Full Circle (Shattered Lives, Book Five)

by Rissa Blakeley

  “Luke?”

  My named echoed. I chuckled quietly at the sound.

  When the fractured bits of my vision began to melt back together, I sucked in a quick breath, realizing where I was.

  “Huh?”

  “Where did you go?”

  “What?” I sat up again, looking around. I was still in the bed in my death chamber.

  “Are you okay? Maybe I should get Dr. Barter—”

  I reached out and grabbed her arm as she took a step away. “No…please,” I said, unable to tell if I shouted or whispered.

  “You seemed like you were hallucinating.”

  “No… I, ah…” I remembered my head injury. “He gave me a pain killer before you came in.”

  “He did? I would think he would’ve mentioned that.”

  “Maybe he will later…”

  “Maybe.” She stared at me, finally shaking her head. “To continue where we left off… Dr. Barter can be grating and completely unpleasant. Not to mention he doesn’t seem to have a good bedside manner. So I thought it would be easier if I hooked up the IV for you.”

  The demons whispered their lack of approval for her kindness.

  No one is ever so humane without an agenda. You are not good enough.

  I narrowed my gaze at her. “Why?”

  “Why what?”

  “Why do you want to be nice to me? Clearly, I’m not ‘Man of the Year’ material.”

  “I get the feeling there’s some goodness in this heart.” She tapped me on the chest. “Plus, you’ve caught me in a good mood.”

  “So I should either tread lightly or be a royal twat and push your buttons.” I nodded. “I’m pretty good at that.”

  She looked into my eyes for a moment. “You have a sad way of looking at yourself.”

  “Get to know me,” I muttered. “You’ll feel the same soon enough.”

  Quietly, she took my vitals, then hooked up the IV. I watched the fluid run down the tube. Instantly, a chill rushed into my veins, seeping through my arm and into my chest. My teeth chattered, my hands trembled, and I was sure as fuck going to die from hypothermia.

  “Are you cold?” she asked.

  “Y-y-yes.” The muscles in my body contracted. “F-f-fuck,” I groaned, quite glad I had my dose of blood or it would’ve hurt more. Mark one in the “Dr. Twat isn’t always a dickbag” column.

  “I’m going to go warm you a blanket. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Try to take it easy.” She pulled the blankets up to my neck as my entire body trembled. She rushed out of my chamber, leaving me to tackle my demons and the cold on my own.

  My stomach began to churn, uncertain if it were because of the anti-serum or the constant shaking. As the sensation increased, I wasn’t sure how I would get out of the bed fast enough to get to the loo.

  “Sh-shit…” I rolled over, yanking on the IV. “Ugh… F-f-fuck m-me.” My body shivered more intensely. The lack of control would be the death of me.

  The seal of the room broke and Michelle came in at a jog. “Here…” She tossed a fluffy blanket over me.

  “Oh g-g-god…,” I moaned.

  “Feel a little better?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “How are you doing otherwise?” she asked, rubbing my arm.

  “My s-st-stomach…”

  “Do you feel like you’ll be sick?”

  All I could do was nod because if I opened my mouth, I would puke everywhere. She must have noticed, or maybe I turned green. Whatever the case, she grabbed a small, kidney-shaped basin and held it to my face just in time.

  I choked and gagged, reminding me of the endless hours of vomiting while detoxing from alcohol. One again, my body didn’t understand it was empty, dry-heaving for a good ten minutes.

  The nurse stood by my side, rubbing my back, waiting for me to finish.

  When the last wave dissipated, I flopped onto my back, breathing as if I had just run a marathon in five minutes.

  She grabbed a tissue and wiped my face. “I’m going to see if I can get you some anti-nausea medication. If you are already doing this, you should be in for a good time today.”

  I moaned in reply.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I’ll leave the tray right where it is.”

  Between my chattering teeth and the churn of my stomach, I couldn’t manage any words.

  Unsure of how many times they would treat me with the anti-serum, I really started to regret the decision to come here.

