by Tarisa Marie
I promised that I wouldn’t tell anyone about what happened the other day. I promised. I’m not one to break my promises.
“You can tell me anything,” he tries again when he realizes I’m not about to say anything.
Do I know this guy well enough to tell him what happened to me the other day? No.
“When you’re ready to talk, I’ll be here to listen,” he says sternly, then he leads me through some double doors. He discharges me at one of the nursing desks, then I follow him out of the hospital to his car. A sense of déjà vu hits me when I realize that he has a car sort of like my kidnappers did. It’s a different colour and even brand than theirs, but it still makes me a little woozy. It’s blue and fancy. I hesitate before getting in. Am I going to let history repeat itself by getting into this car?
Okay, he’s a damn doctor there’s no way he’s a murderer, Megan, chill the hell out. I get in, shaking.
Crispen pulls the car from the parking lot and begins heading in the opposite direction of our houses. I clench my teeth, and my breathing quickens. Not again. No. You have to be joking me. This isn’t happening. Jesus Moses banana shit face. I begin to panic.
“Megan? Are you alright?” he asks, sounding worried. I can’t look at him. I hold back the tears in my eyes.
“Where are you taking me, Crispen?” I ask in a choked voice. He must sense the worry in it, because he looks at me strangely and then pulls over. He digs into his pocket and pulls out the notepad he was writing on earlier. “I wrote you a prescription for some painkillers. I was going to take you to the pharmacy to have it filled.”
Pure relief flushes over me, and my heart calms its rapid racing. Tears of overwhelm escape my eyes without my permission. My view of him is blurred, but I can imagine he’s looking at me as if I’m psychotic. I am psychotic.
“Megan, you’re going to be alright,” he soothes me gently. I’m so utterly embarrassed that I nearly can’t take it. I finally have a chance to make a friend, and I blow it. I wipe my tears away with my sleeve.
“I hope so,” I say quietly, not meaning for him to hear.
“You will. Do you suffer from anxiety? Have you ever seen anyone professionally about this?” he wonders, and to my surprise, in his voice is worry and concern, not rejection or whatever I was expecting.
“No, I don’t have anxiety issues,” I promise him. “Something happened a couple days ago that’s causing me worry and paranoia, and I guess anxiety. I can’t talk about it. I’m sorry. I know you probably think I’m nuts.”
“Megan, I’m a doctor. I see all sorts of things, all sorts of people. I know you’re not nuts.” He turns the music coming from the stereo down, so it’s silent. “In school, I took a lot of psychology. At first, I wanted to become a psychiatrist not a medical doctor. Your actions are showing signs of trauma that I’m having trouble understanding. I’m not talking about you getting run over. I’m talking about something that has strongly affected you mentally. Something that is haunting you.”
So I really am that easy to read. I’m an open book. Lovely.
“You’re not totally wrong,” I admit, not expanding.
“From the way that you have trouble trusting people, I would say you’ve suffered from some sort of betrayal. At first I thought it might be your father leaving you when you were young, then I thought maybe it was your mother’s alcoholism, and then something occurred to me. It’s not that you are afraid to make friends or speak to others, it’s that you worry about letting them alone near you. For instance, getting into a car with someone you barely know. Most people also have this anxiety and rationally so, but not to this extent, this goes beyond simple anxiety. Megan, just now, when I started going in a different direction than our houses, you nearly had a mental break down which leads me to think that this has happened to you before with bad results. Have you been in a car with a stranger before? One that maybe took you somewhere that you didn’t want to go?”
I blink away my tears. He got all that from only spending mere minutes with me?
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Have you been hurt by a stranger? Maybe even kidnapped?” he asks me softly, like I’m cracked glass about to fall apart at any moment.
It takes me a moment to respond, because I don’t know how to answer. I mean the obvious answer is to say yes, but I made a promise not to tell a soul about what happened.
