The Waiting Room
1383 Words
Bjorn
The drive to the hospital passed in a strange silence.
Not because the truck was quiet. Between the diesel engine beneath them and the constant rumble of motorcycles surrounding the truck like a moving shield, there was plenty of noise. Yet none of it seemed to reach Bjorn the way it normally would. His attention remained fixed on the woman resting against him.
Samantha hadn't opened her eyes since they loaded her into the truck. Every few minutes she shifted slightly or tightened her grip around his wrist before relaxing again. It wasn't much, but it was enough to tell him she was still there. Still fighting.
Most people would have looked at Samantha and seen a victim. Bjorn saw something different. Victims surrendered. They stopped fighting because they believed there was no point. Samantha had spent who knew how long bleeding in a ditch and had still managed to stay awake long enough to tell complete strangers her name. She had fought to stay conscious because she understood exactly what could happen if she didn't.
That wasn't weakness, it was survival.
The truck hit a rough patch in the road, causing Samantha to flinch. A soft sound escaped her lips as her fingers tightened around his wrist. Immediately, Bjorn looked down at her.
"Easy, sweetheart," he said quietly. "We're almost there."
Her breathing gradually settled again.
From the driver's seat, Diesel glanced at him through the rearview mirror. "She's tougher than she looks."
Bjorn looked down at the bruised woman in his lap. "Yeah."
That single word carried more weight than he intended.
Diesel didn't push the conversation any further.
For that, Bjorn was grateful.
The truth was he couldn't stop thinking about her. Every time he looked at her face, he saw evidence of fear that had existed long before she'd ended up in that ditch. The bruises were new. The fear wasn't.
He'd seen enough people in his life to recognize the difference.
The hospital finally appeared ahead, sitting near the edge of town with bright lights illuminating the emergency entrance. Relief moved through Bjorn before he could stop it. They'd made good time. Now it was up to the doctors.
The moment the truck rolled to a stop, emergency room staff burst through the doors carrying a stretcher. Nurses immediately began asking questions while orderlies moved into position.
"What happened?"
"How long ago did you find her?"
"Was she conscious?"
Bjorn answered everything he could while helping them transfer Samantha onto the stretcher.
The moment her fingers slipped from his wrist, something tightened unexpectedly in his chest.
The feeling irritated him. He barely knew her. Hell, he'd known her for less than an hour. Yet watching strangers wheel her away felt wrong. Like abandoning a responsibility he hadn't asked for but had somehow accepted the moment he knelt beside her in that ditch.
The automatic doors closed behind the stretcher. Just like that, Samantha was gone.
Bjorn stood motionless for several seconds, staring at the entrance long after she disappeared.
Tank stepped up beside him. "She'll be okay."
Bjorn glanced at him. "You don't know that."
"No." Tank shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at the same doors. "But she made it this far."
For once, the big biker didn't follow the statement with a joke. That alone said plenty.
The waiting room filled quickly once the rest of The Hoggs made their way inside. Twenty-one bikers occupying nearly every available chair attracted attention immediately. Nurses glanced their way before quickly looking elsewhere. A security guard stationed near the entrance spent several minutes pretending not to stare.
Bones noticed first.
The older biker shook his head and smirked. "Poor bastard thinks he's about to stop a biker riot."
Diesel dropped into a chair nearby. "With that flashlight?"
The security guard immediately turned away. Several of the men laughed. Even Bjorn felt some of the tension ease. Not much. Just enough.
The hours that followed seemed determined to move as slowly as possible.
Tank paced so much that Bjorn was surprised he didn't wear a groove into the floor. Diesel emptied half the vending machines. Rook spent twenty minutes reading a magazine upside down before Bones finally pointed it out. The kid claimed he'd known the entire time. Nobody believed him.
Normally, Bjorn would have enjoyed the banter.
Today, he barely heard it.
His attention remained fixed on the emergency room doors.
Every time they opened, his head turned. Every single time.
The realization annoyed him more than he cared to admit. He barely knew Samantha. He didn't know where she grew up. Didn't know what she did for a living. Didn't know whether she had family waiting somewhere.
Yet he couldn't stop thinking about her. About the fear in her eyes, the way she'd clung to him in the ditch, or the quiet panic in her voice when she'd asked if he was leaving.
Most people would have assumed help was staying. Samantha had assumed the opposite, and that bothered him.
No one should expect abandonment that easily. Not unless they'd experienced it before. More than once.
Eventually, a doctor stepped into the waiting room. Conversation died immediately. Twenty-one pairs of eyes locked onto the man.
The doctor visibly hesitated before settling his attention on Bjorn. "Mr. Davidson?"
Bjorn stood.
The doctor motioned for him to follow.
They stopped near a hallway leading deeper into the hospital.
"How is she?" Bjorn asked.
The doctor removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "She's stable."
Relief hit harder than Bjorn expected.
The doctor continued. "She has a concussion, dehydration, several fractures, and extensive bruising. Physically, she's going to recover."
Physically. The word stood out immediately.
The doctor noticed. "Emotionally is another matter."
Bjorn folded his arms across his chest. "What happened when she woke up?"
The doctor's expression softened. "She was terrified."
The answer didn't surprise him. Not really. Still, hearing it aloud felt different. "Did she say anything?"
"Not much." The doctor glanced down the hallway. "Mostly questions."
"What kind of questions?"
The doctor sighed. "She wanted to know if anyone knew where she was. She asked repeatedly whether someone named Travis could find her."
The name settled heavily between them.
Bjorn already knew enough about Travis.
Coward.
Thief.
Piece of s**t.
The doctor continued. "Whoever he is, she's scared of him."
Bjorn stared down the hallway.
Scared wasn't the right word. Terrified fit better.
The doctor pointed farther down the corridor. "We moved her into a room a little while ago. She's asleep now."
Bjorn nodded. "Can I see her?"
The doctor studied him for a moment before nodding. "Briefly."
The room was quiet when Bjorn stepped inside.
The lights had been dimmed, and the steady rhythm of medical equipment filled the silence. Samantha looked smaller than he remembered. The hospital bed seemed to swallow her whole.
Someone had cleaned the blood from her hair. Bandages covered part of her forehead, and dark bruises stood out against pale skin. Without the dirt and blood, she looked younger than she had in the ditch.
For several moments, Bjorn simply stood there. Then he pulled a chair beside the bed and sat down. He wasn't entirely sure why.
Maybe because she was alone. Maybe because she had no one else. Or maybe because walking away still felt wrong. The reason didn't matter. The result was the same. He stayed.
Several minutes passed before Samantha stirred. Her brow furrowed as her eyes slowly opened. Confusion appeared first, tT
hen fear. Her gaze darted around the room until it landed on him. The change was immediate.
Not dramatic.
Not complete.
But noticeable.
Some of the tension left her shoulders and faded from her eyes. "You're still here?" Her voice was rough and weak.
Bjorn leaned back slightly in the chair. "Yeah."
Samantha stared at him for several seconds, as though making sure he was real. Then her eyes drifted closed again. "Okay." One word. Barely a whisper. Yet somehow it settled something inside him.
A few moments later she was asleep again.
Bjorn remained exactly where he was, listening to the steady beep of the monitor and watching her chest rise and fall.
Because for reasons he couldn't quite explain, leaving still didn't feel like an option.
- Writer
