Page 47 of Preying Heart
“Go away,” I shout at Heath. “I want to be left alone.”
Then I had to go on a lark with Slade. It was supposed to be fun—an adventure and an escape. My big brother would take care of me. He’d make the money and take care of me. Except he dumped me in a motel and transferred me to an anonymous “protector.”
So here I am. Provided with food and water. A free place to stay. Free clothes, supplies, and even medical care. Free. Free. Free.
Except I have no freedom.
The knocking continues. Why should he leave? It’s his house. His fortress. His domain. A man is king in his own castle, and I am but the mouse in his dungeon.
Why, I even have free books. Free games. Free videos and movies and free pinball. Whoopee.
“Remi, it’s Dr. Cole. Can you open up?” Lucy’s voice breaks through the clouds of my despondency.
Another jailer in the form of the prison doctor.
“I’m okay,” I shout back. “I just want to be left alone.”
In solitary confinement. In the hole. This is what it means to lose your freedom.
Or to give it away.
“Please, I came to see you. It’s about the lab tests.”
She says the magic words, but then, can I believe her?
Can I believe anything they tell me?
I open the door and let her in.
She’s wearing her white doctor’s coat and carrying a laptop bag.
“I got your blood test back,” she says.
“Couldn’t you have called?” I slump back down on the bed, not wanting her to think I care.
“I wanted to see you.” She takes out the computer which gives me hope. If I can somehow steal her password, I can get on to the internet if she leaves her laptop unguarded.
“Okay, then I’m glad you came.” I watch over her shoulders as she pecks the keyboard to unlock her screen. Her password is ridiculously short and easy: asdf’lkj—or moving your fingers across the home position in touch typing. Got it.
“You’re definitely pregnant as of yesterday. The hormonal level is nice and strong. I ran some other routine tests. For a young, healthy woman, your blood sugar is borderline high, so we’re going to have to watch that.”
“I didn’t fast before going to the clinic,” I remind her. “I had breakfast.”
“This is not the fasting glucose test, but the hemoglobin a1c. It measures the average level of blood glucose over the past three months. Patients can’t fake this test like they can for blood glucose by fasting.”
“Oh, will this cause complications? I didn’t know I have diabetes.”
“You are at the pre-diabetic level. You look healthy and fit on the outside, but I’m betting you ate horribly.”
“I was required to eat vegan,” I protest. “How can that be horrible? Of course, when I was at the casino, I gorged myself on burgers and all that forbidden stuff.”
“You do know that soda pop, donuts, and potato chips qualify as vegan, don’t you?”
“Well, yes, but I also had a chef who made my meals. My former boyfriend didn’t want me contaminated with meat products. I ate mostly healthy foods like energy bars, yogurt, seven-grain bread, and fruit juices.”
“Ugh, all of those are processed and laden with sugar and refined flour. What they’re missing is the fiber. Flavored yogurt and juice drinks are full of added sugar. I’m betting you drink alcohol.”
“Well, yes, but it’s vegan. Wine is supposed to be healthy.”
