Save Me (7 page)

Seconds later, he was out cold.

Layla was in shock. She could barely pick herself up off the ground, her body aching as she leaned against the wall for support. She looked as though she had survived a brutal attack and she could only imagine the headlines to come.

‘Former child star Layla Carter survives a brutal assault.’

Layla flinched in pain as she reached up to touch her throat. Bruises were forming around her collarbone and her skirt had become ripped right above her knees, which were bloody and scratched from when she made impact with the ground. She was no longer thinking about getting a fix. At this point, she just wanted to go home.

“Are you alright?” Layla heard a deep voice ask her from behind.

She turned around. The smaller man, who now appeared every bit as muscular and brutish as the man who had been attacking him, was staring at Layla through swollen eyes. He was hunched over in pain, but it was apparent to Layla that this was hardly his first go around. The reality of the situation washed over her in a haze.

He had saved her life.

Layla wasn't the sentimental type, but she couldn't help but feel a connection to him on that basis alone. She took in his bloody appearance, swallowing hard.

“I should be asking you that question,” she said after a moment.

The man shrugged, leaning against the wall for support beside Layla and spitting blood.

“I’m fine,” he finally said, pushing past her, 
“you have a nice night.”

A lump formed in Layla’s throat. She didn't want to see him go just yet.

“Wait!” she called after him, “we should call an ambulance!”

Remembering her phone, she looked down at the cement. It was shattered beyond the point of repair.

Great,
 Layla thought.

When the man wouldn't stop walking, she paced after him. He laughed, looking over his shoulder.

“I’ll be fine.” he said again, limping towards a desolate apartment complex off in the distance.

Layla rolled her eyes. Men and their egos. She never did understand them. She continued walking after him, following him through a littered courtyard and up to a dimly lit building, where six or seven large motorcycles sat shining in the moonlight.

“Look lady,” he finally said, stopping in the hallway of the apartment building and turning to face Layla.

“I don’t know what you are doing but I want you to cut it out. Get lost.”

Layla raised her eyebrows, watching as the man pulled a set of keys from his pockets and limped his way up a set of concrete stairs.

“I…I just want to help,” Layla called after him.

“I don’t need it,” He replied flatly.

Once on the second floor, Layla opened her mouth to reply, but her words were drowned out by the sound of heavy rock music emanating from an apartment near the end of the walkway.

“I just want to make sure you are okay,” Layla said again, louder this time.

The man ignored her, walking towards the apartment where the noise was coming from and opening the door.

“Well?” he said over his shoulder, “are you coming or what?”

A knot formed in Layla’s throat. She had no idea why she had followed him. He might have been responsible for saving her life, but he was still a stranger.

“I don’t know…” she trailed off.

The battered man laughed.

“Suit yourself,” he said, entering the crowded apartment as the door slammed shut behind him.

Layla’s cheeks flushed red. She was embarrassed and exhausted but she needed to at least find out the name of the man she owed her life to. She reached for the door knob, entering the small apartment which reeked of pot and booze. It was packed from wall to wall with people, most sporting leather cuts with the word 'Disciple' on the back and red bandanas. Layla could hardly see through the smoke. Her knight in shining armor was nowhere to be seen and she struggled to push through hoards of people to find him. The apartment wasn't that big.
There was no way he went far,
Layla thought.

Suddenly, she felt her back brush against a doorknob. She was pushed against too many people and didn't have enough room to turn around, but she reached backwards, awkwardly turning the knob and sending herself flying into a small bathroom. It was the only place in the entire apartment that wasn't occupied and Layla shut the door, collapsing on the toilet lid and exhaling deeply.

He was bound to come in here and clean himself up eventually,
Layla thought, running a hand through her matted hair. This wasn't the way she had foreseen her night going. Not by a long shot.

She reached for her bag, opening it up and pulling out the bottle of vitamins that she stashed her coke in. She dipped her finger in the tiny bag, sniffing the white powder as relief settled over her. Her heart, which had been pounding intensely against her chest, slowed to a comforting thump. She no longer felt on the brink of a panic attack.

Feeling daring, Layla opened up two of the bright orange pill bottles she had snatched from her mother. Whether they were uppers or downers, she wasn't sure, but she popped four of the medium sized pills into her mouth anyway, swallowing them with some water from the sink.

It might not have been the heroin rush she had went out looking for, but it did the trick.

–

“Ms. Carter? Ms. Carter are you awake?”

Layla’s eyes snapped open. She didn't know how long she had been out, but it felt like an eternity.

She looked over at the clock on the wall. It was eleven at night. Almost a full day had passed since she was admitted into the hospital.

"Can I go home?" Layla heard herself ask. Her throat felt like sand paper. She was handed a glass of water by someone and took a sip, adjusting her eyes to the light. Dr. Amar was in front of her but there was someone else beside him. Someone Layla didn't recognize.

He was tall, muscular and handsome with dark brown hair that tapered off near his temples. His facial features were sharp and angular offset by a strong nose, full lips and steely brown eyes that never left Layla's face. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but Layla couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.