Apparently my silence counts as a yes anyways, because he sighs and grunts, “Who and when?”
I remain silent.
“Megan, tell me what happened. If you don’t want me to tell anyone that’s fine. I won’t, but you can’t just keep something this big to yourself. That’s ridiculous, and it’s unhealthy.”
“Are you demanding I tell you as my doctor or my friend?” I ask him. It does make a difference, because the event that I suffered through the other day has affected my mentality, and he, being a doctor, might have to report this if I tell him everything. If he’s asking as a friend though, the secret is safe. The promise has already been broken if Crispen already knows the majority of what happened, even if he doesn’t know every detail. Since it’s already been broken, I may as well just let the rest out.
“A friend,” he answers to my relief.
I swallow hard and gather my thoughts before explaining everything. “I was volunteering with my company to pick garbage, and I got into a car with the man I was partnered with. Instead of him taking me to the street we were assigned to, he took me to his home, and he and his brother asked me all these weird questions that I didn’t really understand. I think they were going to kill me, but one of the brothers wanted to let me go if I kept my mouth shut. He wanted me to leave the city and stay with someone else. He said that if I didn’t, people would come after me and kill me. I quit my job, because I told one of them where I worked, and I didn’t want them showing up at my workplace.”
“You think he might have been telling you the truth? Like there might actually be people after you, wanting to kill you?” Crispen investigates.
I nod. “It was a promise. He promised that there would be people after me. I know it sounds dumb, because they have no way of knowing where I live, but I’m still freaked out.”
Crispen contemplates this new information for a minute. “You quit your job, how else would they find you? Did you give them any other information?”
“The one guy might have saw my license plate, but my car is parked in the garage now,” I explain.
“Well, I don’t think you have much to worry about. It sounds like he was just trying to scare you.”
“They took me, because I was wearing a ring. It’s green, and my dad left it when he left us years ago. My mom told me that it was a fraternity ring or whatever. These guys seemed to know something more about the ring, and I’m pretty sure they have nothing to do with a fraternity. They knew that there would be a name on the inside. I don’t know how. I always thought the name was the maker of the ring or something. I searched the name on the internet and a guy with the same name was murdered brutally in Calgary, near where I lived with my mother and father before he left, and at around the same time I was born.”
Crispen swallows hard, and his eyebrows merge together. I can’t tell if it’s in worry or confusion.
“Do you still have the ring?” he inquires, rubbing his clean-shaven jaw.
“No, I left it with him. It didn’t mean enough for me to keep. I thought he may as well take it and do what he pleases with it and just leave me alone. Even if he sells it, I don’t care. Do you think that maybe they’re part of a gang or something?”
“No—well I don’t know. I have no idea. Maybe,” he stammers strangely. I brush away the last of my tears and look up to him.
“Oh, I didn’t tell you the strangest part. I tried to get away when the one brother was going to take me back to my car, and I ran to the neighbor’s house. Guess who opened the door? First brother. Second brother Landon said that all the houses in the neighborhood were
interconnected with tunnels. They own the whole neighborhood. It’s all theirs!” Okay, if he didn’t think I was crazy before, he does now. I’m talking about interconnecting tunnels between houses. I’m aware that I sound insane.
“Do you remember where this neighborhood was?” He cocks an eyebrow and starts the car. “I have tinted windows, they won’t recognize my car, why don’t we just drive through it?”
Is he insane? I shake my head rapidly. “I think I remember where it is, but I’m not going over there again. What would be the point anyway?”
“I want to get a look at the assholes, so I can kick their asses,” Crispen says with a straight face. He’s entirely serious.
“You’re a doctor. You went to school for how many years? Maybe try to not to get a criminal record. I can’t imagine that would be good for your career. Plus, there’s two of them and one of you.”
He rolls his eyes and smiles. “Okay, yeah, you’re right, but it makes me beyond angry to hear that someone has done this to you.”
“So do you think I should go to the cops?”
