Fight or Flight by Jamie Canosa Page B

time is it?”
    “A little after noon. You’ve been out for about four hours, but the meds will do that to you. Just try to relax, Emerson. You have a badly sprained ankle, and some pretty nasty road rash. Like I said, you took quite a hit and your right side . . . It’s a miracle there isn’t more damage . . . No broken ribs . . . Called the police.”
    The nurse kept talking but only bits and pieces were reaching Em. She was stuck on the part where the woman in the puppy dog scrubs had called her Emerson. Had known her name.
    “How?” The nurse cut off and Em realized she’d just interrupted. “How did you know my name?”
    “Oh, well it was on your ID. The doctors found it in your back pocket when they brought you in. It’s standard procedure to check an unconscious patient’s pockets for identification when they’re brought in. Don’t worry, sweetie, your clothes were saved for you, though they’re pretty torn up. We’ve already contracted your father. He’s on his way. I’m sure he can bring you something else to wear when you’re ready to go home.”
    Ready to go home? Try never. And where the heck had they gotten her ID from? She’d thrown that away with her wallet as soon as she’d stepped off of the . . . Oh no, the train. The ticket . She’d needed her ID for the ticket and when her bag dumped all over the floor, she’d shoved it in the back pocket of her jeans. The jeans she’d put on that morning . No. No. No! Not now. Not like this. They hadn’t called her father. Her father was dead. They’d called him .
    “When did you call him?”
    “Well, right after you arrived, I assume. Around . . .” she flipped through the chart at the end of Em’s bed, “eight-thirty.”
    Four hours. He’d known where she was for almost four hour already. He wouldn’t have waited, either. She knew for a fact that he was on his way there the minute he hung up the phone. Groaning, Em buried her face in the pillow. He’d be there any time now. Why couldn’t the car have just killed her? It would have been better that way. She couldn’t face him again. She couldn’t.
    “Don’t worry, Emerson, I’ll bring in some more pain medicine soon. This batch is starting to wear off.”
    Em didn’t listen. Didn’t care. Didn’t even notice when the nurse left the room. She was too busy trying to figure out how the heck she was going to get out of there. As soon as the door clicked shut, Em pushed herself up to sitting until a nausea inducing bout of pain lanced through her, forcing her back down on the bed.
    She didn’t have time for this. She needed to stop being such a coward, and suck it up. Gritting her teeth, she tried again. This time she got halfway up before she was stopped. Not by pain, but by the slight creak of the door opening. Her heart stopped beating. Her lungs stopped breathing. Her entire body froze. Until Jay stepped into the room.  The relief crashing over her, drove her back down onto the mattress for a second time.
    “Jesus, Em.” Jay was at her side in an instant. “Are you all right?”
    She shook her head no, still shaking too hard to speak.
    “What’s wrong?”
    “My name.”
    “What?”
    “They know my name. They know who I am.” Hysterics were making her nearly indecipherable but there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about.
    “Okay. Calm down. Where are you hurt, Em?”
    “It’s not okay! They know who I am, Jay.”
    “I got that, but—”
    “They called him.” She wanted to scream it so that Jay would understand just how bad the situation was, but she could barely manage more than a whisper.
    “Called who , Em?”
    She looked him right in the eye, so there would be no mistaking her answer. “ Him .”
    Jay stood there shaking his head, looking like she’d just punched a hole through his chest. He knew. She wasn’t sure exactly when he’d figured it out, just that he had somewhere along the way. All she’d just done was verify it.
    “Shit, Em.” He