Page 52 of Heart Sick

A shiver racks me from head to toe because I recognize that voice—it’s Dr. Norton. I know I should turn away, but I can’t.

With my heart in my throat, I slowly peer through the crack in her open door and what I see confuses and chills me to the bone all in one breath. Dr. Norton is talking with a man who is lying on her leather couch.

His sandy blond hair is shaggy, and he wears a hospital gown. I know it’s not Bowie because his hair is longer and this man’s is a lot thinner. I can’t see his face because he’s facing the other way. The overpowering fragrance of lavender hits my nostrils, and the overkill has me believing it’s used to mask another smell.

I just don’t know what.

Dr. Norton smiles, peering down at the man on her couch, and it’s evident she has an attachment to him as well. She clearly takes her role very seriously.

She walks over to the record player, and when Beethoven sounds, I press my nose closer into the doorway to ensure it’s not Bowie.

It’s not.

As the music sounds, the doctor sips a brown liquid from a crystal glass and sways gently. She seems relaxed, but I’m not. I feel like I’m about to witness something monumental. And when Dr. Norton finishes her drink and places the glass on the edge of her desk, I realize now is the time to turn around and leave.

But I can’t. I need her to confirm this hunch I have in the pit of my stomach that she isn’t a good person. And when she turns up the volume on the record player and wets her lips, I know I’m right. She walks over to the couch where the man lies, completely still. I wonder if this is her thing—taking advantage of those who are impaired.

“It’s going to be all right,” she says in an almost hypnotic state as she mounts the man. She lifts his hospital gown, and it’s very apparent what she’s doing when a sated moan leaves her.

She begins rocking, her eyes slipping to half-mast as she tosses her head back. The man doesn’t make a sound, however. He doesn’t even move.

It sickens me she would abuse her power this way. I hate to think how many patients she is doing this to.

Her movements become faster, which is my cue to leave because I’ve seen enough. I need to keep her away from Bowie. But what I’m confused about is that she spoke to him so lovingly, but now her actions with another man are far from loyal.

This place is poison. The more I uncover, the worse things are.

I quietly step back because although I wanted to cause a scene, I know barging in on Dr. Norton riding a patient into next week won’t be wise because Bowie will suffer the consequences. But I now know she is no friend.

I decide to continue my search for Bowie, but when a light shines brightly in my face, it seems my hunt is up. “What are you doing out of your room?”

I need to think fast.

“Hey, big guy,” I coo, giving him big doe eyes. “I was looking for Noah and his friends.”

I can’t see who is pointing the light into my eyes, but the fact it’s a man makes it a good probability that he’s a pervert and probably in cahoots with Noah.

“Noah isn’t here,” he replies. “But I can be your friend.”

I’m no longer blinded as he switches off the flashlight. It’s an orderly I’ve never seen before. I walk toward him and smile. “I’d like that.”

If I’m going to make a scene, I plan on taking down as many assholes with me. He grips my elbow and leads me away, giving me time to execute my plan.

“I don’t suppose we can get my friend to join us?”

“Who’s your friend?” he asks, appearing pleased with the possibility of more victims to exploit.

“Bowie,” I casually reply.

When a chuckle escapes him, my hopes get shot to hell. “Good luck with that. Dr. Norton won’t let him out of her sight.”

But that’s not entirely true. I mean, she is currently having sex with another man.

“Where is he?”

Silence.

Our footsteps echo an uneasy rhythm which only amplifies the farther we walk. We turn the corner and head toward the “treatment” rooms. A sense of dread fills my stomach, and I realize I’ve made a very big mistake.

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