Page 9 of Behind the Shadows
3
HOLLAND
Cami Hayes released a tired sigh as she plopped down in a chair behind the nurses’ station, wisps of her long blonde hair escaping the bun on the top of her head. I leaned against the counter on the other side, watching her try to catch her breath. The constant drone of beeping machines and chatter that filled the air was punctuated by the occasional sound of someone screaming or crying. The emergency room had been busier than usual with two car accidents.
As part of my job, I evaluated patients with mental health concerns at the hospital twice a week. My years in Sacramento had given me the chance I’d always wanted—to help others. Tonight, I’d been called in to assess a young man with severe depression and violent tendencies. Cases like his could be draining, but every patient who found a way back to themselves made it worth every second.
Once, I’d needed that same kind of help. But no one had come. No one had heard me when the night terrors had clawed at the few hours of sleep I’d managed. Not until I’d found the two people who’d finally pulled me out of the dark. That was why I couldn’t turn away. I wouldn’t let someone else be left alone intheir madness. Not if I could stop it. Not ever. Except maybe one person …
Before heading home, I wanted to say hi to Cami. She had quickly befriended me when I’d moved back to Portland seven months ago from Sacramento. I’d returned to be closer to my family and start a new position with a top-rated psychologist and his business partner, and this role included time at St. Vincent Hospital.
I approached the nurses’ station and planted my elbows on the front of the counter. “It's a wild night,” I replied, taking a sip of my lukewarm soda, and scrunched my nose in disgust. I hated to throw it away since it was half-full, but flat all the same.
“No shit.” Cami rolled her neck and massaged her shoulder.
My red strands fell into my face as I leaned against the counter. “You look tired. What time do you get off work?”
“Five in the morning.” She glanced at her watch and grimaced. “Another three hours to go. I need coffee, and a lot of it.” The corner of her mouth kicked up. “Do you think they have coffee in IV form?”
I arched a brow in agreement. “Shit, I wish. Maybe we should invent it, get rich, and retire early.”
“Hell, yes. Sign me up.” Cami grinned.
A loud outburst cut through the chaos, and I looked up to see the back of a tall man struggling against a nurse’s grip near the entrance.
“Let go of me!” he yelled while his cheeks flushed with anger. The nurse attempted to calm him down while a doctor and a security officer rushed to assist her.
Cami shot me an inquisitive look as she casually remarked, “Looks like we have some entertainment. I should go help.” She hopped out of her seat and hurried to assist.
I locked onto the man at the center of the chaos. My heart slammed in my chest, each beat echoing like a war drum assheer terror cascaded through my veins. An all-consuming urge to run surged through me, threatening to consume me in a tide of panic.
The voice pierced through me like a serrated blade, sending icy tremors coursing down my spine and igniting a raw, primal terror that clawed at my insides.
My hands shook violently as I slammed the papers onto the nurses’ station. With nurses focused on the man screaming, no one noticed me slip down the hallway. Each step felt like I was wading through molasses, desperate to distance myself from him.
Dizziness swirled in my head, threatening to pull me under as I stumbled forward, slapping a palm against the stark white wall for support. The man's rage-filled screams echoed down the hallway, driving me toward the only escape in sight—an employee storage room door that promised temporary safety.
I fumbled for my ID card, shaking so violently that it took several tries to scan it properly. Finally, with a loud click, the door unlocked, and I practically threw myself into the room. The light snapped on, illuminating the printer paper, ink, pens, tablets, and other supplies. I flipped the switch, turning it off again and welcoming the silence. I desperately tried to calm my racing pulse and push away the flood of traumatic memories that threatened to pull me under.
My blood thundered through my veins as I whispered to myself, “How the hell is he here?” With wobbly legs, I hugged the cinder block wall and inched my way toward the corner of the small room. The panic attack ripped through me at Mach speed, each breath ragged and desperate.
I pressed my fingertips to my temple, willing myself to calm down. Gritting my teeth, I stifled a rush of self-hatred. I was a coward hiding in a room instead of owning my power. Whathappened to that grown woman with self-defense training and a concealed carry permit?
I hit the bullseye on a target almost every time.
“I can protect myself,” I said in a hushed tone.
But those thoughts continued to taunt me. I covered my ears in a stupid attempt to block out the noise of the memories.
“Dammit, Holland. Get a fucking grip. This is a hospital,” I reminded myself. “Security guards and colleagues are right outside. He can’t hurt you here.”
I wiped my sweaty palms against my black pants.
My emotions were a storm I had to push aside, yet they clung to me, refusing to be ignored. I rolled my neck and shoulders, staring into the blackness that mirrored my turmoil. No one could ever know about my past or the danger that haunted me now. I had painstakingly rebuilt my life, burying the trauma and embracing anonymity. But now, seeing that familiar face, all the memories surged back, threatening to unravel everything I had fought so hard to hide.
I leaned my head back against the wall, a twisted thought clawing its way to the forefront of my mind. My breathing hitched as I fought to regain control, pushing through the remaining tendrils of PTSD. With a sharp inhale, I straightened my spine and defiantly lifted my chin. That son of a bitch was on my territory this time.
I flipped on the overhead lights, squinting against the brightness. When my vision adjusted, I opened the door and strolled into the hall with a confidence I didn’t feel. I focused on the sound of my high heels slapping against the white tile floors, which helped me remain in the present moment as I returned to the nurses’ station. I scanned the emergency room, searching for any sign of him. Had he been caught and removed from the hospital? Or worse, had he seen me? The tension in my musclestightened even further, twisting into painful knots as I searched the busy area.
