I stumble along behind him as he leads me in another direction, past an empty guard station, and down a pitch-black staircase. At the bottom, he checks both ways before leading me along the back of the building.
I never noticed the shantytown behind it before. Thousands of tarps hang in a subdued array of colors, along with hundreds of tin shacks, forming a poverty-ridden community. It’s no wonder the car bombings have been staged out of here. It’s too hard to pinpoint from whom or where they came when surveying the possible hiding places.
Bruno whistles, low and slow, to get my attention. My head snaps forward, creeping behind him through some of the flimsy houses with corrugated metal roofs. It brings back memories of learning about third-world countries in school, except even they had it good compared to the desecration in the Hole.
The thick smell of fetid garbage and hollow, angry glares greet me as we pass through four to five huts. I can’t breathe. Their skeletal appearances shock me into silence and I put my right hand on Bruno for support.
After we pass through, we make our way back into the streets. My head injury begins to weigh on me, making me feel dizzy in the blistering heat. The sun beats down overhead and the slight breeze kicks dirt into our eyes.
Bruno slows for a moment and glances back at me. “You never saw those people before, have you?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“That’s where sinners go when they don’t have a job. All of them are starving to death.”
“I…I thought everyone had a job.”
“Nope. Once you outlive your usefulness, they find another body to take your place,” he whispers over his shoulder, keeping an eye out for danger.
The image of their emaciated bodies repulses me. How can anyone be so cruel? It just becomes one more thing to fuel my anger. With each step, I feel more and more determined to survive and maybe even conquer. The reminder of Wilson’s hands, his words, his cocky behavior… I won’t let him get the best of me. Then I stumble and fall to my hands and knees.
Bruno gently picks me up and throws me over his shoulder. He jogs to the hospital, doing his best to stay out of sight. When we arrive, he takes me in a side entrance, forcing me to walk on my own two heavy feet. No one even bothers looking at me because of how insanely busy it is.
He takes out a key and opens a window along the base of the building. He picks me up by my waist and I climb inside, dropping to the floor and almost crashing into an old rickety chair below. Bruno climbs in right after me. When my eyes adjust, I realize where I am. The basement.
I can’t move. “Bruno… I—can’t.”
“It’s the only way we can get in without being noticed. Don’t worry. I’ll be with you the whole time. I won’t leave your side.”
With resignation and fear, I step into the darkness. And then I freeze in panic.
He picks me up and carries me through the crowded basement and up eight floors while I keep my eyes closed. Bruno barely huffs as he steadies himself on the concrete steps. At the final door, he uses his key and unlocks it. I made it.
The light blinds us as the door swings open, and I squint at the massacre that’s become Sutton’s usually well-organized floor. Bodies lay everywhere, some alive and some dead. Nurses sprint from room to room with bloodied scrubs. I don’t think anyone even notices us as we wait outside Sutton’s door.
“What happened to her? Are you all right?” Sutton’s voice sounds concerned, yet frightened.
“She’s fine—needs some care, but overall okay. We need to talk,” Bruno says.
“Hurry, come in.” Sutton opens the door to his office and locks it behind him. He doesn’t even bother sitting as he smears his gory hands on his jacket and attempts to clean his glasses.
As Bruno explains what happened, Sutton doesn’t react. His face remains stoic. As he listens, I notice how exhausted he looks. His hair looks a shade whiter than it used to and his hands shake while holding his glasses. He examines the cut on my cheek, swabs it, and hands me a bottle of water to hold against it.
“I knew it would come to this,” he says. He steps away from me, looking pensive and edgy. Then he picks up the phone and next thing I know, Cole stands outside the door.
I brace myself for his reaction.
When Sutton lets him in, I can see pure rage on his face. He immediately wraps me into his arms as Bruno and Sutton watch. My lungs feel crushed and my heart rips apart with fear for him.
“Did he touch you?” Cole demands.
I can’t bear to look him in the eyes as he grimaces. He puts his hands on my shoulders and insists. “I swear to God if he hurt you—I’ll kill him!”
When I look into his face, he knows immediately that Wilson didn’t just hit me. He launches his fist into the wall, forcing a hole through it, and starts yelling.
I begin to cry. “Cole, I’m okay, really.”