by Urban, Ami
My head bobbed up and down. “Yes. He’s had them before. It’s a rare manifestation of PTSD.”
Brendon blew a breath out, then covered his mouth with one hand. “Has he ever been checked for schizophrenia?”
“I don’t think so.” I met his gaze. “But there’s no genetic predisposition. I suppose that doesn’t mean much to mother nature, but he never exhibited any of these symptoms until he started taking the Oxycontin.”
He dropped his hand under his chin, his second knuckle brushing against his jawline. “So that’s why you didn’t want him taking it.”
I nodded. “Yes.”
One corner of his mouth turned upward in a grimace. “I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
“No, it’s alright. I had no way of knowing, either.”
Brendon pulled his phone out, presumably to check the time, then looked back up at me. “Any idea where he might go?”
I took a moment to think, pondering the last few weeks, searching my mind if he’d mentioned being anywhere else. “The Desert Rose.”
***
While Raychel’s first inclination was to thoroughly tear through Huntington House looking for Jack, mine was to look where he’d brought me the previous Tuesday. I recalled him mentioning he had the only keys to the remote cabin.
But for some reason, I couldn’t locate the tiny room. Brendon and I roamed around the small thicket for ages before deciding to find a map of the entire property.
He took my hand to help me step over a crumbling log. It looked familiar. And when I slipped off the same spot, landing perfectly in his outstretched arms, I knew it was. We were close, but…
“You okay, Bunny? You almost ate it, there.”
What a strange saying. I almost ate it.
He’s yummy.
You almost ate it.
He’s yummy.
How had those thoughts entered my mind? I looked at him in the dark. What did Raychel see that I didn’t? He was thin. Even as he held my forearms in his, I could feel the knobs of his joints through his skin. I could meet his gaze straight on as well. He wasn’t very tall. Sure, he had a nice smile, but so did Jack.
Why was I comparing the two?
Brendon’s expression changed to one of concern. “You in there? Or are you a pre-stiff?”
I shook the thoughts from my brain. “I’m sorry. I’m fine. Thank you.”
Something in the tone I’d used caused Brendon’s face to fall. He let go of my arms. His fingertips brushing against my shoulder as he gestured while speaking. “You don’t have to put on a brave face for me, you know.”
“I appreciate that. I really do.” I took a step back and his brows pulled together.
“But…?”
“I studied psychology. I practiced it.”
“Yeah, but…” He ran a hand through his hair. “Even shrinks need shrinks.”
“I never did.”
“Lucky you.”
“Can we…?” I gestured toward the twinkling light of the Desert Rose’s lobby in the distance.
“Let’s make a deal.” Tossing a glance to his right, he took another step forward.
I stayed silent.
“You tell me one thing about what’s going on in your head right now and I’ll tell you one thing that keeps me up at night.” He held up his index finger throughout his statement.
“I…” I stopped, turning halfway between him and the path to the lobby. “Receiving something in return isn’t the issue.”
“Really?” He fell into step beside me. Our shoes crackled over dead twigs. “Man, Reynolds is a lucky guy.”
“I don’t understand what you mean.” Out of my periphery, I watched Brendon shake his head.
“Doesn’t matter. If we don’t find your hubbs, then I’m stealing you for myself.”
I turned to give him a piece of my mind, but my stomach began to contract. Nausea drifted up my esophagus. My salivary glands kicked into gear to protect my mucus membranes from the incoming bile. Thinking quickly, I turned away from Brendon and ran to a nearby tree. Then, I emptied the contents of my stomach onto the forest floor.
A twig snapped behind me. “See? That’s what happens when you don’t open up.”
“I’m fine.” I choked the words out between dry heaves. When Brendon came closer, I used the back of my hand to wipe my mouth. “I just have a nervous stomach.”
He looked down, his eyes widening. “Holy shit! Is that Shepherd’s Pie?”
June 20 – Jack Reynolds
When my eyes snapped open this morning, it took a moment for the blurry haze in my vision to clear. Sharp, piercing bird calls filtered through my ears. The air conditioner kicked on with a loud knock followed by a whooshing sound as cool air filled the room.