  The churning continued, making me dry-heave three times before the nurse came back in with medication. After she gave it to me, things settled down enough for me to catch a few moments of rest.

  The last thing I saw before nodding off was Michelle standing over me, a sad smile on her face as she rubbed my back.

  Chapter 13

  A week after Luke’s first treatment, Erik gathered the team in the conference room to talk about his condition. All the leg bouncing and finger tapping made it obvious they were anxious to see the results.

  Erik pulled the brain scans up on the projection screen. He watched everyone’s expressions—gasps and gaping mouths, except for Dr. Barter.

  “Okay, so… As you know, Luke had another scan this morning.” He glanced down at his watch. “Dr. Barter gave him a much smaller dose of sedative this time, so he should be waking up soon. The image on the left was the last scan, and the image on the right is today’s.”

  Tess slapped her hands over her face and muttered, “Not what I wanted to see bright and fucking early this morning.”

  Joseph shook his head. “Bloody hell… Still like a red light.”

  “This really increases my concern for his emotional and mental well-being,” PJ added.

  “They look the same,” Michelle said. “After what he went through, I can’t believe the scans look the same.”

  “Very good, Nurse Fogerty,” Dr. Barter mumbled, clapping slowly. She shifted in the chair and glared at him. “Brilliant, if I do say so myself.”

  Erik raised his hand. “Right. Without a doubt, we need to increase the dosage of the anti-serum. As we said initially, the results were only fifty-fifty, at best. Clearly, nothing has changed, which leaves me very concerned about losing him.”

  “I say we double the dose and frequency,” Dr. Barter said.

  “Are you mad?” Michelle asked, leaning toward the table. “That could kill him!”

  The doctor shrugged. “That’s the risk we have to take.”

  She was dumbfounded for a moment, her mouth opening and closing a few times before she found her voice. “How can you be so cold? Luke is a human being.”

  Dr. Barter found nothing amusing about her contempt. He tapped his finger on the table as he spoke. “Mr. Richards knew exactly what he was getting into when he committed to this treatment. If you haven’t heard yet, he is already dying.”

  “While that may be the case, he must’ve had some hope, or he wouldn’t be here,” PJ said, shaking his head. “To me, these scans show no hope. I think I would like to get a few sessions in before we expose him to more treatments.”

  Rubbing his lips, Erik sat quietly for a moment. “He’s dying,” he said, raising his voice over the arguing, silencing them. “I can’t be any clearer than that. We need to be more aggressive before we run out of time.”

  Michelle leaned toward Erik. “So let’s kill him off now and be done with it? That’s absurd.”

  “Mr. Carlson brought me in on the project because of my unorthodox ways.” The chair squeaked as Dr. Barter leaned back. “Because of that, I’ve helped thousands of people. The human body is more resilient than you think. We need to be more aggressive, starting today.”

  “Michelle, if that’s what the doctors and scientists say, we should go with it,” Joseph added. “Who are we to ask otherwise?”

  “I don’t give a squat about that,” Michelle argued. “I didn’t realize unorthodox meant killing a patient! What I care about is the treatment of that man in there. He is
broken, frayed, and absolutely a goddamn mess. He’s putting up the angry front to hide his emotions.” She turned, glancing at PJ. “How about that for a diagnosis?”

  “I would say it’s borderline.” PJ waved his arm at the projection screen. “While those assessments are accurate, in a way, we need to know the cause of his mental distress. If his brain is this badly diseased, he may not understand the consequences of his actions and words. He may not realize how he looks from our point of view.” He looked at Dr. Barter and Erik. “But you should heed my advice. I need to speak to him about this before we start another round of treatment. I want to assess his mental state. Maybe start medication to help mellow him out.”

  “Are you saying he is mentally incompetent?” Erik asked.

  PJ nodded. “Yeah. He cannot decide for himself if this is a good plan or not.”

  “Voice of reason,” Dr. Barter mumbled sarcastically.

  Staring at the doctor, PJ continued. “Allow me at least one session with him. I want to see where his competency level is, then you can progress with the treatments.”

