by Mandi Lynn
“Wonderful,” Olivia said into the phone. He thought he could hear the ruffle of papers coming from her end of the line. “I also have to inform you that my client intends to jump at the slightest piece of evidence that malpractice has taken place.”
He swallowed. “I assure you, that won’t be necessary.”
“Dr. Ash, I suggest you get a lawyer,” Olivia said. She paused, waiting for a response, and when there was none, she hung up.
Chapter 38
The skin around Willow’s fingers were dry. There was a window beside her bed that let her look out over the parking lot, but she couldn’t look at it. Her attention was continually being drawn back to her fingers. She picked at the cuticles, the fine skin around her fingers. She cursed herself every time she did it, but she couldn’t stop herself.
A hand came out to over hers. She turned her head and saw Randy staring back at her. She didn’t realize he stepped in the room. When she looked past him she saw the doors were closed. His jacket was draped at the edge of her bed and she saw car keys hanging out of his pocket.
“Are we going home?” she asked. She sat up in bed, letting her feet hang over the edge. Randy sat next to her, but he felt far away.
She felt better, or at least she hoped he did. Willow wasn’t sure how long she had been in the hospital bed. For all she knew, she could have been there for days. Her stomach protested against her a lot, but every time the feeling passed, she always fell into a deep sleep. When her eyes finally opened again, she was never sure how much time had passed. If there was a clock in the room, she had yet to find it.
“Not yet,” Randy said. His voice was quiet, but it sounded like he was holding something back. Willow wanted to look closer at him, but he kept his body angled away from her. She could always know everything Randy needed to say by looking at his eyes, but without that she could only assume what he was thinking.
“How was work?” she asked. She smiled and held his hand. She loved the feel of his palms against hers. She knew every inch of Randy’s body. If her eyes were closed and someone held her hand, she would be able to tell if that hand belonged to Randy or not.
“Sam is being transferred to another hospital,” he said. He was looking at her arm when she spoke. She could sense him memorizing the red skin on the inside of her arm. The skin burned, it seemed to always have a tingling sensation that came and went as it pleased, but the sensation grew only when Randy looked at it.
“When?” she said.
“Less then twenty-four hours.”
He let go of her hand and without him, she grew cold. A deep panic set in her chest. Her breathing hitched and her limbs began to quiver. Could Randy see her shaking?
Sam and her, they were intertwined. If Willow couldn’t observe Sam, where was she supposed to go from here? Was she supposed to blindly experiment on herself? How could she make accurate decisions and move forward?
“Sam’s grandfather, Paul, got a lawyer,” Randy said. Willow was trying to listen to him, but the world around was beginning to tilt on its side. She closed her eyes to find balance, but the room only proved to spin wildly.
“Where are they taking her?” she asked.
“Willow, it doesn’t matter where they take her. If anyone does any tests on her, they’ll see something’s wrong and it won’t be long until they put the pieces together and connect things back to us.”
“I’m trying to find the cure,” Willow said. She looked at Randy with half-seeing eyes. He was there in front of her, but it felt like if she reached out her hand, that she would never touch anything. For a moment, it was as if she was suspended in the world. And it was in this suspension that she wanted to stay. Safe, far away from people who wanted to take her away from the cure.
“Willow, listen to me.” Randy grasped her hands. She was sure his grip was light, but for this moment it felt like he was suffocating her. She could imagine his grip, too tight, leaving bruises along her wrist. No, he wouldn’t do that. He would never touch her like that.
She blinked and his fingers were barely brushing her wrist.
“They’re taking her away,” she said. She kept her eyes on her wrist, the way his fingers so gracefully seemed to wrap around her. She told herself to take comfort in his touch.
“Yes, they’re taking her away and they’ll see what you’ve done.” His words were firm. He was reprimanding her.
“I was trying to find a cure,” she said. The words came out as a sob. Her head was spinning, her stomach protesting. She thought for a moment that she may just throw up again. The sensation neither passed or came. “They’ll see that.”
“Willow, they’ll see that you intervened in the life of a healthy young girl. Someone who had a future and you took it away. You infected her, and we don’t know if we can fix that.”
“I can fix it,” Willow said. He eyes held hope, but her body held fear. Every limb was curled to attention. She was ready to run out of the room, but she was afraid she would fall. “That’s what I’ve been trying to do this whole time.”
Willow looked into her husband’s eyes. She wanted him to see her, to know what she was trying to do. He looked back at her, but something was off. It was like he didn’t see her for the person she was. There was a pain in his eyes. When she looked at him, a deep sorrow infected her core.
“I need you to talk to a lawyer,” he said. His words were gentle and clear. He reached out for her hand. She longed for his arms to wrap around her, but his words made her want to push him away.
“No,” she said, but she kept her hands in his.
“It will be okay, Willow. I’ll protect you, you know that. I’ll do everything I can to keep you safe.” His words were pleading. He kept his grip on her hands tight, but she drew herself away.
“I’m not talking to a lawyer,” she said. Her hand tensed, the muscles contracting. Randy began to massage her palm which only seemed to infuriate her more.
