No Price On My Broken Ribs

You old piece of trash, you think you can shake me down?!

I was sweeping up litter on the sidewalk when a college girl on an electric scooter swerved and clipped me.

I was about to apologize, but before I could get a word out, she grabbed me by the hair and yanked my head down with terrifying force.

It felt like my scalp was being torn clean off my skull.

My knees slammed into the concrete, the pain so sharp that tears instantly flooded my eyes.

Sweetheart, I'm not trying to shake you down... I'm really not...

Bullshit!

Before I could even process what was happening, her hand came flying at my face.

You pathetic old leech!

Trying to sue me?

Ill show you what happens to scammers!

She dragged me across the asphalt by my hair. She kicked me so hard she shattered seven of my ribs.

Later, she knelt on the hospital floor, sobbing her eyes out, begging, Maam, Im so sorry, I was just drunk. I blacked out.

I stared at her, my chest throbbing too violently to let me speak.

But in my head, there was only one clear, unwavering thought

I will never forgive you.

That first slap came too fast.

I had only managed to say, Sweetheart, watch out, before she spun around and hit me.

Crack.

My ears rang. My left cheek burned like fire.

I stood there, clutching my face, completely disoriented. Before I could even understand what was happening, the screaming started.

You want a payout? Is that it? Ill teach you a lesson, you pathetic old scammer!

I parted my lips. I didn't

Before the words could leave my mouth, she grabbed a fistful of my hair.

Pain.

She yanked my head down. I lost my balance, and she planted her boot right into the back of my knee. I crashed onto the pavement.

Youre still denying it? What did you just say to me? Watch out? Who the hell do you think you're threatening?

I wasn't threatening you. Your scooter ripped my safety vest...

Your vest? How much could a piece of garbage like that possibly be worth?

She pulled my hair upward, and I felt my skin ripping away from my head.

Help! I screamed.

She drove her fist into my chest.

You want to scream? Ill give you something to scream about!

The first punch didnt feel heavy, but it hit the bone. A dull, sickening thud.

Then came the second. The third.

She straddled me, her fists raining down on my chest, my shoulders, my arms.

I curled into a ball, trying to shield my face, but her targets were my ribs, my chest.

God, it hurt.

So bad.

It wasnt the kind of pain you get from a bump or a fall. It was the sound of something snapping inside me.

Keep running your mouth! You want a piece of me? Ill give it to you!

I heard my own voice, weak and desperate: I didn't do anything! Please stop! I'm not trying to scam you!

But she only hit me harder.

Her eyes were bloodshot, her face flushed red, and she reeked of cheap liquor.

She was wasted.

But what did that have to do with me?

She tore my clothes, and I wasn't even allowed to speak up?

A man walking by shouted, Hey! Stop! What the hell are you doing to her?

She paused, glaring at him. Mind your own business! You didn't see her try to shake me down?

The man said, I didn't see her do anything. I see you beating an old woman.

She stood up, pointing a finger in his face. Oh, youre with her, aren't you? I knew it. Youre in on it together, trying to extort me!

The man took two steps back, held up his hands, and hurried away.

I tried to use the distraction to crawl away, but she spun around, saw me, and kicked me hard in the ribs.

I collapsed back onto the concrete.

You want to run? Where do you think you're going?

She crouched, grabbed my wrists, and dragged me toward the curb.

The pavement was covered in gravel and grit. The stones scraped against my back like tiny knives, tearing through my clothes and skin.

I couldnt even scream anymore. My chest was too tight; I couldn't catch my breath.

Look at her! Look at this act! she shouted to the gathering crowd. Shes faking it! All of it! She just wants a lawsuit!

Someone muttered quietly, Hey, stop. Shes old.

So what if shes old? Being old doesn't give you a free pass to scam people! Shes a parasite!

She slapped me again.

My left ear went completely deaf. I could only watch her mouth move, her voice sounding muffled, like she was shouting underwater.

Later, I found out she had dragged me nearly twenty feet from the alley entrance to the curb. My back was shredded.