He shakes his head to my surprise. “I think it’s better to be safe than sorry. If they said not to, then don’t. I mean, what are the cops going to do? All you have is your word, and it sounds like they have a lot of money to pay off a lawyer.”
I’m glad we’re on the same page. I feel better already having someone else’s opinion.
“Shall we go pick up your prescription?” Crispen asks, changing the subject and starting the car. “I will stay with you as much as you want if that’s what you want. I can call into work, or whatever you need. You shouldn’t be alone. What happened to you is enough to knock someone off their feet for a while.”
“I’ll be fine,” I attempt to reassure him to no avail. He sees right through my lie and tilts his head at me.
“Thank you for confiding in me, but now we’re both in this together, and I’m not about to let anything happen to you. Let me stay with you for a while,” he nearly begs. “If you don’t, I will sit on your lawn and patrol your yard all day and all night to reassure you that you’re safe.”
Unexpectedly, I laugh a short laugh.
Telling him everything has made me feel far better than I assumed it would. It’s like a breath of fresh air, and I find myself trusting him much more.
“We’ll see,” I answer vaguely. It’s not a no, but it’s also not a yes. This seems to satisfy him though, as he grins and nods.
We pull into the pharmacy, and I grab my medication, before we turn and begin heading back to my place.
“You should take one of those now,” he instructs in his doctor voice and points to the smaller bottle of pain medication. “I guess you can take one of those to.” He gestures to bottle of anti-inflammatory.
“I can’t without water. I will when we get home,” I promise. I’m one of those people who needs water to swallow pills.
“You know what?” he asks me suddenly, interrupting my favorite song on the radio.
I look at him and shake my head. “What?”
“You’re accident prone,” he teases.
“No, I think I’m just having a streak of bad luck,” I say hopefully. “If this bad luck lasts any longer though, I don’t know what I’m going to do. I’ve been kidnapped and hit by a car all in a matter of three days.”
He laughs lightly. “Yeah, that’s pretty shitty.” His blue eyes glisten in the setting sun, and I can’t help but be in awe. For the rest of the ride home, I stare out the window at the passing streets.
When we get back to my place, Crispen decides to cook me dinner while I lie down and rest. I’m fine with this, because my medication begins to kick in soon after I take it, and I can’t help but start to doze off.
He makes me lasagna which is simple enough and also one of my favorites. I haven’t eaten to today, so I’m borderline starving and scarf down nearly a quarter of the pan.
Later that night, he runs over to his house to fetch his doctor bag, so he can give me a small checkup. I’m so grateful that I ended up not having to stay overnight in the hospital. I hate hospitals. I used to have to stay in them all the time when my mom overdosed after mixing pills with alcohol. At least she kicked the drug habit a few years ago.
“Your head is fine. That bump is pretty big though. I can imagine it hurts.” He has that right. It feels like it has its own pulse.
I hear a can open and glance to the side. He’s opening a can of beer, which he must have brought from his house when he went to get the doctor bag.
“You can sleep you know…” I say confused.
“I know, but I’m not going to. I’m going to wake you up every couple of hours to check your head and watch to make sure no crazy murderers come barging into the house,” he explains, as if this is completely normal.
“Uh, and you’re going to do both of those things while intoxicated? That doesn’t sound smart,” I point out.
“There’s no alcohol in this beer. I just like the taste. I buy it for nights I’m on call at the hospital. I like to have a beer with my supper.”
“It’s like that stuff pregnant ladies can drink?” I ask. I don’t get what the point of non-alcoholic beer is.
He looks at me as if I’m making a joke and laughs. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“What’s the point? If you’re going to drink, don’t you want to feel the effects?” I roll over onto my side, so I can face him better.
“Some people, believe it or not, drink because they like the taste and not just to get drunk. I take it you’re not one of those people.” His expression is amused.
“I drink when I’ve had a bad day,” I admit sheepishly. “My mom’s an alcoholic, so I guess some of that must’ve rubbed off on me.”
