Currently, she was sick to her stomach. Never in her entire life, on or off the job, had she seen anyone this badly beaten, male or female. That’s what disturbed her most about this incident. The paramedic couldn’t help but feel like the world had failed this patient in many ways. Least of which it failed to protect her.
I wonder what happened to her, she thought.
Usually, Pam suspected a husband, boyfriend or an ex of this type of brutality. In her mind, this case was no different. Only someone that this young lady was intimately involved with could produce such rage to beat her within inches of her life. Whoever did it really did a number on her, the paramedic concluded.
Why? she wondered.
This badly beaten victim gave new meaning to blunt force trauma. Her face was swollen twice its normal size. There was a large cut on her scalp, trickles of blood leaked from her nose and mouth. The welt marks on various parts on her body, back, chest, arms and buttocks, testified to the severity of the physical attack.
Everyone who had laid eyes on her couldn’t help but wonder what kind of animal or psychopath would do this to another human being, let alone a woman. Looking at the injuries inflicted on her patient, she felt justified in labeling the perpetrator by any name she could think of, other than a child of god.
The paramedic wasn’t an overly religious woman, yet every time she looked down at her patient, she felt compelled to say a silent prayer.
Lord have Mercy, she thought. Please don’t let this child die. Not like this. Not tonight . Not on my watch!
Pray as she might, every time she laid eyes on her, the paramedic couldn’t help but wince. Netta looked that bad. She had serious doubts about her survival rate in this condition.
“Pamela, how’s everything back there?” her partner shouted through the glass partition. “How’s the patient holding up?”
The situation looked grim, but the paramedic tried her best to be optimistic, shouting back to him some words of encouragement.
“The patient is holding up just fine. She’s one tough cookie, but she’ll be even better once we get there,” she replied optimistically.
These two knew each other like a book after working together for the last six years. They had built a rapport that extended off the job. They had become trusting friends who truly cared about each other’s well-being.
Pam’s message to her partner was coded. Brett immediately knew exactly what that meant, Hurry the hell up. He gunned the engine even harder, desperate to win his race against time.
In an emergency situation like this, it seemed as if the ambulance was moving slowly, although in real time it was moving at break neck speed. For the paramedic tending to her patient, it felt like it was taking an eternity to reach the safe haven of the hospital.
After checking on the IV in Netta's arm, Pam continued to care for the patient by placing an oxygen mask over her mouth, while simultaneously keeping track of her pulse. The paramedic was sure that she had done everything in her power to stabilize the patient until they arrived at the hospital, where a trauma unit team awaited their arrival.
At best, all they could do now was try to keep the patient's condition stabilized. The paramedic hoped things didn’t take a turn for the worst before they reached their destination. Yet, that was wishful thinking to say the least. Netta was severely injured. Anything could happen on the way to the hospital. There was always a chance that she could lose her life. The journey to the hospital was unpredictable, even to a seasoned medical professional such as herself.
Helplessly, Netta looked on, her swollen eyelids staring up at the bright lights inside the ambulance. Pain had consumed her. Tears trickled down her cheeks. It was the first time she had cried from physical pain since she was a kid. Physically, she was in a bad way. Her aura of invincibility was shattered. Netta, the boss bitch of the Pussy Pound clique, was now just another victim of the streets of Baltimore, fighting for her life.
Subconsciously, she began to replay the events that led to her being a passenger in the ambulance. Netta even envisioned her assailant, Black, as he administered the savage beating on her. She felt every blow as he unleashed all his rage and fury on her.
Netta’s head was spinning. Her body was swimming in a current of pain. Submerged in the darkness of the hotel room, she never saw the first punch coming. Black, her ex-boyfriend recently released from prison, had ambushed her just as she exited the bathroom and prepared to go home. She knew it was a bad idea to come here with him, especially after what she had done to him, but she felt like she had no other choice.
Although he hadn't forced her or kidnapped her, Netta knew it was come willingly or die. Right there on the spot. She knew Black was a killer many times over. She also knew he wasn't the type to take no for an answer. Especially when she owed him. And especially when she stole from him.
Black savagely pummeled her with punch after punch as she came crashing down on the floor. He straddled her and continued to pound every part of her body with blow after blow, until Netta blacked out from the beating. Another powerful blow from his fists would only serve to bring her back around again.
His steady stream of punches put a quick end to any feeble defense Netta managed to mount. She covered her head only to be beaten in her body. With his bare hands, Black injured her in countless places. Still, it wasn’t enough. He wasn’t satisfied. Now that vengeance was his, he wanted more. Nothing short of her death would make him happy. This was
