Page 15 of Dying for the Doctor

And I sure as hell don’t understand myself.

Don’t understand why there’s a smile plastered on my paralyzed face.

Don’t understand why there’s a warm glow in my excited heart.

Don’t understand why I’m burrowing against his body as he carries me out the door, carries me away like a possessive dragon, white lab-coat wings flying like battle-flags behind him as my consciousness goes in and out, mostly out as that sedative finally overwhelms me, dragging me down into what started as a woman’s worst nightmare and is now a damsel’s most delightful daydream.

The dream of being swept off her feet, carried across the threshold, ferried across the oceans, protected like a princess, fortified by her savior’s love.

“I love you too, Drake,” comes the mumbling murmur through my gummy-worm lips, followed by a drunken grin that’s wet with drool. Licking my lips, I cackle once, cough twice, then sigh as I feel Drake carry me across the room. Obviously this is a drug-induced hallucination, just a waking dream. So it’s fine to say ridiculously unrealistic things like I love him and I’m his. Because he’s saying those things too. So it’s that kind of dream where everyone says things that make no sense in the real world but are totally obvious in this silly dream world. “I love you too, Doctor Drake. Now will you heal me, please? Heal me!”

“What the hell?” comes someone’s bewildered voice from near the smashed room door. “What the fuck just happened here, Doctor Drake?”

“Get out of my way,” comes Drake’s reply through my dream, which is rapidly becoming irritatingly real.

Why aren’t we flying through the air on Drake’s dragon-wings? Very annoying dream. I thought I was in control of this dream. Now I’m sulky and pouty, and I roll my eyeballs towards the intrusive ogre blocking the exit to our happily-ever-after.

It’s one of those burly security guys, and he’s staring at the missing window, now gaping at my gummy-worm grin, finally shaking his head and rubbing his beard and shaking his head again as Drake orders him once more to get out of the way.

“Can’t do that, Doctor Drake,” says Security-Ogre. “What the hell happened to Doctor Lenworth?”

Drake shrugs with me in his arms. “He jumped.”

Security-Beast’s eyebrows rise like two wriggly worms. His gaze darts to the broken window. He takes a deep breath, lets it out slow, like maybe he’s realizing we’re all in the same dream-world where crazy things are normal and logic doesn’t apply. “Lenworth . . . jumped? Through a closed window? You know these windows don’t open, right?”

Drake glances casually at the window, then shrugs back at Security-Minion. “Well, the window’s obviously open now, isn’t it? Get out of my way, man. You know who I am, right? You know who my father is, yeah?”

Now fear streaks across Security-Stooge’s bearded face. He rubs his beard feverishly, then reaches for his walkie-talkie with fumbling fingers. Raising it to his lips, he hesitates and looks at me.

At first I don’t understand why he’s frowning quizzically in my direction.

Then I realize it’s because I’m speaking.

Or at least doing my best impression of a human trying to make sounds that resemble words in the English language.

“He did jump,” I finally manage to say, the words coming out garbled but comprehensible. “Doctor Lenworth jumped right through that window, head-first like one of those divers at the Olympics. Did you watch the Olympics this year? Oh wait, that was last year, I think. What year is it? Your beard looks itchy. My lips taste like gummy-worms. Without the sugar. Sugar is bad for you. But it tastes so good. So sweet. Cho chweeet!”

Security-Grump stares like I’m a talking unicorn. He scratches that itchy-looking beard, rubs the back of his thick neck, then takes a long, hard look at Drake. “Look, I know who your dad is, Drake. And I sure as hell don’t want to get in the middle of his business. But what the fuck am I supposed to do here, man? I can’t just let you walk out of here. Especially not carrying a patient who is obviously not in her senses.”

“Not in her sensibles? Excuse me, sir, how dare you! I am very sense and sensibilities. I mean pride and prejudices. I mean—” My indignant retort is cut short by Drake’s big palm clamping over my lips. I try to chew my way out, but it appears hopeless, so I simply mumble to myself.

“Here’s what you’re going to do,” Drake says with calm authority to the security guy. “You get on that walkie, tell the rest of the security team that there’s been an accident out in the rear parking lot, that it appears Doctor Lenworth has jumped and needs immediate medical attention.”

Security-Dude gulps, then glances at the shattered room-door, wood splinters all over the floor, streaks of blood from Lenworth’s smashed nose crisscrossing the tiles like sticky-red paint. “And the door? What do I tell the cops about how the damn door got broken?”

Drake shrugs. “You didn’t see how the door got broken. You didn’t see a damn thing.” Now I feel Drake’s voice take on a threatening growl, a low rumble that makes me shiver with a strange comfort, like it makes me feel safe to know that my protector can scare other men, dominate other men. “You didn’t see a damn thing. All you know is that when you got to the room, it was empty and Lenworth had jumped. That’s all you know. That’s all you saw.”

Security-Man swallows hard, takes a deep breath, exhales nervously. He glances at the camera, then shakes his head. “What about the cameras? And the nurse at the reception desk saw you heading towards this room, Drake. That’s why he called me up here in the first place.”

“That nurse only saw me walking down the hallway and turning the corner. He didn’t actually see me enter this room because you can’t see this room door from the reception desk.” Drake takes a breath. “As for the cameras, well, they’re dead. And you will be too if you don’t do what I say.” Drake’s voice oozes with deadly authority. “You know about my Family Business, right? You want to be on our list of friends or enemies? Because you get to choose right now, buddy. You want us to owe you a favor? Or you want us to come knocking on your door in the middle of the night?”

Security-Guy swallows thickly, nods once, then glances at me with raised eyebrows, a questioning look like he’s scared of Drake but is also decent enough that he’s concerned for my safety. After all, I’m clearly under the influence of some drug—even though I’m pretty sure the buzzing in my body isn’t just from the sedative.

Now it hits me that I need to speak up, to make it clear that I want to go with Drake, that I’m checking myself out, thank you very much. But I’m obviously drugged, my speech slurry, my eyes glazed and gooey, my lips glued and gummy.

Then suddenly I know what to do.

Moving my head so Drake takes his palm off my mouth, I do my best to speak clearly to the security guard.

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