Something tickled my right temple. I reached up to brush it away and…it was sweat.
That’s fuckin’ weird.
I scoured my mind for the last thing I even remembered. Two…three days ago? Whenever the last time my knee decided to give out. Yeah, probably three days. Damn. That’s a new record.
I frowned at the ceiling. It wasn’t mine. There was a brown stain above me, stretching halfway across the room. Black specks of mold grew around its perimeter. It looked like I was in a crack house.
Not…not that I ever had been in one.
I rubbed my hands over my face, feeling a five-day-old growth of scraggly facial hair. Nice. Mustering the strength to sit up, I let out an involuntary grunt. Except it was kinda easy to do. I swung upward in a nice fluid movement. No pain. Huh.
I took a moment to glance around the room I was in. I instantly recognized it as the Desert Rose Inn about a mile from Huntington House. The fuck was I there?
Checking the empty space next to me in bed confirmed I was probably in the dog house for shooting more Oxy. Great. Why couldn’t they understand my pain? Every day dealing with nine out of ten pain from simply standing. I needed that surgery.
Well, except today. Today I felt an odd numbness throughout my body. Maybe I shot too much and fried all my nerve endings. That’d be what I needed. For sure.
No pain is better than any pain, so I decided to get started on apologizing to my family. I threw back the covers to find myself naked. The cool air brushed past the skin on my lower half. It tickled.
I shrugged. Guess that meant I didn’t fry my nerve endings. Maybe just the pain receptors. Whatever it was, it worked. And I was so sure of myself that I decided I didn’t even need to use the bedside table to help me up.
And that was a mistake.
As soon as I put the tiniest weight on my left leg, the pain exploded through me a thousand times worse than ever before. Bone rubbed against bone as my leg completely crumpled beneath me. Can’t even remember if I let out a cry or not because my hearing cut out, along with my vision, for about five whole seconds.
It came back in waves. Waves like the pain. With each erratic beat of my heart, lightning bolts fired through my leg into my thigh. Bright auras of light washed over my vision. The rushing in my ears faded back slowly.
You need more Oxy. I recalled tossing it on the dresser before flopping into my coma. But that was all the way across the room.
With a sigh of determination, I turned my head to the left, reaching one arm out. Grabbing a handful of the rug, I managed to pull myself about a foot closer to my stuff. I’d fallen on some random garbage that now crinkled under my weight, scraping against my chest. I ignored it, reaching out my other hand to pull me even closer to the dresser.
I was almost there. Just a little more leverage. I planted the ball of my right foot against the bedframe, pushing me as close as I could possibly get. Reaching out, my fingertips grazed the edge of the dresser. A bolt of pain reminded me of the urgency of the situation.
Okay. I get it.
Stretching out my leg muscles until I felt they’d tear, I grabbed a hold of the side of the dresser with one hand and the top with the other.
Oh, I like this…
“Fuck me�
�” I groaned. The voice in my head wasn’t mine anymore. But it was awfully familiar. I could see…something out of the corner of my eye. Someone was in my room. Someone who shouldn’t have been there.
Oh, fuck me. Fuck me! Waa waa!
“Shut the fuck up or I’ll put a second hole in your chest, asshole.”
With a giant groan of strength, and still not looking directly at Silas, I hefted myself up to the dresser, using my right leg for balance.
Only I’d stretched it too far. It wasn’t working, either.
Aanndd he’s down!
I twisted my body into the fall this time, landing on my right hip next to the dresser. As I’d been on the way down, I’d managed to knock half the contents over, sending a heavy flashlight directly onto my damaged knee while Silas’s dirty guffaw echoed in my head.
“Fuck!” My teeth clenched so tight I felt they’d crack. Searing pain traveled through my entire body. When it reached my brain, something clicked. There was a random parting of the clouds to reveal the crystal-clear audacity of my current situation.
Motherfucker! Thirteen out of ten. Thirteen! Fuck me!
All you need is Oxy. It’s right there. Just inches from your hand. Just feel around a little.
Fuck this. Fuck this so much. “And fuck you, Silas!” He was the reason for my pain.
