A Five-Minute Life

by Emma Scott

  “Joaquin’s cleaning up. All other residents are safe.”

  The rec room door opened, and Joaquin came out with the mop bucket and a plastic bag, heavy with the bloody coils of the dead snake. I’d offered to do the cleaning, but Delia didn’t want me out of her sight.

  “All good, boss,” he said. He gave me a sympathetic glance and rolled the mop bucket down the hall.

  “How on earth did a snake make its way into our walls in the first place, Mr. Waters?” Anna asked.

  “A hole in the exterior wall that should have been fixed days ago,” Alonzo said. “I take full responsibility.”

  I whipped my head toward him. Alonzo had called maintenance a dozen times to fix the hole in the supply closet, and no one showed up. I opened my mouth, but he shot me a hard look and shook his head.

  “I see,” Anna said.

  “Do you see?” Delia snapped. “A deadly rattlesnake got into this facility and my sister—under your care—tried to kill herself with it.”

  I flinched at the words.

  Like Cleopatra. She put her hand in the snake’s basket because she’s so fucking alone…

  “Given the eyewitness reports,” Anna said slowly, “I’m not sure that’s an accurate assessment of what Miss Hughes was doing.”

  “No, she’s just an animal lover,” Delia said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “She was merely trying to pet a deadly snake. And you forget—I was an eyewitness too. I saw what she did.”

  “Ms. Hughes—”

  “Thea was doing just fine until he showed up.” She jerked her chin in my direction.

  “Jim saved her life,” Rita said quietly.

  “Jim put her life in jeopardy in the first place,” Delia snapped. “Thea was perfectly happy drawing her drawings. But he took it upon himself to alter her treatment plan, without her unavailable doctor’s consent or consultation, and this is the result.”

  She was right, but something still itched the back of my thoughts. Thea had been happy for days before, creating her masterpiece. It’d only been recently that she’d spiraled down.

  Still trying to play doctor? Doris sneered. You big dummy.

  Anna folded her hands in front of her. “Ms. Hughes, I can assure you—”

  “You can assure me of nothing,” Delia said. “Dr. Stevens has vanished. Unqualified staff members are deciding what’s best for Thea. And there was a poisonous snake inside the recreation room.”

  She fixed us each with a cold stare, then gave an irritated sigh and checked her watch again.

  “I have to go. I actually have a life of my own that needs attention. I’ll be back on Monday for a meeting with Dr. Poole and Dr. Stevens.” She gave Anna a hard look. “Make it happen. Meanwhile, I don’t want this man”—she jabbed her finger at me—“anywhere near my sister. I want him gone. Now.”

  “Ms. Hughes,” Anna said. “We do not have all the facts. Dr. Stevens needs to hear the entire story and examine Thea himself before we begin arbitrarily releasing staff members.”

  Delia’s eyes flared. “Arbitrarily?”

  “However, given the severity of the situation and the fact Mr. Whelan and Nurse Soto both acted without authority or permission…” She gave first me, then Rita a hard look. “I feel a three-day suspension for Mr. Whelan is appropriate. Unfortunately, I simply can’t afford to have Nurse Soto absent.”

  “Of course not,” Delia said. “This place is barely functioning as it is.” She shouldered her purse. “I’ll be back on Monday for that conference. If either of the doctors fail to show up, I will remove my sister—and her money—and find another facility that cares about its patients.”

  When she was gone, Anna turned her hard look on all three of us. “There is a temporary fix to the outer wall, Mr. Waters?”

  Alonzo nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “And Miss Hughes is stable?”

  “She is,” Rita said.

  “We’ll keep her on twenty-four hour watch,” Anna said. “If there’s no improvement in her condition tomorrow morning, we’ll extend it to forty-eight. Hopefully, no further measures will need to be taken.”

  She turned to me. “Your three-day suspension begins now, Mr. Whelan. Be ready to attend the meeting with the director and Dr. Stevens on Monday. I suspect they’ll want to hear from you.”

  I nodded. In the past, the idea of talking in front of people would have made my blood run cold. Now my thoughts were for Thea. She’d been so happy painting and then it all went to shit.

