Alexandra was having a bad day, but she had no idea how much worse it was going to get.
Alexandra Wayne, by all appearances, had a perfect life. The daughter of a wealthy hedge fund manager, Alexandra grew up enjoying all of the benefits of her father's wealth, private school, equestrian training, vacationing in her family's summer home in the Hamptons, and on and on. Her family took great pride in the fact that they were "old money." Her father spent his weekend yachting at the exclusive Long Island Yacht Club, one of the most prestigious, but restrictive, country clubs in America. Her mother busied herself with charity luncheons and, of course, her duties as president of the local chapter of Daughters of the American Revolution.
Alexandra was both beautiful and smart. She excelled in athletics and in the classroom. The valedictorian of her prep school, Alexandra went on to be a standout student at Princeton and then at Harvard Medical College. A gifted mind, no one was surprised when she earned a coveted surgical residency at Boston General Hospital.
But many of those who worked and lived closest with Alexandra knew that she was different. While her medical school classmates bonded into a family through the long hours and demanding schedules, Alexandra remained arrogant, aloof, even unforgiving. Even her name, Alexandra, was a point of contention. She bristled at any attempt by anyone to shorten it, her eyes lighting with angered for anyone who tried to call her Alex, Lexi or, worst of all, Ally. She knew an Ally once. She was a "new money" Jew from Long Island who was accidentally made her roommate during a three week summer school program at Brown. After three weeks, she couldn't stomach the girl's Long Island twang, nouveau riche fashion sense, and general "smarminess." Although barely 16 at the time, Alexandra crossed Brown off of her list of colleges. If they would let one of "them" in, plainly it was not selective enough for her.
To be clear, Alexandra did not view herself as a racist. Throughout her education, she encountered many minorities. She understood that Jewish interests in the pharmaceutical and medical fields always ensured that there would be many Jewish med school students and affirmative action opened slots for African Americans and Latinos. Many of these students were pleasant enough, a few were even smart. But Alexandra firmly believed that she would rise above all of them. And, while it had nothing to do with race or religion, Alexandra did. She was the top med school student and now, the top resident in the top department in the top training hospital in the United States.
Boston General, while excellent, is a regional hospital and its doors are open to the public. As surgical resident, Alexandra would be called down to the Emergency Room whenever a surgical consult was required. In her first week alone, she endured eight consults for "GSW," gunshot wounds. She would think to herself, these fucking gangbangers, if only they were smart enough to at least shoot each other correctly. In the Hamptons, she could hit a clay skeet pigeon every time with her dad's Beretta shotgun. These gangbangers couldn't even kill a guy five feet away with a damn AK47.
Late one evening, Alexandra received another call for a surgical consult in the ER. It was her third of the night. Tired and angry, Alexandra burst into the examining room. "What did the little gangbangers do this time," she shouted. She railed on and on about how "these people" can't take care of themselves, how "these people" were killing each other, and how much of a burden on society "these people" were. In her anger, Alexandra never bothered to notice that the patient's older brother was sitting in the corner of the examining room, witnessing her diatribe as his brother lie dying.
It turned out that the patient, while poor and black, was not injured in gang violence. A good student in a local public school, he was injured by a forklift while working to pack supplies for a planned church aid mission to Haiti. Despite everyone's efforts, including Alexandra's, his injuries were too severe and he did not survive. His brother watched Alexandra work tirelessly to save him, but it didn't matter. All he saw was another white woman who didn't give a shit about a dying nigger.
After the patient died, things got bad for Alexandra. While no one suggested that her medical care was anything but perfect, the nurses in attendance complained about her racial insensitivity. She was made to endure harsh criticism from the supervising physician in charge of the ER, a doctor she believed to be inferior, and, worse yet, she was made to issue a public apology. She choked on her words apologizing person by person to every physician's assistant, nurse, and aide who had been within earshot of her rant. Alexandra's cheeks burned with anger and embarrassment at the mere thought of apologizing to the same fucking people who wipe asses and clean bedpans for a living.
