Already Gone - By John Rector Page 0,1

the ground by my feet, ignoring me. A moment later, the one with the bolt cutters bends down and pushes my legs aside. When he stands, he’s holding my severed finger by the tip.

The streetlight reflects clean and gold off the wedding ring just below the knuckle.

I want to stand. I want to tell them not to take my ring, but I can’t find the words. I try to sit up, but the pain in my ribs pushes me back.

I don’t have the strength to scream.

I stay on the ground and listen to the breath rattle in my chest. I have to cough. I try my best to hold it in, but I can’t, and this time I do scream.

The big guy bends down and reaches for my hand.

I don’t even try to fight.

He takes the white towel he was using and presses it against the spot where my finger used to be, then he takes my other hand and holds it against the towel.

“Tight,” he says.

My left hand is warm and wet. I pull it in and squeeze it to my chest. The towel is red with blood.

The big guy stands and says something to the man with the bolt cutters. The man nods and starts walking across the parking lot.

The big guy watches him go, then looks down at me and says, “Nothing personal, okay?”

The accent is thick, and I can’t place it.

“Fuck you,” I say.

It isn’t much, but it’s all I have.

The big guy smiles, turns, and is gone.

I stay on the ground, unable to move, staring up at the pale yellow light. I think about Diane and about the wedding ring I’ve worn for the past month, the one I’ll probably never see again.

All at once, I feel like crying.

I’m not sure why.

I put up a good fight.

– 2 –

“The good news is that it’s a clean cut. You probably won’t need surgery.”

This is good news.

Anything is good news when you’re on morphine.

My hand is resting on a silver suture tray and covered in a cocoon of white gauze that makes my arm look like an oversized Q-tip. The doctor examines the bandage, then puts a hand on my shoulder and says, “You’re not a piano player, are you?”

I ignore him and turn toward the cop sitting on the red plastic chair next to the bed. He’s talking to Diane, asking her if she knows of anyone who might want to hurt me. He wants to know if I have any enemies.

Diane is staring at the walls, the floor, her hands, anywhere but at him. There are tears on her cheeks, and when she speaks her voice is soft.

“No one,” she says. “Of course not.”

The cop looks at me. “How about you? Anyone out there holding a grudge?”

“A grudge?” Diane looks from me to the cop, then back. “Over what?”

The cop stares at me, waiting.

“No,” I say. “I don’t think so.”

The cop scribbles something in his notebook.

“What is he talking about?” Diane asks. “Does someone want to hurt you?”

“No.” I shake my head. “No one.”

I can tell Diane wants to say something else, but instead she just frowns and looks away.

Nobody says anything for a while. Finally, Diane straightens in her chair and says, “So, what’s the next step?” She reaches for my good hand, squeezes, then turns back to the cop. “How long before you find these people?”

The cop looks up, and to his credit he doesn’t smile, but I can see it in his eyes.

He tells her once the report is filed, it’ll be assigned to a detective who will go over the details of the case, talk to witnesses, run any descriptions through the database. He tells her they’ll follow every lead to make sure the two men are caught.

If this were any other time, I’d laugh.

The cop will file a report. A detective might even look at the report, but that’s where it’ll stop. Random violence cases, especially the ones with no witnesses and no fatalities, are rarely solved.

I know this.

The cop knows this.

I think on some level Diane knows this, too, but we all go through the motions and play our roles. Who knows, maybe this will be the one time the system works.

Once the cop is gone, the doctor comes back with prescriptions for pain medication and antibiotics. He hands them to Diane and says, “Keep the hand clean and watch for infection. Make sure he takes the antibiotics. If you see anything strange, bring him in.”

Diane tells him she