  “Jim?” Alonzo said, weighing my name heavily with disappointment.

  “I’m going,” I said.

  On the way to the break room to change out of my uniform, Rita caught up with me.

  “I’m sorry, Jim,” she said. “This isn’t right.”

  “You’re working tomorrow?”

  “Yes. They can’t spare a single nurse or else I’d be going home, too.”

  “Will you text me that she’s okay? Please?”

  “Of course.”

  I walked out of Blue Ridge feeling like I was betraying Thea. Breaking a promise. I was supposed to fight for her, but what could I do? If I refused to leave, they’d think I was a psycho and have me arrested.

  You didn’t protect her. Doris sneered. You fucked her up more. Go home, you big dummy, and leave your broken-down girl to the professionals.

  That was likely the truth—I’d hurt her when I was trying to help, but the gnawing in my stomach grew stronger and stronger the further my motorcycle took me away from Blue Ridge.

  At home, I sat on my couch in the falling dark, wracking my brain for what went wrong. Thea had been so happy, dancing to her music, and her painting was perfect until…

  Black streaks across the blue of the sky. Black against the perfection of the Empire State Building. Black mourning bands. Something lost. Something ruined.

  I pulled my guitar on my lap and sang Pearl Jam’s “Black.”

  All the pictures, washed in black…

  I sang and played, not caring if the neighbors heard. My hands hit the strings harder, slapping instead of strumming. My voice raised until the lyrics vibrated my bones.

  Turned my world to black…

  The last notes faded. Something turned Thea’s world to black, and I was going to get kicked out of Blue Ridge before I could find out what. I put the guitar away, disgusted and helpless, and fell into a fitful sleep.

  Around nine the next morning, when I knew Thea would have eaten breakfast, I texted Rita: How is she?

  The answer came a few minutes later: Was just about to text you. Better. She ate something today, seems a little more like herself.

  Relief and pain gripped me as I typed, Glad she’s okay.

  Because I’m not there. It’s better for her. This is better.

  So far so good, Rita texted. I’ll keep you posted.

  The hours crawled. The day was hot and sticky and quiet. My phone chimed with another text from Rita around two o’clock. Thea’s rec time.

  She’s drawing again. Word chains. Egypt. Darker stuff than her usual, but Anna’s taking her off watch.

  I stared at the words. Good. Thea was better. It was all that mattered.

  Thanks, Rita. I guess it was painting that triggered her after all.

  The reply came quick. IDK. She was happy painting. And happy taking her FAE with you. But maybe the painting was it.

  Point taken. I fucked up because I was just an orderly. Not a damn doctor. Stupid of me to try.

  I heated a frozen dinner in the microwave, hardly tasting it. The night grew blacker. The silence outside deeper. Like Thea’s silence, I imagined. Deep and dark and endless.

  Around ten, I thought about going to sleep, but something kept scratching at the inside of my consciousness. I grabbed my phone and scrolled through Rita’s texts.

  She’s drawing again. Word chains. Egypt. Darker stuff than her usual…

  Darker than usual. What did that mean?

  It means she’s still re
covering from the snake incident.

  But the answer wouldn’t stick. The itch dug in deeper, with claws.

  I typed a text to Rita, Send me a photo of Thea’s drawing?

  A pause. The rolling dots of a response came then, I’m in the parking lot.

  Please. I need to see it.

  Another pause, and then, Hold on.

  My chest was tight as I waited. Finally, a photo appeared on my phone. A desert bathed in shadow. Clouds darkening the sky. A pyramid casting a long slant of darkness. And in the center, a coiled snake made of words. If Thea was talking through her word chains, then this was her story.

  Asp rasp gasp last late hate help hell fell flesh flush force flow know no no no

  That collection of words made my throat go dry. Help. Hell. No.

  I went back to the word chain. Round and round the coil. I had to hold the phone still and tilt my head, reading upside down and sideways.

  Touch much crush creak weak wake why cry stop stop stop

  My heart began to pound so loud that blood thrashed in my ears.

  Cleopatra was alone, Thea had said. She put her hand in the snake’s basket to end the pain.

  “What pain, Thea?” I whispered.