  “I can’t believe this,” Michelle whispered. She slammed her palms down on the table. “What is wrong with you people?”

  Again, Erik raised his hand in an effort to push back Michelle’s anger. “Listen, we understand the risks involved here. Simply put, the first dosage wasn’t high enough. It’s a risk we must take. We are running out of time. Trust me, it won’t be pretty if he dies. Drastic measures will have to be taken if he does.”

  Michelle narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean by ‘drastic measures’?”

  Erik waved his hand. “Let’s focus on the solution.” He leaned forward, elbows pressed to the table while steepling his hands in front of his mouth. “Tess, double the dose.”

  “I don’t like this,” Michelle muttered.

  Dr. Barter slapped his hand on his forehead and groaned. “I’m out. I have research to do.” He rose and spun on his heels, walking out of the room.

  “Fucking cockwomble,” Tess muttered. Erik glared at her. “What? He acts so high and mighty. Who figured out the cure? That’d be me.” She stood and headed out the door, as well, mumbling a string of obscenities that made Erik chuckle.

  “Can I be the one who tells him?” Michelle asked.

  “You can go in with PJ. Actually, it may do him well to hear it from you rather than anyone else,” Erik agreed. “Check the stitches in his head, too, and see if we can remove them.”

  “Sure.” Michelle sighed and nodded at PJ, who stood and waved toward the door.

  “Well, off we go then,” he said.

  Sitting up, I groaned, remembering they knocked me out for another brain scan. “Fucking hell…” I rubbed my face. As I tried to get my bearings, the door opened and in walked the nurse and the head-shrink. “For fuck’s sake,” I mumbled.

  “Hullo to you, as well,” she said, smiling, but that soon faded.

  “Whatever…” I lay back on the bed, still trying to rub the sleep out of my eyes.

  Both stood at the edge of the bed. “Dr. Barter and Erik have informed us about your scan results,” the nurse said.

  “And?”

  PJ cleared his throat. “There has been no change.”

  I turned my head, looking toward the window. I fought my emotions, breathing deep to shove them away, to no avail. Tears trickled from my eyes. After wiping my cheeks with the backs of my hands, anger surged through me with an intensity I couldn’t handle. Everything inside me said kill or be killed.

  My gaze flickered to the heavy bag. Time for another round as the demons chanted their victory. As I sat up, the nurse touched my shoulder.

  “Why don’t you just lie back and try to get some rest?”

  “I agree with Michelle. We can talk about this to get out some of the frustration I see building.”

  I shrugged from her grip and slid off the bed, hoping my legs would support my body. After testing them quickly, I was ready to go. “How ’bout you both fuck off and leave me to deal with this on my own.” I jabbed my thumb into my chest. “The way I know how.”

  “So you want to beat something, force your anger away,” PJ said, rounding the foot of the bed. I shook my head and walked up to the heavy bag, squared my shoulders, and let out a few cleansing breaths. “I don’t disapprove of your approach. I find using exercise to release pent-up anger and aggression can be key to a healthy mind.”

  I snapped my head in his direction. “Mutual consensus.” Facing the bag again, I raised my fists. Before I could take the first swing, hands landed on my shoulders. “What?!” I yelled, spinning around to the nurse. “Leave me be for five fucking minutes so I can deal with what you just told me!”

  “Can I at least take a peek at your stitches first? If you want to rage at the bag afterward, have at it, but I am not leaving this room—”

  I muttered, “Death chamber.”

  She pursed her lips, sadness enveloping her eyes. “Do you care?”

  “About what?”

  She jutted her hands out, gesturing around. “About this! About anything!”

  “Of course I fucking care.” I leaned close, putting my face right in front of hers. “I am fucking dying. My life is close to the end. I have a wife, a son, and a mother I want to get back home to. I love them with every fiber of my being.”

  “Then start caring about the process,” she bit back.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?!”

  “Hey, mate… Let’s calm down,” PJ said.

  In disgust, I looked him up and down. “Fuck you. I’m not your mate.”