“As long as you don’t let it run your life or ruin your health, I see nothing wrong with a few beers on the odd ‘bad day’,” he agrees lightly. “As for me, I like one with my supper. I’d think that being around your mom’s alcoholism would turn you away from alcohol though. Aren’t you scared to end up like her?”
“A beer a day probably doesn’t keep the doctor away,” I tease him with a small giggle. “And no, because I would never let myself become like her. She’s in jail right now. She was drunk driving and killed some kids.”
He winces at my words.
“Yeah, anyways, isn’t drinking a beer a day pretty unhealthy?”
“Well, the way I see it, we only have so long to live anyway, right? Why not enjoy the time we have instead of wasting it doing things we don’t really like. Like eating cabbage and broccoli.”
“How can you say that? You’re a doctor.”
He bites his cheek for a moment in thought. “Well, I’d rather live a short, happy life than a long, unhappy one, wouldn’t you?”
“I guess so,” I decide after a moment of contemplation.
“Exactly.”
Chapter 3
“Rise and shine, time to check your head again,” Crispen shouts in a voice far too enthusiastic for the time of day. I open my eyes to the dim light of the sunrise and Crispen’s face right in the middle of it.
“Ugh,” I groan, “Do I have to get up?”
“Yes, unfortunately,” he murmurs through a smile.
I notice that he’s wearing new clothes. He must’ve changed sometime during the night. He asks me a few questions and shines that stupid light in my eyes again before concluding that I’m still fine.
“I’m fine. I’m starting to think that you just used checking on me as an excuse to stay overnight at my house,” I pry, taking a sip of water from the glass on the coffee table and swallowing my pills.
When he doesn’t answer right away, I turn and look at him kneeling on the floor in front of me and smirking wickedly.
“You’re joking?” I ask, but it sounds more like a statement than a question.
When his smirk doesn’t falter, I grab a pillow from the end of the couch and whack him across the head with it using all of my might. We
spent the entire night talking and watching stupid comedy movies that I don’t think either of us enjoyed all that much. I slept for only a few hours, and only because my medication finally knocked me out around three in the morning. Take it from me, it’s pretty tough to sleep when you know someone is going to be watching you all night. I guess it’s better than getting watched by someone else though, and maybe even murdered. Not even the medication was enough to make me pass out for the majority of the night and morning. I hate people watching me sleep as much as I hate them watching me eat.
“Are you serious?!” I demand. I should probably be angry, but for some reason, I’m not. I’m actually relieved, thankful and maybe even enamored. I don’t think anyone in my entire life has shown me such care, including my own mother.
“Maybe it was a little of both. I wanted to get to know you better, and you do need to be under supervision, but as for the deal I made you about not having to stay overnight in the hospital, it wouldn’t have hurt to send you home.” he tries slowly and cautiously. His smirk turns into a careful smile, as he gages my reaction. “Plus, from what you tell me, you shouldn’t be alone right now anyway. Not with a possible crazy brother duo after you.”
He’s right. For the first time in days, I wasn’t constantly worrying about every little noise I heard. I shake my head slowly. “I guess you’re forgiven.”
This seems to please him. He stands up quickly and nods to the door. “The hospital called. They need me to come in this morning. Just for a couple hours though to assist with a surgery.”
“I thought you were a doctor not a surgeon,” I point out. It’s quite possible that he’s both, and I just don’t understand how the whole thing works.
“I’m a little of both honestly,” he explains, “Would you like me to come over here again when I’m done, or are you sick of me?”
I try not to make my nod too anxious. “Sure. If you want.”
“I would love to.” He escapes through the door, and I lock it behind him. Last night was one of the best nights I’ve had in a very long time. I’ve found a friend in Crispen, and a friend is something that I desperately need, especially now. I like him a lot, and maybe that’s crazy, because I’ve only just met him, but it’s honest.