“There’s no other way.”
She pulled her hand away from his. The two were like Velcro, tight and intertwined. When she drew away, there was a rip, a protest, yet she could still be separated. Her hand was raw.
“I refuse to let anyone interfere with what we’ve been working for,” Willow said. As she spoke, her lungs begin to burn. The burn was beginning to feel natural. She knew it was the vaccine that was making her lungs set ablaze, so she welcomed it with open arms. With the burn came the urge to cough. She let her lungs clear themselves, but once she began coughing she feared she wouldn’t be able to stop. Each cough required her entire body and with each movement the burning in her lungs grew.
“Breathe,” Randy said. He sat with his hand on her back. She leaned forward and leaned her elbows on her thighs for support. Her body was quivering, and she tried to control it. If she relaxed her muscles, she feared she would fall over.
Willow was aware of each inch of skin on her body. It was the only thing distracting her from the pain in her lungs and throat. Her body was alive with its own vibrations. Every touch against her skin was ten-fold. The fabric of the hospital gown was too abrasive, the mattress too soft, Randy’s hand on her back too heavy. She was suffocating under the touch.
“Stop!” she screamed. The voice came out high. Her eyes were clenched shut, her fingers wrapped tight around the blanket that was covering her legs. The weight from her back lifted and her body began to shiver. She coughed again, this time the taste of iron coated her tongue.
“Shit.”
She heard the words, but she wasn’t sure who spoke them anymore. Her eyes were open but the only things she could focus on was her hands resting against her legs.
Something rough brushed against the corners of Willow’s mouth and she pushed it away. When she coughed again, whatever it was came back to cover her mouth. She thought she saw something red. It was blood, she was sure of it.
She coughed again and brought her fingers to the edge of her lip. When she pulled her hand away the tips of her fingers were a
bright crimson.
“Willow, hold this,” the voice said. Whoever it was put something in her hand. It was some sort of fabric, rough to the touch. The person guided the fabric in her hand to her mouth. “Hold it there.” The person pulled their hand away, leaving a trail of numbness against the back of Willow’s palm. She coughed. She wasn’t sure if she would be able to stop coughing. Her lungs were suffocating.
The room was spinning, and even if it hadn’t, everything in her vision was a blur. She knew her hand was in front of her face, but all she could make out was the light pink scheme of her skin. A cloth was held to her mouth. It was growing heavier, her arms growing weaker. There was a bright red stain in the room.
She was alone. The voice that had been in the room with her was gone. She listened for movement in the room, but no matter how hard she tried, there was nothing but silence surrounding her. The stillness was deafening.
Her body started to go numb, beginning with her toes. Just when she thought she wouldn’t be able to take the pain any longer, just when she thought she might scream out, begging for the pain to go away, something changed. At first she thought she had grown numb to the pain, but that wasn’t it. From the tips of her toes, slowly going up, she was healing. The sensation inched its way up her body, but as it spread the places the pain remained grew deeper, urgent.
The healing spread to her feet, up her legs to her knees. She wasn’t in control anymore. She was detached from the physical world. If she was still in the hospital, she was unsure. For now, she was floating. The lower half of her body was in cool water, the upper half was dancing in fire.
Willow let out a deep howl as the healing spread up her torso. She could feel it reaching her fingertips. She screamed until she felt like she couldn’t anymore.
“Breathe, Willow!”
The voice startled her. Arms were wrapped around her. Fingers were touching her body, examining every inch. The fire was still there, but she could feel the healing retreating back down to her legs, her feet, her toes, until it was gone, replaced only by burning.
She opened her eyes to the hospital bed. People were standing around her, every inch of the room was occupied.
“Her eyes are open again,” a voice said.
There were other words, mumbles as the team worked over her. Feeling was coming back to her body, and with it the burning began to ease enough to allow other senses to creep in. The taste of iron was thick in her mouth. A hand came in from her right side to wipe her face. From the left came another hand, this one placing an oxygen mask over her mouth. The air was cool, and as soon as she breathed it in, it was like her lungs were finally about to expand again.
“Her vitals are returning to normal.”
Willow blinked. She recognized the voice. It was Randy. If she concentrated hard enough, she thought she could see him standing by her. She blinked again. Was it really him? She thought she saw him look up at her, but before she could be sure, the fire seeped back through her veins.
Chapter 39
The room was blurry. Willow blinked but nothing came into focus so she counted each blink until her eyes found themselves in the room. She lost count and lost herself in a loop of numbers without realizing it.
“Eighteen, nineteen, twenty, sixteen, seventeen.” She continued to whisper to herself with each flutter of the eye. Were the numbers in the correct order? She found her focus enough to see her feet at the other end of the bed. The room was dark.
Her senses were overwhelming. There was still a prickle of fire in her skin, begging to be put out. She hushed it away with her thoughts. She tried to count her blinking once again.
“Eighteen, nineteen, twenty,” she said to herself. She forgot why she started counting in the first place or why she was in a hospital gown.
“How’s she been doing?” It was a voice in the hall. Willow recognized the voice from somewhere, but couldn’t pinpoint exactly where.
