Authors: Shantea Gauthier
chapter 9
I woke up in a hospital.
Sandra’s blonde head bobbed drowsily on the arm of a very uncomfortable looking chair nearby. I tried to move, but the pull of bandages and rubber tubing discouraged me.
"What happened?" I tried to ask. It hurt to breathe, and only an awful hiss of pain came out.
Sandra's head popped up and her hand flew to the call button. "Holy crap, you're awake! Shh, don’t try to talk. What the hell happened? Don’t die!"
I wasn't sure if I was supposed to answer or be quiet, so I stayed quiet. I didn’t feel like talking anyway. If I could have avoided breathing altogether, I would have preferred it.
A man in a white coat came into the room. I guessed he was the doctor, but I couldn’t focus on his name badge, so he could have been the janitor for all I knew. I’d have to remember to thank Sandra for being there.
"Hi, Jade," he said gently. "How are you feeling?"
I opened my mouth to answer but all that came out was a rush of air. Pain blinded me. I pulled in a difficult, shaky breath. "Been better," I finally managed.
"I'll bet," said the doctor. "You've torn the cartilage in your chest. It separated from your rib bones."
"I know that," Sandra complained. "What do we do about it?"
The doctor shot her an annoyed look with piercing black eyes. I would have to really thank Sandra for being so pushy on my behalf.
Sandra turned pink. "Right, she didn’t know that yet. The whole unconscious thing."
"So," I grunted. "What do we do?”
"Now that you're awake we'll get some meds going in your IV for that fever and some pain management."
I looked desperately at Sandra.
"Then what?" she asked.
"Then whenever you want, you go home and rest. I'll write you a prescription for pain management and you wait for it to heal."
"That's… it?" I rasped.
"That's it?" Sandra echoed, if echoes could be louder than the original. "You can't, like, fix it?"
The doctor smiled the "what a cute little blonde" smile that people sometimes gave Sandra and explained, "There is nothing we can do but manage the symptoms and give it time. Some people find that a compression bandage helps prevent the ribs from slipping out of place and makes it feel more stable."
"How long does she have to stay?" Sandra asked, reading the look written all over my face.
"Just a couple of hours," the doctor said. "We have a specialist coming in to ask a few questions about how this happened. Once the fever is gone and she feels comfortable, she can leave. If you need anything else, or if you start to feel worse, press the call button and a nurse will be right in."
I blinked my acknowledgement. Sandra patted my hand.
"Don't worry babe, I've got Jack cleaning up the room for you. I made sure there was nothing incriminating where he could find it."
I tried to smile.
“You should really work on getting some incriminating stuff,” she said, trying to cheer me up. “I mean, all that I had to hide was your underwear. It makes you look kind of boring.”
I tried to suppress a laugh, but squealed in pain when I failed and tears rushed to my eyes. Sandra panicked, apologized, and turned her face up to the TV. Her wide, guilty eyes darted between the TV and me, checking to see if she’d caused any lasting pain. I had to look up at the TV to stop from laughing at her.
The muted TV’s captions revealed that the news anchor was pointing out that they were calling the killer "The Beast of Hollywood" even though only one of the three attacks was in the Hollywood area.
"Make that one of four," an onsite news anchor said. A field of dead grass waved behind her. "Another attack in the valley last night; happened right behind where I am standing now. This victim; like the others, appeared to be cut cleanly and was missing a portion of flesh, bone, and organs. Local authorities are not releasing images or the victim’s name just yet, but we'll get back to you as soon as they do."
The screen flashed back to the studio where the anchor gave out his safety tips. Don't go out alone, especially at night. Stay out of the hills at night. If you see a mountain lion, make yourself look bigger. If you are in a group, stay together and collectively look as big as possible by sitting on shoulders, opening jackets wide and standing up straight. Don't carry food into the hills. Make sure you know where your children are at all times and do not let them go into the hills at night.
The captions blurred and flickered and the tiny movement of my eyes back and forth across the screen made me woozy.
I twitched my fingers in the general direction of the trash can, hoping Sandra would understand.
“Oh, no,” she said. She grabbed a kidney pan from the counter and set it to one side of my head.
I grunted my thanks and my stomach took the kidney pan’s presence as permission to heave. Nothing came up.
"Just turn your head if you need to puke and I'll uh… I'll do what I can." She could handle mummified child corpses with glee, but she would probably have to leave the room if I threw up. She was not supportive of those engaged in vomiting unless she was very drunk.
A fluffy news piece about a group of high school students who organized a "puppy parade" to raise funds for a new school library came on and Sandra and I both tried to watch that and ignore my horrible retching. Just as I was dozing, the "specialist" arrived.
The doctor introduced us. "Jade, this is Dr. Advarin. Dr. Advarin, this is Jade." He turned to Sandra. "This is her interpreter," he said, smiling. "Sandra."
Dr. Advarin, about twice my age and at least twice my weight, nodded without smiling. Her waxy orange lipstick looked like it was sealing her lips shut.
"It's nice to meet you, Jade."
I blinked in greeting.
"It's nice to meet you too," Sandra said, filling in the role of interpreter.
"I understand that you were hurt last night. Can you tell me a little bit about that?" Her kindergarten-teacher tone grated on me.
"Chair," I croaked.
"It happened tripping over a chair," Sandra said. "The chair was broken this morning. So was the window."
Dr. Advarin ignored her. "What happened to your ribs before the chair? There was a lot of old bruising, and some cuts that were almost healed. Who did that?"