A small crowd had formed.

A guy in his thirties stepped in, blocking her. Shes old enough to be your grandmother. How can you lay a hand on her?

She glared. Get lost. You want a cut of her payout too?

The guys face went pale with anger. What payout? I saw you hit her with your scooter! She was just doing her job, you swerved right into her, and then you started beating her. How are you pretending you're the victim here?

She hesitated.

The alcohol seemed to hit her all at once; she swayed on her feet. But she wouldn't back down. What did you see? You didn't see her try to extort me?

Extort you for what? Saying watch out is extortion now?

She didn't say watch out! She said, Youre not getting away with this, pay up! Ask her yourself!

I lay on the cold ground, my body screaming in pain, unable to form words.

The guy knelt beside me. Maam, what did you actually say to her?

I parted my dry lips, my voice so faint I could barely hear it myself. I said... watch out...

Hear that? The guy stood up. She said watch out. You hit her, ripped her vest, and she told you to watch out. What's wrong with that?

She sneered. She says one thing, but I know what she meant! You guys are all in this together. Im not playing this game.

She pulled out her phone. Im calling the cops. Let them handle you scammers!

I watched her dial 911. She spoke into the receiver: Yeah, Im being surrounded by a group of scammers trying to extort me. You need to get here fast. I'm at...

She gave the intersection, hung up, and shot me a venomous look.

Just lay there. Let's see how long you can keep up this act once the police get here!

I tried to push myself up to sit, but a blinding flash of pain shot through my chest. I groaned and sank back down.

She laughed. Look at that. Didn't I tell you? Shes faking. You tell her to stand up and she can't, but watch her run the second the cops show up!

She kicked the heel of my boot. Get up! Come on, show us your little performance!

Cold sweat poured down my face. I couldn't breathe, let alone speak.

The guy who had defended me stepped in front of her. Don't touch her! Look at her face, shes bleeding!

Bleeding? Where? She leaned in close. A tiny scratch on her lip? You call that bleeding? If she dies of old age right now, do I have to buy her coffin too?

The crowd grew larger.

This girl is psycho.

Seriously, shes completely wasted.

I smell the booze from here. Shes drunk off her mind.

She heard them. She spun around, screaming at the crowd. So what if I've been drinking? Does that mean she gets to scam me? If anyone else opens their mouth, Ill sue you too!

The crowd went quiet.

Satisfied, she nodded, pulled a pack of cigarettes from her purse, lit one, and leaned against the streetlight pole to smoke.

While we waited for the police, shed occasionally kick my foot. Get up. Stop embarrassing yourself on the street!

I clamped my teeth together and stayed silent.

It hurt so much.

My back felt like it was on fire, and my chest felt like it was crushed under a boulder. I didn't dare move. I was terrified that if I did, a broken bone would puncture my lung.

A few minutes later, a cruiser pulled up.

Two officers got out. When they saw me lying on the pavement, the blood dried on my face and my uniform torn open, the younger officer's brow furrowed.

What happened here? he asked.

She threw her cigarette down and ran to him. Officer! Thank God you're here. They're gang-pressing me!

She pointed at me. She threw herself in front of my scooter, scraped it, and now shes refusing to get up because she wants a cash payout!

Then she pointed at the guy who defended me. And him! Hes her partner. He threatened me, saying hed put me in jail!

The guys face turned white with rage. What are you talking about? When did I threaten you?

See? See! Hes yelling at me right in front of you! Imagine what he was doing before you got here!

The younger officer held up a hand. Calm down. One at a time. He walked over to me and knelt down. Maam, can you speak?

I nodded.

Tell me what happened.

I gasped for air, the pain in my chest flaring up, but I forced the words out. I had to make him understand.

She hit me with her scooter. She ripped my vest. I just said, Sweetheart, watch out, and she turned around and hit me.

She slapped me, yanked my hair, kicked me down, and punched me in the chest. Then she dragged me by my arms across the road.

