Lost With Lust

"Wait wait wait, back the truck up, hun. What you're saying just don't add up! " Nigel shouted at a girl huddled up on the couch. She was frantically rubbing her bruised head, exhaling rapidly as her asthma kicked in. To her, the room was a swirling mass of indistinguishable colors and sounds. Nigel moves closer to her and kneels in front of her, tears running down the sides of his face with vigor.
"Where did he hit you?! And why?! What aren't you telling me, Liana?" He strokes her cheek. His face is flush with rage and sadness and confusion--he doesn't quite know how to feel right now. "If that bastard so much as put his hands on you, you know I would've murdered him! Why the bloody hell didn't you come to me?" She struggled with her airflow--her lungs were beginning to lock up on her as she struggled to maintain the panic flooding her mind.
It was all so clear.

The door to their apartment bursts open--an man with a red jacket and blue jeans walks into the room. "The hell're you guys doin'? Show ain't over, what's goin' on?"
Nigel looks frantically from Liane to Bruce, and then back to Liane. "She got hit by that guy in the corner. I dunno his name, though. I don't even know what happened, she hasn't been able to speak since she came over to me. I brought her here as quickly as possible." Bruce walks over to them and presses his hand against her forehead, and then proceeds to press his ear against her chest.

"Bro, her breathing's raggedy 'n shit. Somethin' ain't right. Call the ambulance or whatever you do in emergencies." Nigel stood quickly and strode over to the phone. He clumsily punched in the number, constantly having to redo it due to his haste.

"What do I tell them?" He asks, a sweat breaking out on his face.
"Why would I know, foo'? She dyin' or whatever, tell 'em something that gon' get 'em ova here quickly, bro! She ain't gon' last much longer like this, man!"