After her public humiliation, Alexandra retired to the surgeon's lounge to eat her meal and cool off. Unfortunately, the meal she packed of boneless chicken and a quinoa salad had been stolen by some selfish prick, another surgeon too lazy or stupid to arrange his own meal. Nauseated by the vending machine options, Alexandra decided to skip her meal altogether and clear her head with a run. She changed out of her scrubs and into her jogging clothes, a sports bra and sweatshirt, shorts, and her favorite Nike sneakers. As she left through the door, the black security guard attempted to intercede. Not recognizing her to be a doctor, the guard warned, "Excuse me, Miss. It is late at night and not safe for you to go running through this neighborhood."
Alexandra snapped back, "You worry about yourself. I know how to take care of me!"
Alexandra set out for a run along the cool Boston streets. The air was chilly and the streets damp from yet another one of Boston's infamous rains. Lost in her own rage, Alexandra was completely oblivious to her surroundings. She never even took notice as she left the relatively safe neighborhood surrounding the hospital and began running through smaller, darker, more ominous streets. Worse yet, she failed to take note that in this part of town, the roads were older and did not always run along the same grid as the rest of the city. It was really easy to get lost, even just a few blocks from the safety of the hospital district.
In the dark of the night, Alexandra stood out; a tall, blonde woman jogging through the streets past burned out buildings and abandoned storefronts. She didn't care. The night air was cold and burned in her nose and in her lungs. The aching felt good. She was alone – without her med school classmates, nurses, orderlies, patients, or anyone – with only her iPhone playing her favorite music. It gave Alexandra something else to think about, something to take her mind off of the very public, ass-chewing she had gotten.
It wasn't until she had made several wrong turns that Alexandra realized was lost, really fucking lost. She tried to check her location on her iPhone, but her long run exhausted the battery. She began to walk the streets quickly, hoping to find anything that might help her find her way back to the hospital. The fine, blonde hairs on her neck bristled as Alexandra grew more frightened. She knew that she was in a place she didn't belong. A very fucking bad place.
As Alexandra began to panic, she saw a sole figure walking slowly on the other side of the street. Although she could not discern any features, she recognized from the silhouette, that the figure was that of a man, approximately six feet tall and muscular. As the figure walked under a street light, Alexandra could make out the dark grey hoodie, track pants and Nike sneakers that he was wearing. Unfortunately for her, she could not see the dark reddish-brown dried blood stains on his clothes.
Now in the throes of a full-fledged anxiety attack, Alexandra made the very bad decision to seek help from this hooded figure. She knew all about the gangbangers in this part of town. But she knew that they traveled in packs of three or four. This sole person could not be a gangbanger, she told herself. After all, she didn't see a posse. She began to jog toward the person, shouting politely, "Excuse me! Excuse me! Can you help me?" The person did not even stop or look back in her direction. But that did not stop Alexandra.
Alexandra caught up to the figure under a street lamp. From behind the person, she spoke, "Umm, hey, I'm sorry to bother you. I was wondering if you could help me. I'm lost. I need to get back to the hospital. I'm late for my shift. Please, I'm a doctor."
He stopped walking and slowly turned to her, pulling his hoodie back slowly. As he turned, he spoke for the first time, "So, you really want help from one of 'these people.'" In the harsh street light, Alexandra could see the dried blood stains on his clothes and shoes. Her eyes widened as she realized who he was – the older brother of the teenager who had died in her care just hours earlier. His eyes were dark, cold and filled with anger.
Alexandra took a step back, preparing to run, but before she could, he grabbed her by the sweatshirt and threw her hard against a parked car. She slammed into the side of the car before falling to the ground. As she scrambled to her feet, he grabbed her by the hair. She began to beg. "Please, let me just go. I won't say anything. I just want to go. I'm so sorry about your brother. I did everything I could to save him. I swear."
"Shut the fuck up." His voice was calm and cold. "It's too late for that. You fucked up. Now, you're going to pay."
Alexandra tried to run again, but he grabbed her. In her struggle, all she managed to do was help him pull her sweatshirt over her head. The cold air on her sweaty body and her fear caused her body to react physically, involuntarily. Her nipples grew hard and taut under her sports bra. He drew close to her, so close that she could smell the cheap alcohol on his breath. "You are going to be sorry. Very sorry." He struck her again, knocking her to the ground. Lifting her up, he pressed her tight against the parked car. In that chilling voice, he spoke again. "You are in a lot of trouble, bitch. He was a good kid, trying to help people. But you didn't give a fuck. Now, you are going to wish that you had. You are going to hurt bad, real fucking bad."