  “Just be cool,” he said. “We don’t need you to get hostile.”

  My lip curled into a snarl. “You haven’t seen hostile yet.”

  “Okay, okay,” the nurse said. “Allow me to explain.” I crossed my arms over my chest and rolled my eyes. “By you calling this room a ‘death chamber’, you are telling yourself you will die in here. I don’t want that for you, Luke. I want you to go home and be with your family. I want to help you beat this virus…or whatever it is that’s making you sick. That’s all I want for you. It’s time to change your attitude.” I snorted and turned back to the bag. “Stitches…”

  I tipped my head back and let out an annoyed sigh. “Fine. Just hurry. I need to blow out this rage.” I walked over to the chair and dropped down into it. She stood staring at me, not moving. “Hullo…? Stitches…” I pointed to my head.

  “If you didn’t have those stitches, I would slap you,” she said, stomping over to the cabinet.

  “Bring it. It wouldn’t even faze me.”

  She reached into the right pocket of her scrub shirt and pulled out a key.

  Noted.

  I watched her as she searched around, grabbing whatever needed to disinfect the area and remove the stitches. After locking the cabinet, she snatched a pair of gloves from the dispenser and headed back to me, fury controlling her quick stride. Her cheeks were rosy enough to lead me to believe I must’ve boosted her blood pressure.

  I chuckled under my breath.

  “What?” she asked, lifting a brow.

  “Nothing.”

  “Keep it up and I will request to switch shifts with Joseph.” She walked behind me and pawed through my hair.

  “Don’t threaten me, bird. It’ll get you nowhere fast.” Something tugged, shooting pain around my head. I ducked away, slapping at her hand before turning around. “Ow! What the fuck?”

  Her self-satisfied smirk infuriated me. The way she rested her hands on her hips, held her head high, puffed out her chest with pride…

  Annnd my cock twitched.

  Perfect. I was getting aroused over her anger. Luckily for me, I wore pajama bottoms, so everything would try to peek out the fly.

  Ugly things… Think ugly things, I repeated in my head.

  I looked at PJ. “You’re awfully quiet.”

  “I’m examining your body language and verbal…combativeness, if you will.”
He nodded once with a smirk.

  Cutting out the last stitch, the nurse said, “Done.”

  I hopped up and charged at the bag, dishing out the same punishment it used to know. Blow after blow, the rage finally simmered down enough for me to rest for a minute. Panting, I leaned against the wall.

  “Feel better?” PJ asked.

  “There’s only one thing that would make me feel better, and that’s leaving this fucking death chamber.”

  The nurse rolled her eyes.

  “I want you to talk to me about what’s going on in your head. It’s very apparent this recent setback isn’t exactly what you expected.”

  “Well, look at you,” I said. “So good at picking up on the obvious.”

  “Luke, be nice,” the nurse grumbled.

  “Do you know what I see when I look at you?” PJ asked.

  “What?” I crossed my arms and tilted my head to the side, glaring at him. “What does the wise head-shrink see?”

  “I see a scared little boy. One who fears his fate. His father was an abuser, so he knows the plight of a home filled with violence.” I shifted my weight. “I see a man who refuses to face that little boy and tell him everything can and will get better, to run along now because he no longer has to live in fear.” I swallowed hard, feeling his words trickle through my mind. “I see a man who is sick—mentally, physically, and emotionally. One who uses his sicknesses as a crutch.” I started to feel really uncomfortable as the walls started to close in on me. “One who has an uncertain future, so he will push everyone and everything out of the way just so he can wallow in his own misery. The classic ‘get others before they get you’ attitude.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “How’d I do?”

  How do I pretend his words didn’t affect me?

  “Don’t try to deny how you feel. Your stance and movements speak for themselves. Maybe I should’ve told you I’m a world-renowned expert in body language. The government uses me to analyze high-profile suspects.” He stormed up to me and pointed in my face. “I let you rough me up the last time just so you could feel like the bigger man. I knew you wouldn’t hurt me, but that was the only way I could get a little trust from you.”