“Better I think. We still haven’t figured out what happened in the first place.”
It was a second voice. They were growing quieter. Were they walking away?
Willow found her toes and curled her legs to her chest and twisted herself until her toes hung off the edge of her bed. Her movements were careful as she let her feet fall to the floor and guide her out into the hallway.
She was losing herself again. Her mind ran in a panic, trying to find reason. She tested herself, trying to dig up memories but they never came. What was her birthday? What was today’s date? All these simple facts were slipping from her.
The lights were bright once she left the room and the hall was silent. She wandered, listening to the hushed breathing coming from the rooms to her left and right as she walked. There were sounds of soft snoring as she tip-toed through the hall. It wasn’t until she looked down that she saw she was only wearing a thin pair of socks.
Some of the rooms she passed had beeping noises and she ignored them. She wasn’t sure where she was going. She only knew she would find her way eventually.
The halls were long and winding. Willow’s body knew where she was, but her mind had left her abandoned. She followed silently behind a nurse that scanned her card to go through the locked doors.
Her panic is what guided her forward. The simple things she forgot, but she knew a way to fix it. She had to try with all her might to remember where the vaccine had been stored. She didn’t know exactly where she needed to go, only that she was heading in the right direction.
The insistent beeping stopped once the doors closed. The silence was mind-numbing, but a door stood out to Willow. Dr. Randy Ash. She stepped through before anyone entered the hall to see where she had gone.
The office smelled like Randy, like the cologne he put on every day. Her mind stirred the longer she was in the room. Randy’s face, a silhouette in the dark, seemed to find her when she closed her eyes. And then all she could see was her father. Her father, not knowing who she was. Her father, dying out on the street. Her father, diseased with the same sickness that was claiming her as each second passed.
Willow stumbled to the floor, her body shaking. She felt like her father, the way he always curled in on himself, and now she feared her mind was being lost the same way his had so many years ago.
It was an instinct that brought Willow over to the safe. She couldn’t remember what was locked behind the thick metal door, only that it was something that would help her. It was with desperate fingers that she turned the dial on the safe, always seeming to get the numbers wrong. Her mind, too frantic, couldn’t focus on the task in front of her. The numbers ran through her mind, her fingers twisting the dial until she heard a click. The latch moved.
She wasn’t sure what she had done, what sequence of numbers she had put in, only that the door to the safe opened, almost unprovoked.
It curled opened on its hinge, a loud screech filling the room. Willow looked behind her to the door to the office. It was closed.
The safe was filled with papers and a few beaten down notebooks. She skimmed her fingers over the papers but nothing seemed right. It wasn’t until she reached into the back of the safe that she felt something. A lump. Cold glass. Relief was at her fingertips.
Willow pushed the papers aside and pulled out a glass vile filled with a clear liquid. Thin memories of filling a syringe filled her mind, and almost immediately she stashed the liquid in her underwear, pressed up against her hip bones. Her hospital gown suddenly felt too thin.
She ran out of the room, never bothering to close the safe or the door to Randy’s office. She didn’t find her way back to her room easily. The vial held against her skin was cold, a constant reminder it was present. She walked slow, too fearful that it might fall and shatter, the glass sending shards across the hall.
She let her body guide her, rather than her mind. Her mind wanted sleep, but her body wanted something else, something hidden in the halls of the hospital. When she reached the nurse’s cart out in the hall there was a sense of relief. Vials, j
ust like the one Willow was hiding, laid out on the cart, but that wasn’t what drew her eye. There was a syringe laid out, the needle perfectly sanitized, cap still on.
It was second nature when Willow reached her hand out and took the syringe in her grasp. There was a breeze at Willow’s back as she reached under the hospital gown to grasp the vial she had hidden. She bit the cap off the top of the syringe and stuck it into the rubber cap of the vial, watching as the syringe filled with the liquid.
She should have sanitized the portion of her arm that she was about to stick, but there were a lot of things she should have been doing.
The pain from the needle was sharper than she remembered, or maybe it was Willow’s subconscious trying to tell her to stop. Either way, it was with a steady hand that Willow administered the last of the remaining liquid from the vial. When it was finally emptied, she pulled the needle away from her arm and dropped it on the nurse’s cart. The needle glistened back at her, mocking.
She watched the vial glint in the light. Her head spun, the needle feeling all too familiar in her arm. That’s when she had the vague sense that she’d been here before. She had forgotten she had already administered the vaccine once, but by the time the realization occurred to her, the liquid was already working its way through her body.
Her arm was pulsing. The room around her began to spin and shift until she couldn’t feel her feet on the ground anymore. Each limb in her body was turning to liquid. Thoughts ran through her head. Had she done this to herself? Was it the medication or her panic? She began wheezing and it wasn’t until then that she realized she couldn’t breathe.
She put her hand out for support and that’s when she realized she was already on the ground. The tile felt cool against her skin, and suddenly that’s all she could think about. As the fire ignited in her core and a black screen seemed to descend over her eyes, she felt the tile. Cool, inviting. Home.
Chapter 40
