Do you want to die?” he asks, running the butt of his gun on my stomach. The cold surface has me shivering. I try to shake my head, but he presses harder, till the metallic taste of blood fills my mouth.

“I'm going to forgive you since you saved my brother, but if you ever disrespect me like that again I will take you to my basement, chop you into pieces and feed you to my gators.”

The words have bile rising up my throat. “I won't.”

He snickers just as in time as the men come out holding Holden who had regained consciousness but still looked weak. “Go check the perimeter,” he orders one of the men. I move from the door. The three of them barely acknowledge my presence as they wait for their friend to return.

“Thank you,” Holden murmurs. I look away and move further away from them.

“Clear,” the guy who had left said.

“You guys go ahead, there's something I need to tell our little friend here.”

“Are you sure boss you don't want me to do it?” The one who had left asked. My heart drops to my stomach.

The leader throws him a withering look as he nods and leaves. “Just let her live, she saved me, please,” Holden says. Holden is dragged out the door. My knees buckle, and I collapse to the floor.

“Please I'm begging you, my family is depending on me,” I cry, touching his feet.

He crouches to my knelt position, his gaze unyielding. “What's your name?” He asks.

“Ma…Maya.”

“I want your full name.”

“Maya Isabel Sanchez,” I answer, my lower lip shaking.

“Don't worry Maya, I'm not going to kill you not just yet,” he says, tilting my head to look at him. “I'm going to walk out this door and if you ever tell anybody what happened here I'm going to butcher everybody you've ever known including you.”

He runs his thumb across my lip. “You understand?”

I nod, fighting against the tears. He leaves, and I remain on the floor barely grasping what just happened. I don't move until I hear the blare of the alarm, reminding me it's time to go to work. The sun trickles from the window to the polished floor casting golden shadows on it. I move from the ground, my limbs feeling numb. As always there is no hot water, I fight the urge to cry as I step into the cracked bathtub.

The cold water feels like needles as it cascades down my body, but I don't care. I lather my body with soap scrubbing hard until my skin burns, hoping I can erase everything from last night. I get into my usual outfit consisting of washed away jeans and turtlenecks. I grab my bag refusing to look at the house and walk out.

The bustling city of LA hums with chaos, the honking cars and chatter of strangers drowning out my thoughts as I weave through the crowd. Everyone looks so normal, holding their usual cup of coffee and running against the traffic like the dynamics of their lives can't change in an instant.

The sign of Mercy Grace Hospital stands in bold blue colors at the entrance. The usual seriousness of the hospital is replaced by people writhing in pain. I move to the locker room changing into my scrubs barely saying a word to anyone.

“Where have you been?” Maggie asks, looking at her pager.

“Uh, home.”

“I tried calling and paging you,” she yells, looking at me. Her blonde hair is tied into a messy bun, her tired blue eyes boring holes into my face. “Oh, sorry I turned off my phone.”

“You're a first-year resident you do not get to turn off your phone,” she yells, the sound making my head throb. I need a painkiller.

“I'm sorry.”

“I don't care if you're sorry Sanchez,” she spits.

“Okay I get it,” I snapped back, drawing the attention of some nurses.

She tilts her head back, her mouth slightly open. “Oh, you have some nerve after you failed to show up here last night and now you're talking back. You're at the pit.”

“Maggie,” I call.

“Don't even dare.”

I huff and take my coat. I shouldn't be wasting time here I should be learning not spending my time treating —

All the beds in the ER are full, people with severed limbs and gunshot wounds fill the beds. “Jenny, what happened?” I ask, looking at the number of patients.

Her eyes widen when she sees me. “Where were you? Did you see Maggie, she is going to kill you?”

“I already did, now what happened?”

“There was a shootout in your neighborhood and people got caught in the crossfire,” she answers, bandaging an arm.

Oh God! The people that caused this were in my house, and I saved one of them.

“Did you hear anything?” She asks. I suck in a sharp breath, the man's face clouding my vision.

“No, you know how I'm such a heavy sleeper,” I mumbled, letting out a dry laugh.

She looks at me before moving to the next patient. Maggie gives me a stink eye and I grab a patient's chart. A little girl cries holding her leg and guilt gnaws at me. I probably saved the man that did this to her.

—

“Are you sure you don't want to move in with me?” Jenny asks, looking at the disheveled building where I live.

“No, I'm fine,” I mumble, trying to convince myself more than her.

She gives me a lopsided smile and tells me goodnight. I alight her car walking to the house every step heavier than the last. By the time I had made it to my door, my chest was tight. My feet loose beneath me when I find the door open. Oh God.

What if it's the police and they have found the body? No it can't be. There would be yellow tape and cars parked outside.

I peek through the door and the silhouette of a man sits on the couch, the same musky cologne from last night fills my apartment. My legs wobble and when I'm about to leave he speaks. “I've already seen you, Maya Sanchez.”