Page 28 of Don't Look Away

The receptionist knocks on a door with a window, but the blinds are closed, so there’s no seeing inside.

“Come in,” someone calls out from the other side of the door.

The receptionist cracks the door open, sticking her head inside. “Roman Rush is here for James Chandler.”

“Okay, let him in.”

The receptionist opens the door wider, encouraging me to step inside. Beyond the threshold is a small, white office that looks like it hasn’t been updated since the 60’s. There’s a metal desk in the center of the room, a metal file cabinet, and a plain white clock bolted to the white brick wall. No personal touches at all.

Behind the metal desk is a middle-aged woman with brown hair, pulled back into a bun, and glasses. I take a seat in the empty chair in front of her desk before being invited to do so, but she doesn’t seem to notice or care.

“Mr. Rush,” she says with a stiff smile. “My name is Dr. Ortiz, and I’m the Senior Physician here, and this morning, there was an incident involving your brother.”

“Okay,” I say, my tone urging her to continue. My chest feels tight, and I struggle to pull in a full breath. “Is he okay?”

“He got ahold of a piece of metal, which he was able to fashion into a knife.” She pauses. “He used it to cut himself, so he’s been taken to medical for treatment.”

She glosses over the incident so quickly, I struggle to understand what she’s saying. “What do you mean ‘cut himself?’ How bad is it?”

“The wounds are to his wrists. We think it was a suicide attempt.”

She delivers that blow so matter-of-factly, that I wonder if this woman has any feelings at all.

“You’re sure it wasn’t someone else, making it look like he was trying to hurt himself?” I ask. I’m just struggling to understand why James would do something like that. He hasn’t said anything to me about being suicidal.

“We have cameras in each of the pods, and no one was seen going to his cell during the time of the incident.”

I sink back in the chair and blow out a breath. “Is he okay?” I ask again because she still hasn’t answered that question.

Dr. Ortiz leans forward and clasps her hands together. “He lost a lot of blood,” she says. “And he’s received several transfusions, but he should recover.”

Thank God. I blow out a breath, relieved. “Can I see him?”

“Unfortunately, that’s not possible for security reasons. But as soon as he’s given the all-clear, he’ll be transported back to his pod, and he can participate in regular visits.”

“Wait, transported back to the pod? You just said he tried to hurt himself. Isn’t there any counseling or mental health services you can provide for him?”

“He’ll be placed on a suicide hold for twenty-four hours before he’s given the all-clear to return.”

She says that like it’s meant to placate me. It doesn’t. It does the opposite, actually. It pisses me off. “So, no services. That’s what you’re telling me?”

Dr. Ortiz stands up, pushes her chair back, and holds out her hand. “The nurse will keep in touch. We’ll be sure to let you know of any changes”

I stand as well. “If it’s a cost issue, I can assure you, that’s not a problem. My family is very wealthy. I can make sure you’re personally compensated for any trouble.”

James and I were taught the art of bribery at a young age. We learned it right alongside our ABCs. It’s a necessity in my world. Nothing happens without money. Nothing.

Dr. Ortiz’s eyes narrow, her hand still extended. “Thank you for stopping by. Mr. Rush.”

My jaw tight, I shake her hand because she’s taking care of my brother. Were it not for that, I’d have a lot more to fucking say. Moving to the door, I turn around before pulling it open, remembering the question I’d forgotten to ask. “Did he tell you why he did it?”

“Ah,” she says, holding up a finger, like I’ve reminded her of something. Reaching into her top drawer, she hands me a folded scrap of paper. It has a smear of blood in the corner. “He had that in his hand when he was found. It’s already been through security, so feel free to take it.”

Then she sits back down, and picks up the phone, completely forgetting I even exist.Wow.Fucking cunt. If she hadn’t saved my brother’s life, I’d be tempted to tell her off. People don’t treat me like this in my world.

As I walk back to the car, I open the note, and read it, my hands shaking.

I’m sorry, my love. I haven’t heard from you, and I just can’t bear the silence. This place is killing me, and every day without you is torture. Please forgive me for leaving you in this world alone…

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