Page 10 of Web of Lies
I shake my head again, slowly, and my breath catches shallowly in my chest.
“You don't remember, do you?”
“I wouldn't–”
He barks a laugh. “You don't. You aren't remembering a lot of things. You wouldn't take your medication if I didn't bring it to you.”
That's something else. I did see a doctor right after I lost my Dad. I remember that. He gave me something for anxiety. But I thought it was only supposed to be for a couple weeks. “Maybe I don't need it anymore.”
Adrian rolls his eyes. “You do, babe. You do this every time you get upset. I'm only trying to take care of you.”
Do I? I don't remember doing anything. Am I really losing as much time as he's telling me I am? I've never had any of the problems I'm having before. “I don't understand, Adrian. I don't know what you're talking about.” And I'm starting to feel shaky and slow again. Confusion isn't the only thing creeping over me right now. I'm starting to be afraid.
Adrian takes my hand in his and brings my knuckles to brush against his lips. “I know, sweetheart. I know. I'll help you.”
Chapter Five
Larken
Her name is Anne. She gets here every morning an hour before Adrian leaves for work and she stays until about half an hour after he gets home. She is supposed to help me. I don't think that's what she's doing, though.
She might make sure I have access to food and drink, and she makes me change into new clothes every day, but she doesn't do much helping. What she does is push. She pushes me to eat faster. She pushes me to “dress the part”, whatever that means. She pushes me to take all the extra vitamins and supplements that she and Adrian have decided I need.
I still haven't seen a doctor. Adrian swears he's making appointments, and Anne backs him up. I have to believe them. What purpose would there be in lying about that? If I could find my phone I'd call and make the appointments myself. Adrian has brought it to me several times. He plugs it in to charge overnight and puts it on the nightstand. I remember him doing it, but it isn't there the next morning. I've asked Anne if she's seen it but she just pats my hand and tells me not to worry about any silly phone.
I've been falling more and I'm having trouble concentrating on a single thought for very long. I've also been more muddled than ever before. So much so, that it took me several tries to sign off on some office supplies yesterday. It felt like I couldn't focus on holding the pen, much less signing my name on the line. It upset me so much that I became agitated. I feel like such a failure. What would my Dad think if he saw the mess I've become?
Anne roughly pushes on my shoulder the next morning to wake me up. “You need to get up now, Mrs. Nash. It's time for your medication.”
I keep my eyes closed tightly, my brows wrinkling as I shake my head to try to clear out some of the heaviness. “Wait,” I mumble. “I need to eat with it. It makes me sick if I don't.”
She pushes my shoulder again and starts yanking the blanket down. “Come on, now. Sit up. It's time to start the day.”
“Anne,” I say more firmly. “I am not a child. I am capable of waking up on my own time and on my own terms.” It would probably carry a little more bite if I didn't feel like there was cotton in my mouth.
She sighs and puts her hands on her hips. “I'm here to help you, Mrs. Nash. Please don't make that any more difficult than it is.”
Difficult? How is it difficult? I mostly sleep or stare out of the window if I'm in a cycle of insomnia. “I am not being difficult, Anne. I'm just not ready to get up and I don't enjoy being shoved out of bed. Nobody does. Probably not even you.”
Her lips press together in a tight line. “Mr. Nash has instructed that you are to be up, dressed, and fed before his morning call. I'm just following instructions.”
Morning call? “What morning call?” Adrian hasn't called me mid-morning in forever. Why would he call and not speak to me?
She sighs again and starts speaking very slowly. “He calls every morning, Mrs. Nash. Right after your breakfast. Don't you remember?”
“I'd remember talking to him every morning.” Wouldn't I?
Then she tilts her head, smiling condescendingly. “It's alright, Mrs. Nash. No need to get upset. Let's give you your medicine.”
I use every ounce of strength I have to shove myself away from her. “Don't speak to me like that. I'm not a child. I'll take the medication when I'm ready.”
Anne pulls out her phone and sends a text, muttering about how ungrateful I am. A few moments later her phone rings and she answers it on speakerphone. “Good morning, Mr. Nash.”
“Good morning, Anne. Can she hear me?”
“She can,” Anne, answers. “She's right here.” She holds the phone out so that I can hear Adrian more clearly.
“Larken, sweetheart, what's got you so upset?”