There you go. That’ll solve all your problems. His voice was urgent. Just close your hand around it… Atta boy! The sound of creaking bones accompanied movement in my peripheral vision.
A sudden vision lit up my brain. Turning Lisa around and begging her for sex. “No…” I opened my palm, the preloaded hypodermic needle clattering back onto the dresser top. A flash of my hands around her neck. The fleeting feeling of something inside her give. The knowledge that I’d… “No…”
Dude, you’re taking way too long to do this. Just a tiny bit of Oxy and you can use your legs again.
“Suck my balls!” A breath of held in air puffed from my chest, disturbing the bright specks of dust in the room, sending them zooming around in random patterns.
Another jab of pain lit up my side. She’d stabbed me with a needle. I remember feeling it sink into my skin and muscle. Looking down, I noticed a crust of dried blood on my stomach. Jesus. Jesus, it was real. Why hadn’t she just stabbed me in the fucking neck and done me in right there? “I need… I need to…find Brendon…”
You can’t go anywhere like this. Just take the needle—
I closed my eyes. My heart pounded in my chest. Dots swam before my vision.
AND JAM IT INTO YOUR FUCKING LEG!
My eyes popped open. Silas’s face was inches away, more grotesque than I’d ever seen it. Small fragments of leftover gray skin clung to his dirty cheek bones. Worms and maggots wriggled around inside one eye socket. The other still had what was left of his eye in it, half deflated and leaking a milky fluid. For some reason, he still had a tongue. And it was too long, flopping out of his mouth, almost touching my stomach. Several of his teeth were missing, leaving gaping black holes in his smile.
And the fucking smell.
It was like a hundred dead bloated dog carcasses had been left in the summer sun for days, exploding with putrid juices. His organs had turned to mush inside his skeleton. Nothing but black sludge oozed between his ribcage.
My gaze focused on my left fist as his bony hand clasped it, closing the needle in my palm. The knobs of his joints dug into my skin. He pushed another thirty-milligram needle closer to my leg. He was strong somehow. A loose flap of his decayed skin scraped against my cheek as we struggled.
I felt vomit rise in the back of my throat.
Muddy entrails seeped from his pelvic bone, leaking onto my bare stomach like a fucked-up money shot. And still he pushed, harder and harder. The needle dimpled my thigh. Bright red blood bubbled beneath it.
You fucking… Silas leaned in closer to my face. Wife-murdering… Several maggots plopped onto my chest and collarbone. Drug…
“Don’t say it.”
Addict.
That was it. It took everything I had, but that fucking phrase woke me up. I pushed back against Silas’s skeletal hand, the bones in his arm creaking. The needle was safely away from my thigh, but he still had a hold on me. Using the remainder of my strength, I brought up my right knee into his stomach. Only it sunk straight into the warm mush of his organs.
“Gah!” I groaned, throwing all my weight against his hand. I watched as a hairline fault formed in his ulna. A rectangular flap of dead skin swayed from his elbow. With a sickening crack of splintering bone, I was free, tossing the needle across the room then flopping onto my stomach. Silas wasn’t pleased.
He stood, frowning – I think – at the hanging ruins that used to be his arm. Light glinted off the top of his skull as he turned his attention back to the needle. Go get it, stupid.
“Agh… No!” I groaned in frustration as I pressed my body into the Berber carpet. Plasticky shreds of the old upholstery scratched against my palms, clearing more of the fog away.
Silas began to approach it. Each thundering step sounded like grenades and cannonballs exploding inside my head. Sweat squeezed from every pore in my body. But I was freezing, shivering against the floor.
He picked up the Oxy. Then came toward me again.
PUT THE FUCKING NEEDLE IN YOUR LEG, ASSHOLE.
“No!” I pounded a fist into the floor as I cried out. Muffled voices started to seep through to my subconscious. Someone was outside. “H-here!” I choked out.
The skeleton in my room hesitated. What?
Atomic bombs began going off in my brain. Electric shocks peppered my body as if I was being tased. The voices grew louder. “I’m…” I coughed. “I’m h-here…”
Shut the fuck up. What is this? Just put—
“Here!” My yell tore at the inside of my throat like a hot iron poker. Slowly, I flipped myself over on the carpet, the fibers scratching against my bare ass. Then I backed as far away from Silas as I possibly could. I backed away until I hit the wall behind me. The voices began to shout. Thundering footsteps padded on the small deck outside the cabin
No!