I didn't touch her scooter. I wasn't trying to scam anyone.

The officer looked at the tear in my vest. He stood up and faced her. Have you been drinking?

She blinked. Just a little.

Did you hit her with your scooter?

No! She jumped out of nowhere! She walked right into me!

But your handlebar ripped her vest, didn't it?

She hesitated. That... that was an accident when I slammed on the brakes. But then she started cornering me! Screaming that I couldn't leave, demanding money, threatening to call the cops!

Her eyes began to well with tears.

Officer, Im just a college student. Shes a grown adult bullying a kid. What was I supposed to do? I barely tapped her, and she threw herself on the ground and refused to move.

Listening to her lie, my body began to tremble violently with rage.

I never said those things! I never asked for money!

She glared at me. You know exactly what you did!

The guy who had stepped in spoke up. Officer, I saw the whole thing from start to finish. This girl was riding her electric scooter, swerving all over the place. The lady tried to get out of her way, but the handlebar caught her vest and tore it.

The lady just said, Sweetheart, watch out, and this girl slapped her. Then she started beating her.

She dragged her all the way from over there to herenearly twenty feet. A bunch of us saw it.

Youre all in on it! she screamed, her eyes red.

The officer held up his hand to quiet her. That's enough. He studied her flushed face, catching the scent. How much did you have to drink?

Just two beers.

Two beers don't leave you smelling like a distillery.

She went quiet.

The officer called for an ambulance.

While we waited, she kept muttering, I can just give her two hundred bucks. Does it really need to be this big of a deal? Old people these days are obsessed with suing everyone.

Two hundred dollars.

She broke me, and she thought two hundred dollars would fix it.

Ive swept the streets at this intersection for three years. I wake up at four every morning. I make fifteen dollars an hour, barely twenty-three hundred a month.

And she thought she could brush me off with two hundred dollars.

No. She didn't even want to give me that. She felt like even offering two hundred was an act of charity.

The ambulance arrived.

As they lifted me onto the stretcher, the tears finally came.

Not because of the pain. But because of the sheer, suffocating humiliation.

I am a sixty-year-old woman. Ive spent half my life working hard, never picked a fight, never taken a penny that wasn't mine. She beat me, dragged me, and then accused me of being a thief.

Who gave her the right?

In the ER, the doctor peeled back my shirt. His expression changed instantly.

Get her to CT immediately.

My son ran in, drenched in sweat. Mom! Mom, what happened?

I saw his eyes fill with tears.

I said, I'm okay, sweetheart. Just got into a little scuffle.

When the doctor came back with the CT scans, he called my son out into the hallway.

Through the thin curtain, I heard him: Fractures to the third, fourth, fifth, and sixth ribs on the right side... fourth, fifth, and sixth on the left... pulmonary contusion... extensive road rash across her back...

Seven.

She had broken seven of my bones.

As the nurse prepped my IV, my son stood by the bed, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles popped.

Mom, who did this to you?

I said, A young girl.

What young girl?

She was riding a scooter. Shed been drinking.

Why did she hit you?

I didn't have an answer. Because I didn't know why.

All I had said was, Sweetheart, watch out. Just those three words.

And for that, she beat me.

She beat me for ten minutes, broke seven of my ribs, and dragged me across the asphalt. And when she was done, she called me a scammer and thought two hundred dollars would buy my silence.

My son was out in the hall making a call. His voice was booming, echoing through the ward: You beat an elderly woman so badly shes in the hospital with seven broken ribs! Where the hell are you? What do you mean, calm down? Tell that girl to come look at what she did!

He came back in, sat by my bed, and stared at the floor, silent.

I reached out and touched his hand. Don't be angry, Luke.

He looked up, his eyes bloodshot. Mom, why didn't you run?

I couldn't. She had me by the hair.

What about the people around? Nobody stopped her?

Someone tried. She just screamed at him too.

He fell silent again.

After a long while, he said, The police said shes been booked. Felony assault.

Okay.

Did she even know what she was doing when she was hitting you?