A vampire,
I thought.
But I can’t tell
you
that.
I looked at Sandra, who was looking at me intently after hearing the news. "Was it that Simon guy?" she asked.
I shook my head. "It was my fault." I winced, half in pain, half in the realization that the words would be misinterpreted horribly. "I mean it was an accident. He wasn't even there."
"Some of the bruising is indicative of a fist," Dr. Advarin said. "You mean someone punched you on accident? The size suggests that it was a man's fist and that he was pretty strong. After a hit like that, and the one that cause the earliest bruising, it is completely possible that a tumble over a chair could cause an injury like this."
"I'll kill him," Sandra growled.
I closed my eyes, feeling the cool new fluids entering my veins. Like magic, the pain started to fade. I thought of Harold, telling me that all blood is magical.
When I didn’t say anything, Dr. Advarin said gently, "Sometimes we feel the need to protect people who hurt us because we think that they were justified in doing so. Something like this is never justified, and the only way to make it stop is to let us know what happened so that we can help."
I shot a desperate look to Sandra, who ignored it until I started to try to sit up. She sighed and said, "She wants to know if there's some sort of doctor patient confidentiality thing."
Dr. Advarin pushed a strand of hair away from her round face and smiled. "I am obligated to report anything related to child or elderly abuse, thoughts of suicide, or anything directly related to a violent crime."
I looked at Sandra again, hoping she would get my meaning.
"What about things like- okay,
hypothetically
speaking- the people who got tied up trying to steal the wrong car? Did you see that on the news or wherever? Is something –
hypothetically
– something
like
that considered a violent crime?"
"No," Dr. Advarin responded. "I would not be obligated to report that if you were involved."
"I was," I croaked. "One of them punched me. The one on the no left turn sign."
The doctor just nodded. "And what happened to the area before that?"
"Walked into a rail," I lied.
Slowly, with a long sigh, she set her pen down. She knew I was lying. I knew she knew. Neither of us cared. “If you ever want to talk about it, give me a call."
She handed me a business card and left.
I was free to go as soon as my fever dipped low enough and I was high on whatever juice they’d pumped into my veins. Sandra handled most of the paperwork for me, practically holding my hand to sign my name and initial for what felt like an hour of dull pain.
Sandra, Jack, and Cole helped me into Sandra's old van. Back at home, they helped me across the glass-free floor into the fresh bedding.
Jessica smiled at me from across the room, barely visible beyond the flowers and presents on the night stand. She raised a porcelain bell. "I am your personal slave until three," she said. "Just ring this bell and I'll come running. Whatever you want."
I gave a pitiful smile and tried to say that she didn't have to, that I didn't want her to, but my mouth wouldn't open. Instead, I closed my eyes and fell asleep.
I woke up and reached for the bell. The small movement made my body sing with pain that I didn’t even know was possible. I rang the bell and Jessica appeared. Apparently it was still before three.
"What… meds?" I rasped.
"Sandra said that you can take two pills in about an hour, but not before that. I can get you some water though. And I can help you open your presents!"
I allowed her to help me sip a cup of water.
"You saved my life," she said. "I'll always be thankful to you for that. I'll be back after midnight, whether you want me or not, and as often as I can be while you're healing from this. Here, open this one. It's from me."
She handed me a carefully wrapped shirt box tied with a satin ribbon. I stared at it hopelessly and she turned bright red. "I'm sorry, I didn't think about it, here, I'll unwrap it."
She unwrapped and opened it for me and pulled out a slinky red and black nightgown.
"I know it's kind of weird to get something like this for you, but Sandra told me your nighty got all ruined and this one made me think of you. Red is so your color, and I kind of knew your size from borrowing your bikini. I mean, I knew that you were taller than me and your boobs are bigger at least." She was as red as the garment she held. "It was probably stupid. I'm so weird, I know, but… You saved my life. And it
was
like, yesterday."
"I love it," I gasped, honestly. It was perfect for me. Maybe she wasn't so bad after all.
"Good," she said. "Here. This ones from Jack and Cole."
She opened a plastic grocery bag and pulled out a bakery box with four cupcakes and a pair of stretchy bandages. I smiled. Sandra probably told them what to buy.
"This one's from Sandra."
A bottle of pain killers and a romance novel. I recognized the book as one she had just finished reading.
"There's one more," Jessica said. "It says to Soda Pants from Friend. We kind of assumed it was for you because it says get well soon on the box."
Inside the box was a necklace. The pendant was a cross made out of two fat, black nails held together with wire.
"How weird," Jessica said, before she shook her head at her own insensitivity. "Sorry, it's just-."
"Weird," I confirmed hoarsely. But if Simon sent it, it could mean anything. It probably meant I should put it on. "I'll wear it now."
Jessica slipped the chain over my head and helped me take another sip of water. After triple checking that I would be okay, she set out a pair of pills next to a small cup of water and promised that she would be back at midnight. She handed me a remote for the TV that Jack moved into the room, and the last thing I remembered was the screen coming to life before I fell asleep.
I woke up before midnight. My shoulder burned like I was on fire. My ribs felt like they were all broken. A fresh wave of pain washed through my entire body when I reached for the pills. I balanced them on my dry tongue and swallowed both pills and the cup of water in one gulp. I nervously watched the curtains blow over the open window and thought that I would never sleep again.
I jumped and whimpered when Sandra came into the room, then tried to force my muscles and mind to relax when I realized that I was still safe.