  I put the phone down on the table and walked around the image, as the chain kept coiling tighter and tighter. The words lashed out at me, piercing my heart.

  Hand man pan pant grip grope groan lone alone alone alone

  “No,” I whispered, the blood draining from my face. “Holy fuck, no.”

  I hit Call on my phone. It rang once and Rita picked up.

  “Jim, I’m going home,” she said. “Enough. It was the painting. You… we shouldn’t have messed with it. And I shouldn’t be sending you photos—”

  “You said she was better this m-m-morning,” I said, cursing my goddamn stutter. Inhale. Exhale. “But last night, she was watched, right? A n-n-nurse was in her room?”

  He’s been going in her room.

  “Yes, but—”

  “That’s why she was better,” I said, rage and horror flushing through me, washing out my stutter, flooding every particle of my being. “Because he couldn’t get to her. But the nights before that…”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Brett Dodson’s lazy smile rose up in my mind, along with his promise that he’d find a way to keep his night shifts interesting.

  Fuck, what’s he been doing to her?

  Words flashed before my eyes.

  Flesh. Force. Grope. Stop.

  Three times, she’s screamed stop on the page. And no. She screamed no.

  I was holding the phone so tightly; it was in danger of being crushed. I squeezed my eyes shut against the constriction in my chest.

  “He couldn’t get to her, Rita. But tonight he can.”

  “Who?” Rita asked. “No one can get into resident rooms. They’re locked. Only the duty nurse has the key.”

  “Mary Flint?” I shouted. “She sleeps all night. He took the key. He’s been going in her room.”

  “Who?”

  “Brett Dodson,” I said. “He works the n-n-night shift…”

  I couldn’t get another word out. God, I was so fucking stupid. He all but told me his plan, and I hadn’t heard. But Thea told me… Told all of us.

  Inhale. Exhale. “Go back,” I told Rita. “Please, go back to her room.”

  “Jim, I’m tired. I’ve been working six fifteen-hour shifts in a row. My husband hasn’t seen me—”

  “Brett Dodson is why she’s been melting down,” I said, fighting for calm. “Please, Rita. It’s him. He’s the reason she did it. He’s why Thea…”

  Put her hand in the asp’s basket. Because she thought she was alone. My enemy made sure she was alone.

  “The resident rooms are locked,” Rita was saying. Her voice sounded different now. Cooler. Calmer. The way she spoke to residents who were irrational and upset. “I’m going home now.”

  “Rita.”

  “No one can get into resident rooms,” she said again, louder. “It’s not possible. Mary Flint is a friend of mine. I have to go.”

  “Rita, wait—”

  “I’m hanging up, Jim.”

  The click in my ear was soft but might as well have been a door slamming.

  Alonzo. I had to call him and tell him…

  Tell him what? That I had a completely unfounded accusation against Brett? One that conveniently took the blame off me? I already looked like a pathetic loser with a crush on a brain-damaged girl, one step away from obsessed.

  But fuck, what did it matter what they thought of me? I knew I was right. Every time I thought about Brett, the surety was like a bucket of ice water dumped on my head. Over and over again. Putting his hands on Thea. Doing things to her…

  I called Alonzo but got his voicemail.

  “Alonzo, this is Jim. Where are you? Pull Brett from the night shift. Tell him to go home. Order him to go home.” I yanked on my boots. “He’s hurting Thea. Call me back.”

  I threw on my jacket, grabbed my keys and helmet and headed out. The moon was a huge silver orb in a black sky. I rode my bike to the sanitarium and pulled up to the guard booth. Ted Johnson was on night shift. He raised his brow when I lifted my visor.

  “Word is you’re on a three-day suspension, Whelan.”

  “Yep,” I said. “But I left my cell phone in the break room. Let me just run in and grab it? Five minutes.”

  Ted frowned. “All right. But Hank Morris is on patrol tonight. I’m going to radio him if you’re not out in five.”

  Good, I thought. Hank was a former college linebacker. If my suspicion was correct, I might need him to keep me from killing Brett.

  “Thanks, Ted.”

