Page 89 of Unspoken Lies
“It’s just a sedative,” the doctor sighs as if I’m the drama queen in this. “Is someone taking care of the nurse in there?”
“Oh yeah,” someone mumbles, walking to check on her. Everything is beginning to get very fuzzy and I sag in the arms of the orderly behind me.
“There we go,” the doctor mutters. “Take her to the seclusion chamber. She needs time to chill out, away from everyone else.”
“Ah, I think we’re going to need an ambulance, doctor,” a voice complains as my knees buckle underneath me. The orderly lifts me, ignoring the voice, and begins to move my body without help.
“Let me take a look,” the doctor says, his voice getting farther away as my eye lids threaten to close. This sedative is hitting me hard. “Well, fuck. There’s no pulse. We can’t afford anymore attention this week. I’ll have to call someone to quietly take her to the hospital morgue. She’s dead.”
I can’t feel anything about her death, my entire body is cocooned in numbness as I float.
“What happened? Is that blood?” a voice I know asks. I gurgle as drool slips from my lips as I’m dragged away. “Who cut her hair?”
“One of the nurses had her own mental breakdown,” the orderly says as my eyes continue to close.
No. I want to know whose voice that is.Fuck, why do I know that voice?
“Tell her husband today isn’t a good day. Tomorrow or the next day won’t be either. She’s getting stuck in isolation,” the orderly carrying me grunts.
While I know I’m not heavy, I’m essentially dead weight. I can’t help it, and if I wasn’t drugged, I doubt I would be helping him even then.
Who is this husband they keep talking about? When did I get married?
“Shh, just let the sedative do its thing,” the orderly murmurs.
“What’s isolation?” the familiar voice asks.
“It’s a small space where we stick unruly patients,” the orderly says before the darkness finally pulls me under.
CHAPTER 22
JARED
“I’m sorry, sir. Your wife was combative today and is unable to see you. She’s currently in isolation,” Dr. Simmons says apologetically.
I’ve been coming here for two weeks, since the second the paperwork went live with our marriage certificate, but they’ve continually pushed me off. Elijah comes home to tell us how she is, however, it doesn’t help because of the way the medication makes her lethargic and out of it.
He’s been here as often as they call him in. He goes to school, comes here, and then insists on pulling his weight at the club. There are days like today where he doesn’t have class and can come in earlier. It doesn’t matter how often we tell him something has to give, he refuses to listen. Elijah is obsessed with being here for her.
I don’t blame him when the staff act as if Rachelle is an errant child who isn’t behaving. There are few reasons why she’d act out and hit someone, especially if they’re keeping her as dopedup as Elijah has said. Every day, we debrief each other on video chat with Mr. Reyes, Ignacio, and Liliana.
It’s an odd experience when we’ve been at odds with each other for so long. I still believe Rachelle’s step-father would kill me and not bat an eye if I ever truly pissed him off. Right now, I have value as Rachelle’s fake husband.
And I’m fucking it all up.
“She’s not five years old and I am not a toy you’re taking away,” I say calmly, despite the way my ears are ringing and my heart pounds with fury. “I have jumped through every hoop you’ve presented. However, it’s way over the seventy-two hour hold and she hasn’t had a medical trial with a judge or advocate to be released.”
I know the law, despite not being as well versed on it as Theo. Rachelle’s rights are being violated and shredded before my eyes.
Dr. Simmons gives me a condescending smile, and suddenly I want to punch him. He has the misfortune of not being the least bit likeable. Every part of him is annoying.
“When you’re as ill as your wife is, your rights greatly diminish,” he says, shrugging. Leaning forward, he whispers, “She stabbed a nurse, sir. She’s lucky we aren’t pressing charges against her.”
“Please press charges,” I snarl, feeling my calm unraveling. “Then at least we’ll get in front of a judge so we can have our day in court. There’s not a soul alive who would put my wife into any type of jail. She shouldn’t be here at all. I want to see her.”
“All of your fancy money isn’t any good here,” the doctor says with a shrug. “This place is state and independently funded by donors. We were attempting to get a visit for you with her as a courtesy. She’s simply not stable enough.”
Frowning at him, I nod. “This is my last attempt to play nicely,” I state. “I will be doubling my efforts to get a judge to step in.”