Silas came toward me, and I shut my eyes tight, pressing my back into the wall. Inhaling deep, I cried, “Please! I’m in here!”
The door crashed into the wall as I opened my eyes again. Three people poured into the room. The empty room. The prefilled needle sat sadly on the carpet in the corner. I no longer had guts, maggots or blood on me. But I was still covered in sweat.
As two people tugged me roughly me off the ground, I thought about how pathetic I was. Laying on the floor of a hotel room, alone. Writhing in pain from withdrawals because I’m a fucking junkie. Having crazy hallucinations because I’m a Goddamn drug addict. A drug addict who’d murdered his wife.
My brain had betrayed me. My body had betrayed me. And I was a mess. I couldn’t walk. I couldn’t function. And I was dangerous.
I was thrown into the back of some van, where I took a chance to open up my mind. And I cried.
Emergency Department Record
Emerald Bluff Hospital
[REDACTED] UT, 84512
[REDACTED
PATIENT: Reynolds, Jack T.
DOB:[REDACTED]
WEIGHT:185 lbs.
HEIGHT:6 ft. 1 in.
PROVIDER:Dr. B, MD
MRN:[REDACTED]
Acct No.: N/A
DOS:[REDACTED]
CHIEF COMPLAINT:Pain in knee from previous trauma
CURRENT MEDS:[REDACTED]
ALLERGIES:PEN
SOURCE:Information obtained from spouse
MODE OF ARRIVAL:Gurney
PREHOSPITAL:
Intervention(s):Removal of bullet and field dress
HISTORY OF PATIENT ILLNESS:Patient is a 35 YO male who presents with a chief complaint of severe pain in the left knee due to past trauma. Physician assessment time was [REDACTED]. Nursing notes were reviewed and the following are my comments: The onset time wa
s approximately 2 year(s) prior. Patient was shot 8 mm(s) to the right of the patella with a .22 caliber bullet. Damage to outside tissue was minimal. MRI shows damage to articular cartilage is moderate and degenerative. No damage to the medial, lateral or anterior cruciate ligaments. The bullet was removed within 2 hour(s). Pain radiates outward from the patella. It is described as “biting, stinging, burning, stabbing and throbbing.” Patient developed an addiction to oxycontin. Last dose was 1 day(s) prior at 80 mg.
My suggestion is to get patient under the knife for a mosaicplasty stat. Because he may not have rigors, shaking or chills, but his wife states he’s always uber hot in bed. [Smiley face]
PAST MEDICAL HISTORY:[REDACTED]
FAMILY HISTORY:[REDACTED]
From the desk of Dr. Lisa Reynolds – June 20
Brendon crashed through the door of my office, his glasses sliding halfway down his nose. “Code! Code, uh… Shit! Code Hubby!”
I stood, my palms braced against the desk. “He’s here?”
Before Brendon even gave me the affirmative, I was in the hallway and running. Our shoes created a cacophony of squeaks in a succession that could have rivaled an orchestra. The nurse’s station was empty. The whole hospital seemed silent except for our footfalls. When we got closer to the room, more nurses and patients began to mill about. Scott waved at me, coming at us the opposite direction. I nodded at him, but only for a second. I didn’t have time.
Jack was in a room at the end of the hall. When I rounded the corner, three nurses were inside doting on him. He was awake, alert and smiling somehow. He didn’t notice me at first because each nurse was fawning over him in a different way.
“You’re so healthy!” One of them giggled.
“It’s nice to see a man who takes care of himself,” said another.
“Okay, ladies!” Brendon clapped his hands, startling everyone. “Spread out.”
They did, leaving the room one after the other while tossing furtive glances back my husband’s way. My blood vessels constricted, causing my stomach to drop. I wondered if it was pride or jealousy. It didn’t matter. Because when I turned back to my husband, he’d stopped smiling and was staring at me. His eyes looked wet.