"Well let’s see about that shall we?" Dr. Amar said, pulling out his thermometer to take Layla's vitals.

Part of Layla hoped he said no. If they released her right away, there was no doubt in her mind as to where she would end up. Right back on the streets of LA – searching for a fix despite having her stomach pumped and nearly dying.

CONFUSION

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

Present

L
ayla couldn't take her eyes off the man in her doorway. He was wearing a leather cut covered in patches, stained blue jeans, and steel toe boots. It was obvious to her that whoever he was, he wasn't a doctor or any hospital employee for that matter.

"Who is that?" Layla asked Dr. Amar, her voice shaking as she stared at the mysterious man lurking before her.

Dr. Amar stopped what he was doing to look over his shoulder, his brows furrowed. He looked at Layla before walking towards the man, whispering something to him as they stepped into the hall.

Layla could barely make out what they were saying but she captured the gist of it.

"It’s okay," she heard Dr. Amar say from the other side of the door. "It's only short term memory loss. If she doesn't seem to be getting any better in a few days, give me a call and we'll schedule an MRI."

Layla could see them through the tiny glass window. Dr. Amar reached in his jacket pocket, pulling out a business card and handing it to the man, who slid it in his wallet.

The TV above Layla was on mute but as a picture of herself flashed onto the screen, she reached for the remote control attached to her bed, turning up the volume.

She sighed, tossing and turning in the starchy hospital sheets. This place was hardly the Hilton, the place she usually holed up in when her mother or agent would force her to get clean for a role.

Not only that, but she hadn't showered in days and was beginning to smell like the people who lived in tents on the outskirts of skid row.

"Bullshit." Layla whispered to herself as picture after picture of herself filled the screen, a collage of every look she had ever tried and failed. At one point her hair had even been pink. Layla cringed, staring at the screen.

"Former child star Layla Carter is expected to be released from St. Vincent Medical Center tomorrow. Layla was admitted last night after a drug overdose. Sources say suicide could have been a factor. More at ten." an attractive news anchor said with a smile that didn't match the words leaving her mouth.

Released? Suicide? All of that was news to Layla. As usual, the press had managed to get everything wrong, but Layla had to admire them on their timeliness.

She sighed, shutting off the TV as Dr. Amar reappeared in her room, the man close behind him.

"What is going on?" Layla asked, "who is that?"

A lump of fear surfaced in her throat. She felt as though she had woken up in a bad dream.

"Layla," Dr. Amar said, looking over at the man, "temporary brain damage is quite normal in your situation."

His words didn't make sense. Nothing made sense. Layla shook her head, opening her mouth to speak, but no words reached the surface.

"I'll give you two a minute,” Dr. Amar said, nodding at Layla before he exited the room.

"Wait!" Layla yelled after him, pulling herself forward, "come back!”

"It's okay," Leo said to Layla, stepping slowly towards her with his hands held in front of him to show that he meant no harm. His boots made heavy contact with the floor. Layla searched for something 
–
 anything 
–
 she could use to defend herself with, but there was nothing.

"Stop right there!" She said with haste. Leo looked at her, his eyes glowing. Fear began to creep its way up Layla's spine.

"I said get back!" Layla urged, "I don't know you."

Leo shook his head, taking a seat in a chair beside Layla's bed and lighting up a cigarette, ignoring the large 'no smoking' sign that hung above him.

"Tell me who the hell you are!" Layla insisted as Leo pushed open a window, blowing out a thin ring of smoke and flicking the ash.

"Didn't you hear?"

"I’m your knight in shining leather,” he said sarcastically.

Suddenly it occurred to Layla who he was. He wasn't just another crazed fan looking to cash in on his five minutes of fame. He was the man Dr. Amar had said saved her life. What Layla couldn't seem to figure out was how he had managed to fool everyone into thinking he was her fiancé.

Layla could only imagine the headlines.

Former child star turned Layla Carter - details on her secret hubby!

She bit down on her bottom lip, nodding at the pack of cigarettes in Leo's hands.

"Mind if I bum one?" she asked. Leo raised an eyebrow.

"I don't know..." he trailed off.

"What?"

"You're in a hospital bed..." he finished.

"So?" Layla countered.

Leo shook his head, pulling out a cigarette from the pack. He lit it with his own, handing it over to her. She took a hit, inhaling deeply. It was her first in days and instant gratification settled over her body as the nicotine filled her airways.

"So you're Leo?"

His name rolled off of her tongue like honey. Leo nodded, flicking the bud of his cigarette out the window and shutting it.

"Thanks for saving my life," Layla said, genuinely meaning it, 
"but...what's with the fiancé thing?"

Leo ran a hand along his jaw. He scratched his head, unsure of what to say. The truth was, he didn't have an answer for the emaciated young girl in front of him.

He was simply acting out of instinct.

–

Past

Mily stirred awake, opening her hazel eyes and blinking back the sunlight, which leaked through her blinds. Leo was already awake, his arms folded back behind his head.