She was drunk.

Being drunk isn't an excuse.

I shook my head. It wasn't.

Maybe the first blow was the alcohol. But the second, the third, the tenth? She knew exactly what she was doing. She knew what she was doing when she grabbed my hair and dragged me. She knew what she was doing when she lied to the police.

The surgery took three hours.

Once the anesthesia wore off, the pain hit. It was unlike anything I had ever felt beforethe kind of pain where every single breath felt like broken glass scraping inside my chest.

I lay there, completely paralyzed. My back was bandaged, my chest bound tight, an IV dripping into my arm.

Every two hours, the nurse came to check my vitals. Don't try to move, sweetheart. Just rest.

I didn't want to move. I couldn't.

On the third afternoon, she showed up.

She wasn't alone. Her mother was with her.

The two of them stood in the doorway, holding a fruit basket and a carton of milk.

The mother was dressed elegantlyexpensive clothes, styled hair, gold bracelets clinking on her wrist. A woman of privilege. The girl stood behind her, head bowed, her face hidden.

The mother stepped in first, a warm, practiced smile on her face. Hello, maam. I'm Diane, Haileys mother. We wanted to come see how you were doing.

I said nothing.

She set the fruit basket on the bedside table, pulled up a chair, and sighed. Maam, we are so incredibly sorry about what happened. Hailey was young, foolish, and had a bit too much to drink. She made a terrible mistake. As her parents, we feel absolutely sick about this.

I watched her, remaining silent.

She continued, The doctors say your injuries are quite severe. We want to cover all of your medical expenses, of course. And on top of that, we'd like to offer you fifty thousand dollars as a personal settlement. How does that sound?

Fifty thousand.

Her daughter had shattered seven of my ribs, beaten me for ten minutes, and dragged me across the street. And her mother thought fifty thousand dollars would make it go away.

We'll handle any physical therapy you need later, too. Whatever you need, just let us know.

Diane turned back toward the door. Hailey, get in here.

The girl stepped forward.

I finally got a clear look at her.

Twenty-two. Petite, slender, ponytail, wearing a gray hoodie, jeans, and sneakers. She looked like any ordinary college student. If I hadn't burned her face into my memory, I would never have believed she was the monster who had pinned me down and pounded my chest with her fists.

Her mother nudged her. Say it.

She looked up briefly, then looked back down at her shoes.

I'm sorry, ma'am. Her voice was barely a whisper.

Louder, her mother commanded.

I'm sorry! I really didn't mean to. I was just so drunk that night, I totally blacked out. I don't remember any of it. When I woke up, I was already at the precinct. I swear Im not that kind of person. I would never do something like that if I were sober.

Drunk. Blacked out. Doesn't remember.

As I listened to her, my chest began to throb again. Not my ribs, but my heart.

She broke seven of my bones, and she wanted to erase it with three cheap excuses?

Her mother chimed in: You see, maam, shes truly remorseful. Shes apologizing from the bottom of her heart. Please, find it in your heart to forgive her this once. Shes still just a kid. She hasn't even graduated college yet. If she gets a criminal record, her entire life is ruined. She's twenty-two with a bright future. We can't let one bad night destroy everything shes worked for. You have a child of your own. Im sure you understand how a mother feels.

I listened to every single word, letting them hang in the sterile air.

She broke my bones, and now she was worried about her life being ruined.

When she was beating me, did she stop to think that I was someone's mother too? When she lied to the police, did she think about the consequences? When she stood outside the precinct complaining about a two-hundred-dollar payout, did she think about her precious future?

I looked at the mother and daughter.

My voice was quiet, but every syllable was sharp: No.

The mother froze. Excuse me?

I said, I will not sign a release. I do not forgive her.

The smile on Dianes face vanished, replaced by a strained, desperate grin. Maam, please, lets not be hasty. We can negotiate. Whatever you want. One hundred thousand? Two hundred thousand? Name your price.

I don't want your money.

Then what do you want?

I want her in prison.