  I rode up the hill, then shut off the engine before I got to the parking lot to keep it quiet. I speed-walked the bike to the front door, leaned it against the wall and went in. George Baker was at the front desk. Unlike Jules, he actually did his job.

  “Forgot my cell,” I said. “Ted said I could get it.”

  Slowly George reached for his desk phone. “We’ll see.” He pushed a button. Sweat dripped down my back as precious seconds slipped away. Was Brett already in Thea’s room? I closed my eyes against the thought and when I opened them again, George was off the phone and waving me in.

  “Five minutes.”

  “Yep.”

  I walked casually past George, and once out of his sight and hearing, I took the stairs two at a time, racing up the two flights to the residents’ quarters. I forced myself to slow down and get my breathing quiet. I prayed I’d catch Brett as he was unlocking the door to Thea’s room. Prayed I’d get there before he did anything to her.

  Most of all, I prayed I was wrong about everything. I wanted nothing more than to see Brett shooting the shit with Mary or playing solitaire at a table in the corner. I’d gladly lose my job or be thrown in jail if it meant I was wrong.

  I wasn’t wrong.

  Mary Flint was fast asleep behind her fence at the nurse’s station; door was ajar. The key to room 314 was missing from its hook.

  Now I didn’t care about silence. Blood burned through my veins as I pounded down the quiet hall to Thea.

  Chapter 14

  Thea

  The bed dips behind me, making the mattress creak. In a half sleep, I become aware of someone lying next to me. A body curled into mine, a broad chest to my back. Stubble on the back of my neck.

  It’s a man.

  His panting breath—sour with cigarette smoke—wafts over my cheek. My arm is pulled back and his hand grips mine. Behind me and between us, my fingers are curled around something both warm and hard.

  The man holds me there. His fingers guide my hand. Warm skin slides over the hardness. Up and down. Over and over. He groans and my heart crashes in my chest.

  I open my eyes for the first time.

  It’s dim. A shaft of moonlight falls over the bed.

  I crane my head to look behind me. Beady
eyes in a pale face that is silvery in the moonlight. Black hair. The man is silver and black.

  My heart pounds and blood rushes to my ears. It’s hard to breathe. There was the accident, and now I’m in this room. With this man. Touching him. He’s making me touch him.

  This isn’t right.

  How did I get here? How much time have I lost?

  “Wh-Who are you? How long has it been?”

  “Goddamn, you’re a broken record,” he says, laughing. “You don’t remember, but this is our thing. We had to skip last night, so now I need it more.”

  I struggle to pull my hand away but he’s crushing my fingers. Squeezing harder. Up and down.

  “No,” I say. “Stop.”

  I pull away but I’m under the covers and he’s on top. Pinning me. I can’t move but for my hands. I reach over my shoulder and slap him. The sting flares over my palm. The man grunts, and with his free hand, he grabs my hair and yanks my head back. Terror slithers over my skin with the pain.

  “You don’t do that again.”

  “You’re hurting me,” I gasp.

  “Shh,” he whispers over my ear. His grip on my hair softens. He strokes it as his other hand makes me stroke him. “Don’t fight me. You’re my girl, remember? You want this.”

  “No,” I whisper. “This isn’t right…”

  “You promised. The other night. The hand stuff has been fun, but you promised more tonight.”

  I shake my head. Hot tears are gathering in my eyes. “I don’t… I don’t know you.”

  “Sure you do. I told you. I’m your boyfriend. Brett. You had an accident, but you’re back. And now we’re going to do all the things boyfriends and girlfriends do.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut and curl into myself. I search my memory for Brett but find nothing but emptiness. He moves to sit up and makes me sit up beside him. He’s stroking himself now, jutting out from white uniform pants.

  I’m alone. The man is here with me but I’m so alone.

  He chuckles at my expression. “You don’t like this? Don’t worry. In a few minutes, you won’t remember anyway.” His hand slinks back into my hair, to pull my head down. “And you promised—”

  The door slams open so hard, it rebounds off the wall. The mirror over the dresser falls and shatters. A scream erupts out of me as a man in black leather and heavy boots crosses the room in two long strides. The shadows and light dance over his handsome face that’s twisted in rage.