CHAPTER 5

At the hospital, Kelvin opened his eyes. He tried to move, but his body felt unbearably heavy, wracked with a pain that seemed endless.

Memory returned in pieces. The courtroom. Patra’s red dress. The police. The road.

Then he turned his head, a woman sat in the chair beside his bed. She was elegant. Her eyes were the color of dark honey, and they filled with an immediate relief that startled him.

“You’re awake,” she breathed, leaning forward. “Thank God. Don’t try to speak. The tube is out, but your throat will be raw.”

Kelvin’s lips were cracked. He managed a whisper. “Who…?”

“My name is Clarita. Clarita Howells.”  she was still slightly trembled. “I’m the one who.. who hit you with my car.”

Then he remembered the impact, and the horn. She was the driver. He expected anger, rage to flood him, but all he found was a dull curiosity. Why was she here, why did she look at him with such personal concern? How long had he been unconscious? Where were Patra and Benita? Had they finally forgotten him, even at the point of death?

“I’ve been here for a week,” she said, answering the question he hadn’t voiced. “The doctors.. they said you were gone. For a few minutes, you were gone. Then you came back.”

“I thought I’d killed you. I will never forget that feeling. Never.”

Kelvin looked away. He felt for her, truly. He couldn’t bring himself to blame her. The accident.. the car.. it was only the final piece added to the weight of pain he had already been carrying.

“Your surgery was a success,” Clarita continued. “No major motor deficits detected so far. You are very, very lucky.”

Lucky. The word was a mockery because he was homeless, penniless, and childless. He closed his eyes.

“I have taken care of everything,” she said. “All medical bills. The best specialists. A private room. You will want for nothing in your recovery.”

He opened his eyes again, turning to study her. He realized that he was now the central tragedy of her life. His ruin had become her burden.

“Why?” he croaked.

“Because it is my fault.”

“Accident,” he managed.

“A preventable one,” she insisted. “My negligence. My responsibility. And so, you are now my responsibility.” She leaned forward. “They told me you had no next of kin listed. No emergency contact. The police.. they found your identification. They know about the.. the recent legal proceedings.”

He felt ashamed. So she knew. She knew he was a man so worthless his own wife had him ejected.

“I was not that worthless,” he murmured, as if fighting for the last piece of himself. “I just wanted to give my wife and my son everything. Everything I could. But my wife and her mother wanted more than I could ever provide.”

His eyes burned, filling, and he was about to continue when a nurse walked in.

She was bright, and efficient. she checked his vitals and adjusted the IV.

“Welcome back, Mr. Brown. You gave us quite a scare. This woman here,” she nodded to Clarita with a smile, “she hasn’t left your side. Fierce guardian angel you’ve got.”

Clarita looked away, uncomfortable with the praise.

The nurse left.

“They took my house… my son… and they almost took my life. I was not worthless, Clarita,” he said.

Clarita touched him gently. “I believe you, Kelvin. Please don’t say too much. You need your strength to recover fully. Everything will be fine,” she assured him softly.

“I need to get better,” he whispered.

“And you will,” Clarita stated. “But not today. Today, you rest. Your body has been to war. You must let it heal.”

He nodded. His mind filled with thoughts of vengeance!

***

Across the city, 

Patra still worried about Dolph's text - "Be here tomorrow", and her mother's words echoed. "Don't you dare annoy him."

Her body still ached. The memory of the ropes, the slap, the degrading humiliation irritated her. 

She walked into the living room. Benita was on the phone, laughing with a real estate agent. “Yes, we are very motivated sellers. All cash offers considered immediately.”

Patra stood there. “Mom.”

Benita waved a dismissive hand, finishing her call. “What now?”

“I just want to tell you that I can’t go back to Dolph,” Patra said, and she was not ready to go back.

Benita’s face hardened. “What did you say?”

“I said I can’t. He’s a monster, Mom. He hurt me. I've been having dark feelings about him. He's evil. I will die in his bed if I don't stop now before it is too late.”

Benita slapped her. Very hard!

“You ungrateful girl!” Benita seethed, her composure shattered. “Do you have any idea what I have sacrificed for you? Any idea? I molded you! I got you out of that pathetic marriage to that failure! I am securing your future, and you stand here whining about a little roughness? Men of power are not gentle! You take it, and you thank him for it!”

It was now that Patra understood, her mother cared only about money and comfort, not her life or her safety.

“You’re wrong,” Patra breathed, touching her stinging cheek. “This isn’t love. This is trafficking. Slavery. You’re my mother… you should know me. You should understand me.”

“And I know what’s best!” Benita shouted, spittle flying. “Now listen to me. You will go to Dolph. You will be whatever he wants. You will make him propose. Or so help me God, Patra, you’ll be out on the street. This house is already sold, and the money is in my account. $127,000. And you will have nothing. Nothing. Just like that your worthless Kelvin. Is that what you want? To be nothing?”

The threat was absolute.

“Fine,” she said, her voice devoid of all emotion.

Benita mistook the surrender for obedience. “Good girl. Now, go get ready. Wear a sexy dress. The one he’ll like.”

Patra walked back to her room, stood in the middle of the room, her son, Mike, peeked in. “Mommy? Are you okay?”

She knelt, pulling him into a tight hug. “I love you, Mikey. No matter what happens, remember that Mommy loves you.”

“I love you too,” he mumbled into her shoulder, confused by the intensity.

She released him, wearing a careful face. “Go watch TV, baby. Mommy has to go out.”

She waited until he was gone. Then, she opened her closet. She pulled out a small makeup case. She opened it, picked a pair of scissors. Sharp, pointed, about four inches long.

She wasn’t going back to be a victim. She was going back armed.

If Dolph thought she was just a toy to be used and broken, he was about to learn how wrong he was.

She slipped the scissors into the inner zip pocket of her purse.