TWENTY-FOUR

The room had a large open space with high ceilings, making it the perfect spot to play. They had a small plastic bat and a soft ball, which they were using to play.

Xavier was pitching the ball to Johnson, who was standing a few feet away from him. Johnson swung the bat and missed, causing the ball to hit the wall. Xavier chuckled and said, "Looks like you need to work on your swing, man."

Johnson picked up the ball and handed it to Xavier. "Alright, let's see what you got," he said with a grin.

Xavier wound up and pitched the ball to Johnson. This time, Johnson connected with the ball, sending it flying towards the wall. It hit the wall with a thud, and Xavier chased after it.

As Xavier retrieved the ball, Johnson asked him, "So, how's your brother doing?"

Xavier's older brother had been sick for a while, and Johnson was genuinely concerned about his health. "He's doing better, thanks for asking. He's still in the hospital, but the doctors say he should be able to go home soon."

"That's great news," Johnson said, as he readied himself for the next pitch.

Xavier threw the ball, and Johnson hit it with a loud crack. The ball sailed across the room, narrowly missing a vase on a nearby table.

"Careful there, man," Xavier said, as he retrieved the ball once again.

Johnson laughed. "I'm just getting warmed up."

They continued to play for a while, laughing and joking as they went.

As they played, they heard a sudden commotion outside the room, and Amanda barged into the room, looking scared and frantic.

She interrupted their game, causing Johnson to lose his concentration.

"Jay, please come and look at this," she said, her voice quivering.

Johnson was upset about the disturbance and asked,

"What trouble have you gotten into again, Amanda?"

"It's not me," Amanda said, her voice trembling. "Just come and see."

Sensing the urgency in her voice, Johnson and Xavier followed Amanda to another room where a young woman was lying on the bed with a bleeding head and a few bruises.

"What's the meaning of all this?" Johnson asked, bewildered.

"I made a mistake," Amanda said, tears welling up in her eyes. "I hit her with my car when I was drunk driving."

Johnson shook his head, "You always bring trouble around you. Why didn't you take her to the hospital and bring her here?"

Amanda looked down at the ground, "The police might get involved and I'd be questioned. Then I would be punished for driving underage and my car might be taken away from me. So, I brought her here instead."

Xavier chimed in, "What if the woman decides to press charges for this?"

Amanda looked at him desperately, "We can convince her not to and give her as much money as she wants."

Johnson let out a deep sigh, "Amanda, you can't just bring anyone into the house. You have to take care of this yourself."

Amanda begged, "Please Jay, can't we just treat her here? She needs medical attention."

Johnson was hesitant, "What if something goes wrong? What if we're held responsible?"

"I'll take care of everything," Amanda promised. "Please, I can't let her die."

The injured woman on the bed lay motionless, her breathing shallow as if she was in a deep sleep. Her once perfectly combed hair was now in disarray, with a few strands sticking to her sweat-drenched forehead.

She had a few bruises on her face, and dried up blood seeped halfways down from a bruise on her temple. A little bit of the blood had stained the white sheets on the bed, giving them a macabre appearance.

Johnson stood by the bedside, staring down at the woman.

Xavier stood beside Johnson, looking just as concerned. He could see how pale the woman's face was, and he wondered how bad the injury was. "Man, we need to do something," Xavier said, breaking the silence.

****

After Xavier called the doctor, there was a bit of a wait before he arrived. During that time, Johnson paced back and forth in the room, muttering to Amanda about her recklessness and the potential consequences they could all face.

Amanda sat beside the injured woman's bed, clutching her hand and occasionally dabbing at her forehead with a damp cloth.

Finally, there was a knock at the door and Xavier went to answer it. He returned with the doctor, a middle-aged man with a kind face and a well-worn leather bag. He followed Xavier to the room where the injured woman lay, and his eyes widened in surprise at the sight before him.

"What on earth is going on here?" he asked, his voice incredulous.

"Why is there an accident victim in your bed instead of at the hospital?"

Amanda jumped up from her chair, wringing her hands. "We were hoping you could treat her here," she said, her voice trembling. "I can't say too much about the details right bow, but can you please make sure she's out of danger."

The doctor looked skeptical. "Treating her at home with no facilities is highly unprofessional, plus she needed at least some first immediately after the accident, what if she died before you got here?," he said, shaking his head,” the doctor scolded.

He was the family doctor.

"But let me take a look at her, and we'll go from there."

He moved to the bed and pulled back the sheet, revealing the woman's head wound. A small amount of blood had seeped through the makeshift bandage, staining the sheets. The woman groaned softly as the doctor prodded at the wound, checking for any signs of serious injury.

Johnson stood off to the side, his arms crossed over his chest.

"So, can you fix her up here or what?" he asked, his tone impatient.

The doctor shot him a disapproving look. "I'll do what I can, but she really needs to be in a hospital," he said firmly. "There could be complications we're not aware of."