Apartment Life (Part Two)

Apartment Life (Part Two)

(continued from Part One)

He kept his eyes closed for a moment, hoping to hear something, just a little sound indicating that she was okay. When he opened them, slowly, he saw Trena, still lying there with one side of her head touching her shoulder and her arms and legs akimbo.

Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. No matter how hard he tried to suppress it, his imagination showed him Trena’s funeral, in the rain, his accusers surrounding the coffin, staring down at his aroused state.

His hand on the rail, Ronnie rushed down the stairs to her side. “Come on, wake up, wake up!” he shouted.

She didn’t stir.

He patted her face. “Please, Trena, you have to be okay. You have to.” His voice quivered as he grabbed her hand.

She grunted. A weak cough pushed her lips apart and puffed Ronnie’s hair from his forehead.

“That’s it. Breathe.”

He’d always heard not to move someone who might have a neck or spine injury.

“Look. You stay here and don’t move. I’m going for help.”

She squeezed his hand and opened her eyes, as if she wanted him to stay.

“I have to go find somebody. My apartment’s just one building over. I’ll be right back.”

He pushed her hand off his and gently stroked her hair before he ran out the door.

——-

She sat there, all alone, the pain radiating from her back and neck. Her head hurt the worst. She knew she had bumped it at least once going down, and although she was pretty sure that last whack had been a big one, she couldn’t remember it.

Her left knee hurt, too, like that time she and another girl collided in a fifth-grade soccer game.

Just a few minutes before, she had felt his excited body on hers, knew that in that passionate moment he had responded to her as a man would a woman. She had been thrilled by it, but just as quickly, rejected. She knew it was because of her age.

Then there was the current matter at hand.

Did he mean to push me down the stairs?

A spasm arched her back, causing her to lift her head, sending searing needles through her neck. She had never felt pain like that. Consciousness almost slipped away. Trying to remain still, she prayed that didn’t happen again. She wasn’t sure she could take another of those.

A cute, older guy likes me, and now this.

It was her first time sneaking out of her apartment. It’s just my luck.

She passed out.

——-

“Mom, Mom!” a voice called from downstairs.

Susan opened her eyes and rolled over to look at the clock. 11:30

“Mom!” Ronnie’s voice grew louder.

She reached for her glasses on her nightstand, but knocked over a glass of water instead. “Oh, dammit!”

Her bedroom door swung open and banged the wall.

“Mom, it’s Trena! I think she’s hurt bad!”

Susan finally found her glasses and put them on to look at her son.

“What? Who’s Trena?”

“A girl from across the parking lot. Look. Don’t get mad. Apartment 14B. Call 911! I gotta go check on her!” He ran from the room.

“Ronnie, wait!” she called after him.

“I can’t, Mom. I told her I would be right back!”

She heard him bound down the stairs and slam the front door. Still groggy, she grabbed the phone from her nightstand. It was wet from the water spill. She punched the button to get a dial tone. Nothing.

“Dammit!”

She grabbed her robe from the stationary bike’s handlebars and managed to push her hands through the arm holes as she rushed downstairs to the kitchen phone. On her way, she tried to make sense of what he had just told her. Don’t get mad? She couldn’t imagine what he might have done. He had always been such a good kid.

The phone on the kitchen wall worked fine. For the first time in her life, she dialed 911.

“Please state the nature of your emergency.”

“A girl has been hurt.”

(continue to Part Three)

4 Replies to “Apartment Life (Part Two)”

  1. A great start bud…. I can’t wait to see where this goes.

    How much of it do you already have in your mind?

  2. Dave – Thanks. I can’t wait, either.

    As far as your question goes — I didn’t know any of this post until I sat down at the computer to write it in the wee hours last night/this morning. In fact, in my mind up to that point, Ronnie was going to run out the door and try to hide the fact that he knew anything had happened.

    Now, I’m glad he didn’t.

  3. You don’t know where the story is going? Madness, I tell you!! Sheer madness!

    (Mind you, my favourite author writes that way too…)

    I was very glad that she wasn’t dead, and if she can feel her knee, her neck’s not (badly) broken. Rivetting!