Broken Birds, Part 1, Beth’s Agony

Part 1
Beth’s Agony

Light was fading as the sun fell beneath the rolling hills.

He couldn’t stop staring at her swollen face, her right eye closed, her eyelid purple, angry black bruises beneath both eyes from her broken nose, lips distended. Her fine blond hair framed a hideously disfigured face. Her fragile form remained still beneath the hospital blanket. The constant rhythm of the respirator was the only sound in the room.

A nurse arrived and hung another bag of fluids to be drained into her arm. The nurse fidgeted with the drip in girl’s left arm.

The nurse looked at the man. Sandy blond hair with a strong jaw now covered with stubble as he’d been at the hospital for nearly 36 hours. His eyes frightened her. They were gray with hate and anger. His hands clenched into a ball and then released – over and over again. He stood just less than six foot and appeared to be around 30 years old, though he was actually 39. Lines from years of outdoor activities were etched on his face. He was in excellent shape – not the kind of shape to parade for approval – real shape – tough, strong, lithe and quick. He had a military bearing, standing rigid at the foot of his daughter’s bed.

As she glanced over, the nurse thought, ‘a handsome man, but he scares the hell out of me. Those pricks that did this to that poor little girl better find a place to hide!’

A soft knock on the open door. One of the largest men the nurse had ever seen ducked his head in. He had hair so short he appeared to be bald. He had weathered, brutal features, but spoke with a softness that belied his violent potential.

“Michael…. Michael,” a bit louder.

The man standing looked over.

“There’s a woman here who wants to see Beth. She said she also wanted to see you. She’s the mother of one of those fraternity punks that did this to Beth.”

Michael’s lips quivered with rage, but a slender, dark haired woman with regal bearing squeezed into the room, looking briefly at Michael and then at the frail form that was so still. Her hands flew to her face and gasped, “Oh my God…Oh my God!” She stared for a long time. Tears came streaming down her face, marring her makeup. She staggered a little and reached out to the girl with her small hand.

She was strikingly beautiful with her dark glossy hair pulled back into a bun, an aquiline nose and small, pouting lips with a pale lipstick. But it was her large brown, almost oriental eyes that drew Michael as they registered pain and sorrow. Honest eyes. She was small, perhaps 5’2-3” without heels. He could not really see her body in her overcoat, but she did have delicate hands with buffed nails.

Her eyes widened as she looked to Michael and seemed to gain some composure back.

“I am so sorry.” Michael was accustomed to fakes and liars, but when he looked at her it was clear that this woman was sincere. Her eyes spoke of unimagined pain.

Time seemed to stop as she stared deep into the angry, gray eyes.

“I’m Rachael Walsh. My son, Thomas, was one of your daughter’s attackers.” Direct, but with incredible sympathy. “I am so, so sorry.”

He saw the waif on the bed move slightly and her left eye opened slowly. Michael ignored Rachael and swiftly went to his daughter’s side.

“Try to stay still, Baby. You’re gonna be OK. You can’t talk right now. They had to do a tracheotomy, but once the swelling in your throat goes down, they’ll close it up.”

She began to cry and her mouth opened in a silent scream as the memories came flooding back. She jerked upright as the pain registered. Rachael gasped and whispered again, “Oh my God…” The girl’s front teeth were gone! Her swollen, sutured lips had hid her bloody gums.

The clean white sheets darkened red from ripped stitches in her lower abdomen.

Michael spun with incredible speed. “Jake, get the nurse, NOW!” The giant launched himself using the doorframe for added acceleration. No hesitation. Clearly Michael was accustomed to giving orders and having them obeyed.

Within seconds the nurse appeared, slightly out of breath. The girl should be deep in a medicated sleep. She checked the settings on the pain med dispenser and realized she had forgotten to turn it on. She saw the blood and looked fearfully at Michael.

“I’ll get the doctor…” She fled the room, fled the hard, angry gray eyes that she could feel in the pit of her stomach.

As Michael sought to comfort his broken little girl, Rachael’s slid to the other side of her bed and took the girl’s other hand in hers. Between the two adults holding her hands as they clenched as wave after wave of pain ripped through her. Both adults stroked her cheek, trying to drain the pain. She seemed to calm, but continued to whimper silently in agony.

The doctor arrived with almost as much haste as the nurse and shooed Rachael and Thomas out.

As the nurse swung the overhead curtain in place, Michael heard, “Damn it.” The doctor looked at the pain dispenser. It was off! “Did you forget to turn on her pain meds?”

“I didn’t expect her to wake up so soon. I’m sorry….”

He held up his hand to shut her up. “Get the operating room ready again. She’s bleeding internally again.”

The nurse ran past Michael but felt those gray eyes boring into her.

Another nurse, a large black woman came over and gently took Michael, Rachael and Jake to the waiting room.

Rachael sat in a single chair while Jake took a loveseat that seemed to groan beneath him. He was not fat. Indeed, he looked like an older athlete, still capable and determined to hold off time. He was just huge!

Michael just stood at the window and stared out into the night.

After a time, Rachael reluctantly rose and approached him. “Mr. Shannon, I am so sorry.” She reached and touched his arm, feeling the steel of the muscle and the heat of his fury. “I will do anything to help. I’ve contacted the best doctors and they will be available for Beth…Thomas’s trust will pay for everything. ”

He turned at the mention of his daughter. She saw raw, burning hatred in those gray eyes and realized her son had hurt the wrong little girl.

“Your son was the one responsible for her smile. He used pliers to rip out her teeth so he could shove his dick down her throat.” The voice was soft, but the intent was clear. He wanted her to feel Beth’s pain…and his.

In a whisper, “I know.” Her head drooped in shame.

“Rachael. You should know that I’m a lawyer. And that broken little girl is all I have in this world that means anything to me. I know you have money. All the parents do. You might want to ask around about me. I am not going to back off because he’s your son, but thank you for helping Beth…”

She had checked. Many of the lawyers she and her family used were haughtily dismissive as Michael had graduated from a night school, but she had detected a grudging respect. The judges she spoke with were overwhelming in their praise. Tough. Honest. Relentless. They had nicknamed him, “the Terminator.” His partner, Peter Gardiner, was renowned among real trial lawyers.

She looked at her watch and realized it was after midnight. “Please let me know how she is…. I have to go. I’ll be back early in the morning.” She slowly walked to her car, her thoughts of Michael’s steel arm and frightening eyes.

After she left, Michael turned back to stare into the night. Gradually the night turned to a wet Monday morning, the skies weeping gentle rain. A fitting mood for the terror coursing through him.

There were now four men in the room.

Jake Courson had arrived first. The old “God” from the team, the man who carried and fired the 40 pound Garrett .50 caliber rifle that had kept his teammates safe from afar.

Matt Smith was a small man with brown hair, quick, blue eyes and an engaging smile.