Chapter Thirty-one
~
I’d been in the little ER cubby when they bandaged the gash in Hale’s head, causin’ the majority of the blood flow. Then they cut off his tee. The already-forming purple bruises had drawn a few new sobs I couldn’t control. There was no help for me as the tears continued.
A stinkin’ human entered, a partner stood in the aisle outside. Both wore serious demeanors. The one troll cop had warned us humans would have to take our statements, since humans were involved. They called it an incident. It was a beatin’. I don’t want any of those fools who attacked Hale to be seriously injured, but I still hoped they pay dearly.
Didn’t want to leave Hale. In emotional settin’s, he can—
But the two cops insisted we walk out to a quite corner in the waitin’ room. The humans kept their voices down. As though they wanted to ensure I didn’t get upset with ’em. I’m no idiot. I could see the way their eyes traipsed from my toes to my forehead, they were overwhelmed with my size. What I’m capable off. Did they figure out I’m not all ogre?
Maybe I should have waited for that lawyer. Cordiz didn’t insist, but told me to think hard about it. Suggested I call Papa. Said legally, they couldn’t even speak to me without a parent present. Weird. Humans have weird laws. But that would have extended this drama, and I just wanted to get back in that tiny room with Hale.
On the sly, Cordiz’d said speakin’ now could be a benefit. That they weren’t smart enough to figger I’m what they call a minor, nothin’ I said could be used against me in court. That last sentence had taken my breath away.
Our council of elders is so much better than their—system. Where it’s said a giant can never get a fair deal.
I’m intelligent enough to know that humans are very fragile. By default we’re the aggressors. When I saw them whacking the holy moly out of Hale, I might have allowed my strength, and my fear and anger, get out of hand. I followed Cordiz’s directions as anally as I could. Didn’t volunteer nothin’. Kept my answers as close to yes and no as I could.
But we’re in the realm of humans. There’s a reason giants don’t trust humans as far as they can throw us. They were polite and all, but I sat itchin’ in my braincase, imaginin’ how they could take my words out of context. So I never used a verb implyin’ action. Made ’em ask their questions over and over. But I don’t care. Hale was curled up on the street gettin’ the bloody hell kicked out of him. Of course I protected him. Not like I’m stupid enough to say it exactly like that.
The questionin’ might have lasted twenty minutes, but seemed a lot longer. As they walked me back to Hale, we met up with Cordiz. Were her eyes—moist with tears? The cops left me with her and strode away, met up with the cop that had stayed with Hale.
Cordiz leaned down close. “He wouldn’t open his mouth, the troll cops told me. Didn’t even act like he knew they were in the room. Yar sibling go through this before?”
Despite her moist, puffy, red eyes, a hint of a smile emerged.
I gave her my best confused look.
“The troll officer, the hottie, whispered to ’em, that Hale’s autistic, and they walked out and huddled in the hallway.”
I nodded. That made sense. Not the hottie part. Well. They were both handsome in their navy-blue uniforms. And really kind to us.
As Cordiz continued, her voice had tightened. “Up here, beatin’ on someone—ya know—not able to protect themselves, brings a pretty stiff penalty. Ya s’pose Hale knows that?”
I was pretty certain he’s completely humiliated to have been—to have been a victim. Bein’ the most harmless creature I’ve ever met, can’t imagine what this is doin’ to him. The idea of goin’ huntin’ with Papa and Uncle Ike makes him puke.
Cordiz put her hand out to stop me. “They asked we stay out here, while they stitch him up. Will let us back in when they’ve got ice packs on his back.”
Hm. Maybe he’d prefer I was with him. Cordiz’ expression drew me back. “What?”
“I am so, so sorry, Bele. I’m crushed that this is my fault. Please forgive me.”
Mama has a sayin’. Bad thin’s happen to good folk. But I didn’t want to give Cordiz a cliché, especially since tears were now pourin’ down her cheeks, really messin’ up what remained of her makeup.
I swallowed down some of my own emotion. “Hen. He’s half ogre, half troll. A few contusions. Phft. They’ll admit him because of his concussion, but that bull’s gonna be just fine.”
~
Hale
~
I kept repeatin’ to myself that there are bad folk all over. Don’t hate all humans because of a few fools. But this would leave a mark. Uh, literally, several marks.
This whole thin’ is gonna tear Bele and Mama up a lot more. If I’m half as tough as my papa, I can take considerably more adversity than I have tonight. More embarrassed I was in the middle of a stupid episode and unable to protect myself.
Will they ever stop?
Gotta find someone who can help me deal with ’em.
Ouch. They were workin’ a spot that didn’t feel numbed up good. A bit of a growl rumbled off my chest, not on purpose, and the doctor gushed an apology. Maybe even stepped away a bit. Humans are so afraid of us. Generates all that hate. I told him to just get it over with. I’d survive. He chuckled.
What was I thinkin’ before? Oh, yeah. Someone to help me. Maybe that witch, who freaked Bele out, could help.
Yeah, witches hold a negative connotation with Bele and me—after all, a witch s’posedly cursed Papa, why he can only speak Trollish now. That’s half the fun of callin’ Bele a witch.
A pressure on my hip, pretty sure woke me. The doctor teased that his needle must not be botherin’ me much if I could fall asleep. Evidently I began to snore. He reminded me he didn’t want me to fall asleep for a bit, while they evaluated my concussion.
Great. Sleepin’ through a hundred stitches or so sounds a better option.
Ten minutes later they must have run out of cat gut, ’cause the doc said they were gonna pack me with ice for twenty minutes now, to ease the bruisin’.
Was so wantin’ to close my eyes when Bele and that stinkin’ hen entered my little curtained domain. That little cubby they originally had me in would have been a good place to snooze.
“How many stinkin’ stitches did they put in ya?” Bele asked.
“Two or three.”
Cordiz said, “Looks like two or three hundred.”
“Ya come in here to make me feel better?” I asked.
She said, “I thought I’d test all the knots in those thin’s are good and tight.”
Thankfully the chatter paused while a couple nurses fluffed up some chilly packs around my back and left shoulder. Best temperature I’d experienced since getting’ off the silly plane the other day on the West Plain.
After they were satisfied with their proddin’ and left, Cordiz said, “I’ve spoken to Commander—yar Uncle Jam.”
I sensed an uptick in Bele’s—emotions. I waited for the stinkin’ hen to continue.
“He was more understandin’ than he shoulda been. Didn’t threaten to kill me. Didn’t tell me to pack my bag and head home. But, if ya want, I will.”
“Phft. Were gettin’ on a plane in the mornin’ anyway,” I said.
They both said, “We are?”
“Well, evenin’. Been warned they won’t let me out of here for a good twelve hours.”
“Ya want me to stay with ya?” Cordiz asked.
“Tonight I’ll need yar irritatin’ hen mouth to keep me awake. They don’t want me to nod off.”
“So I’m good for somethin’ then,” she said.
“Just bein’ irritatin’,” I said. Could sense the—heat, not the right word. If emotions have a color, I would say Bele was a bit, red.
“I’m sorry,” Cordiz said, slowly. I think her tone was hintin’ some kind of emotion of her own. But Bele would have to explain it to me.
“It’s just yar personality,” I said. “Can’t apologize for that.”
~
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