Stephen King - Insomnia

His heart was pounding hard, and even with the baby safe in his arms he kept seeing her slip away, kept seeing her head with its cap of fine hair slamming against the butt-littered pavement with a sickening crack.

“Hum? Ar? Ral?” Helen asked. She saw Natalie in Ralph’s arnls, and some of the dullness went out (of her good eye. She raised her hands toward the child, and in Ralph’s arms, Natalie mimicked the gesture with her own chubby hands. Then Helen staggered, struck the side of the building, and reeled backward a step. One foot tangled in the other (Ralph saw splatters of blood on her small white sneakers, and it was amazing how bright everything was all of a sudden; the color had come back into the world, at least temporarily), and she would have fallen if Sue hadn’t picked that moment to finally venture out.

Instead of going down, Helen landed against the opening door and just leaned there, like a drunk against a lamppost.

“Ral?” The expression in her eyes was a little sharper now, and Ralph saw it wasn’t so much curiosity as incredulity. She drew in a deep breath and made an effort to force intelligible words past her swelled lips. “Gih. Gih me my bay-ee. Bay-be. Gih me… Natalie.”

“Not just yet, Helen,” Ralph said. “You’re not too steady on your feet right now.”

Sue was still on the other side of the door, holding it so Helen wouldn’t fall. The girl’s cheeks and forehead were ashy-pale, her eyes filled with tears.

“Get out here,” Ralph told her. “Hold her up.”

“I can’t!” she blubbered. “She’s all bluh-bluh-bloody!”

“Oh for God’s sake, quit it! It’s Helen! Helen Deepneau from up the street!”

And although Sue must have known that, actually hearing the name seemed to turn the trick. She slipped around the open door, and when Helen staggered backward again, Sue curled an arm around her shoulders and braced her firmly. That expression of incredulous surprise remained on Helen’s face. Ralph found it harder and harder to look at.

It made him feel sick to his stomach.

“Ralph? What happened? Was it an accident?”

He turned his head and saw Bill McGovern standing at the edge of the parking lot. He was wearing one of his natty blue shirts with the iron’s creases still in the sleeves and holding (one of his longfingered, oddly delicate hands up to shade his eyes.

He looked strange, somehow naked that way, but Ralph had no time to think about why; too much was happening.

“It was no accident,” he said. “She’s been beaten up. Here, take the kid,” He held Natalie out to McGovern, who at first shrank back and then took the baby. Natalie immediately began to shriek again.

McGovern, looking like someone who has just been handed an over-filled airsick bag, held her out at arm’s length with her feet dangling.

Behind him a small crowd was beginning to gather, many of them teenage kids in baseball uniforms on their way home from an afternoon game at the field around the corner. They were staring at Helen’s puffed and bloody face with an unpleasant avidity, and Ralph found himself thinking of the Bible story about the time Noah had gotten drunk-the good sons who had looked away from the naked old man lying in his tent, the bad one who had looked…

Gently, he replaced Sue’s arm with his own. Helen’s good eye rolled back to him. She said his name more clearly this time, more positively, and the gratitude Ralph heard in her blurry voice made him feel like crying.

“Sue-take the baby. Bill doesn’t have a clue.”

She did, folding Nat gently and expertly into her arms. McGovern gave her a grateful smile, and Ralph suddenly realized what was wrong with the way he looked. McGovern wasn’t wearing the Panama hat which seemed as much a part of him (in the summertime, at least) as the well on the bridge of his nose.

“Hey, mister, what happened?” one of the baseball kids asked.

“Nothing that’s any of your business,” Ralph said.

“Looks like she went a few rounds with Riddick Bowe.”

“Nah, Tyson,” one of the other baseball kids said, and incredibly, there was laughter.

“Get out of here!” Ralph shouted at them, suddenly furious.

“Go peddle your papers! Mind your business!”

They shuffled back a few steps, but no one left. It was blood they were looking at, and not on a movie screen.

“Helen, can you walk?”

“Yell,” she said. “Fink… Think so.”

He led her carefully around the open door and into the Red Apple.

She moved slowly, shuffling from foot to foot like an old woman.

The smell of sweat and spent adrenaline was baking e)ut of her pores in a sour reek, and Ralph felt his stomach turn over again. It wasn’t the smell, not really; it was the effort to reconcile this Helen with the pert and pleasantly sexy woman he. had spoken to yesterday while she worked in her flower-beds.

Ralph suddenly remembered something else about yesterdayHelen had been wearing blue shorts, cut quite high, and he had noticed a couple of bruises on her legs-a large yellow blotch far up on the left thigh, a fresher, darker smudge on the right calf.

He walked Helen toward the little office area behind the cash register. He glanced up into the convex anti-theft mirror mounted in the corner and saw McGovern herding the door for Sue.

“Lock the door,” he said over his shoulder.

“Gee, Ralph, I’m not supposed to-”

“Just for a couple of minutes,” Ralph said. “Please.”

“Well… okay. I guess.”

Ralph heard the snick of the bolt being turned as he eased Helen into the hard plastic contour chair behind the littery desk. He picked up the telephone and punched the button marked 911. Before the phone could ring on the other end, a blood-streaked hand reached out and pushed down the gray disconnect button.

“Dough… Ral.” She swallowed with an obvious effort, and tried again. “Don’t, “Yes,” Ralph said. “I’m going to.”

Now it was fear he saw in her one good eye, and nothing dull about it.

“No,” she said, “Please, Ralph. Don’t.” She looked past him and held out her hands again. The bumble, pleading look on her beaten face made Ralph wince with dismay.

“Ralph?” Sue asked. “She wants the baby.”

“I know. Go ahead.”

Sue handed Natalie to Helen, and Ralph watched as the baby-a little over a year old now, he was pretty sure-put her arms around her mother’s neck and her face against her mother’s shoulder. Helen kissed the top of Nat’s head It clearly hurt her to do this, but she did it again. And then again. Looking down at her, Ralph could see blood grimed into the faint creases on the nape of Helen’s neck like dirt.

As he looked at this, he felt the anger begin to pulse again.

“It was Ed, wasn’t it?” he asked. Of course it was-you didn’t hit the cutoff button on the phone when someone tried to call 911 if you had been beaten up by a total stranger-but he had to ask.

“Yes,” she said. Her voice was no more than a whisper, the answer a secret imparted into the fine cloud of her baby daughter’s hair.

“Yes, it was Ed. But you can’t call the police.” She looked up now, the good eye full of fear and misery. “Please don’t call the police, Ralph. I can’t bear to think of Natalie’s dad in jail for… for Helen burst into tears. Natalie goggled at her mother for a moment in comic surprise, and then joined her.

“Ralph?” McGovern asked hesitantly. “DO you want me to get her some Tylenol or something?”

“Better not,” he said. “We don’t know what’s wrong with her, how bad she might be hurt.” His eyes shifted to the show window, not wanting to see what was out there, hoping not to, and seeing it anyway.

A beer cooler cut off the view. Some of them were cupping their hands v: avid faces lined up all the way down to the place where the to the sides of their faces to cut the glare.