Chapter 4

ISABELLA'S POV

I nodded painfully, keeping a tight hold on my tears as I signed. I was still doubting the experience, still blinking and feeling like I was going to wake up anytime soon. 

Then I turned around and made to leave for the bedroom, but the quick, brash voice of James's mother stopped me midway.

"Heading to where?"

I closed and opened my eyes, inhaled, then turned around measuredly, tears now gleaming from my eyes.

"Need to get my things."

Naomi instantly let out a short, disbelieving laugh before she asked;

"Wait, your things? From where?" She queried further with her hands spread out.

I let out a surprised gasp before I answered with 

   "From the bedroom." 

 My eyes were already dancing about in confusion, wondering where she was headed with this.

She let out another short laugh before finally folding her arms to say;

"You must be joking, young lady. Because you ceased to own anything in this house after you signed those documents right there."

"What!?" I exclaimed loudly, glancing at James anxiously, but he shrugged.

"Now leave." She commanded with her head held up.

But I did not move; I just couldn't. I was rooted in one spot because it was hard to imagine myself walking away from a place where I had invested my time, love, and emotion only to be asked to take a walk, like it was some sort of movie scene.

"Are you deaf?" Her voice was harsher now, but even that did not shake me.

"Just leave Salindra; aren't you tired of all these dramas already?" James's voice echoed tiredly, but I could barely look at him.

"Since she wants to prove stubborn, let us help her in a way that is befitting."  His mother said, quickly gesturing to Celine as they both rushed forward like twin tigresses, grabbing me by both arms.

  I tried to struggle for a second, and then I stopped when I suddenly realized that there was really nothing to struggle for; this was really happening to me. James was far gone, and my marriage was indeed crumbling before my eyes. I sighed and freed my tensed muscles. 

Then Celine, with one of her free hands, flung the exit door open, and with the aid of her mother, they both pulled and tugged at my arms from either side, dragging me forcefully out of the sitting room and outside the yard. The uncoordinated and noisy sound of each foot persisted until we reached outside the gate, where they finally pushed me out and locked up the metal barriers.

"Go find another golden goose elsewhere, you shameless beggar!" Naomi shouted inside the house before turning around again to return indoors with her daughter beside her.

I stood outside, gazing at the gate, with my chest heaving up and down. My face was soaked with tears, and my expression was painful and defeated.

     It was hard to imagine that just a night ago, I was making preparations to celebrate an anniversary.

   I shook my head bitterly. I might have stood there for eternity if not for the fact that I was beginning to feel the fatigue that had been plaguing me for a while now. I was losing strength, and I needed to get a place to rest and think about my life.

   I took a stroll towards the end of the road, moving my legs lazily and bowing my head slightly.

The bus stop made of steel with a partial roof was the perfect place for the rest I needed at that moment. I reached there in a few minutes and sat on one of the wooden benches inside, arranged side by side.

"How will Daddy take this?" That was the first thought that came to mind after my buttocks touched the seats.

He had fervently warned me years ago and even last night. I still remember his red eyes and angry countenance when I told him of my love for James. I had been so foolishly strong-headed when he told me to divorce James right away. Now, how do I return to him to say I have lost him?

   "God, I feel so stupid," I whispered.

My only solace now is my skill. At least I had not been stupid enough to throw all that away for love, too. The loss was too overwhelming. 

I was still in that pensive mood when, behind me, the sharp, chaotic screeching of tires, followed by the loud sound of a car at full speed ramming against an iron pole, suddenly made me jump on my seat in shock.

The force of the hit was bone-jarring. I sprang up to my feet to throw a glance at the sight of the scene.

    The forceful impact of the car left a messy outcome, shattered glasses were spread on the road, and the front view of the car had been totally squeezed up.

Other onlookers from around the street rushed towards the car to pull out the only occupants, who were shouting and groaning in pain inside.

"He's trapped. His leg ... his legs, it's stuck in one of the frames!"  One of the witnesses shouted.

  "I'm afraid I might pull off too much flesh if I use force."

I recoiled instantly.

"So, are we just going to leave him like this?" Another person asked in a frantic tone.

"Call the ambulance!"  The first voice shouted.

"Stop!" I suddenly shouted, surprising myself with the firmness in my tone and hurrying towards them.

    The eyes of everyone instantly turned to me.

    "Please give him some space," I said as I approached the crowded door. The acrid scent of burning tires was thick now.

"Are you a doctor?" Someone asked.

"Yes, please," I whispered, gazing at the victim, whose eyes were half closed. He was slanted diagonally, breathing heavily, his trunk protruding halfway from the driver section onto some portion of the ground, with only his bloodied leg hanging inside the squeezed-up metal frame of the car.

 I glanced at the leg for a moment, and in an instant, my knowledge of clinical anatomy as well as the graphic imagery of the human tarsals came alive. 

He was lucky. Only the skin of his toes and feet were pinned; his muscles and bones were safe.  

 " A pen, please,"

"What?" The man I pointed to, asked, looking perplexed. That was the last thing he was expecting to hear.

“I need a pen, please."

"Have it, Doc." Someone ran forward and immediately tucked one into my hand.

I pushed my way into the car again, squatting as I held on to the injured man's feet, and with the pen,  I fashioned a makeshift lever. Then,  with uncanny precision, I started to free his skin from the hooks without incurring any more injuries.

As the leg came free, I heard many awed sounds of "Oooh, she's incredible" and "Aaah, how did she do that?"

Some of them even brought out their phones to film, but I was too invested in saving the man's life to care. 

An ambulance finally arrived, and the men helped me carry the victim out of the wrecked vehicle and into the waiting wagon. They sped off again in the direction of a hospital.

The witnesses started to clap and cheer, shouting, "Thank you, doctor." from different corners of the scene and across the streets.

 

While I nodded and hurried back to my previous spot.

   My little heroic moment had almost made me forget my current predicament.

   After a few seconds of breathing in and out, I finally dialed Owen's number.

  It rang twice before he answered. However, the tone of his voice was surprisingly tense and worrisome.

"Bella, please, can I call you back? I've just been told that my friend was involved in a ghastly accident.”