Untouched The Girl in the Box - By Robert J. Crane Page 0,60

of some kind, but it was difficult to see with the bar across my abdomen.

Also, I had an itch on my nose and had to pee worse than I’ve ever had to before.

I didn’t want to say anything, but those two urgent needs brought words to my lips faster than anything else could have. “Hello?” I was hesitant, almost as if I was afraid of who would answer.

The door to Dr. Perugini’s office opened and she stepped out, her hair pulled back. I heard the click of her high heeled shoes on the floor and when she got close enough, saw the weariness in her eyes as she stifled a yawn. “I’ve grown so tired of you I can’t help but fall asleep in your presence.”

“I’ve grown tired of being here, Doc.” I chafed under the bands keeping me in the bed. “When can I leave?” I felt tension as I waited for her answer.

I was surprised when it was hysterical laughter. She bent double, hand over her face, clutching at her sides. After a few minutes, she stopped, letting out one last chuckle (that I suspected was fake) and turned serious, looking daggers at me. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, her voice rising, “it takes a while to REGROW AN ENTIRE HAND!” She shook her head self-righteously and took a needle out of her pocket.

“Hold up,” came a voice from the door. I looked past her as she turned and saw Dr. Zollers standing there, hands folded over his sweater vest. “Don’t administer that just yet.” He walked over to the bed and looked me over. “Living a little rough, Sienna?”

“What can I say? I live a hard-knock life.” There was a steady, thrumming pain coming from my missing hand. I had a suspicion that I was getting some new nerve growth.

Zollers chuckled. “I wasn’t even talking about that. I was talking about the personality conflict you’ve got going on inside. You know, you versus the beast within?” He leaned closer. “It’d be a hard thing, living your life when you’ve got Wolfe in your head.”

I blinked at him in disbelief, and I felt all the blood drain from my face. “How did you know?”

“Old Man Winter told me,” he said, straightening back up. Perugini watched him with a glare and he smiled at her. “He’s suspected for a while now. But thanks for confirming it.”

“I didn’t want to tell anyone,” I said. I felt the slow gut-wrench of fear settle over me. If they weren’t going to lock me away before for aiding Gavrikov, this would surely do it. “I figured you’d all think I was crazy—or worse. And when he started taking over my body—”

“You should have said something.” He pulled out a needle of his own and pulled the cap off it with his teeth. “We might be able to control him with medication. Or some dog treats.” He smiled.

“So that’s what makes a good headshrinker,” Dr. Perugini said with a roll of her eyes, “an overdeveloped sense of irony and a willingness to engage in psychopharmacology.

“That and a bitchin’ sweater vest collection.” He tugged on the front of his outfit. “You like?”

Dr. Perugini snorted in disgust. “She’s in a lot of pain. She needs something to help with that.”

He raised an eyebrow at her then looked down at me in the bed. “Pain she can deal with, I think. Crazy is a whole different problem, and typically more serious. Make no mistake, having Wolfe as a mental hitchiker means you are opened up to all sorts of crazy.”

I gulped. “Will this make him go away?”

“I doubt it,” Zollers said. “This is just gonna take the edge off a little. It’s called Chloridamide. It’s a low-grade antipsychotic; it hasn’t quite passed the FDA yet, but I think it’ll be just the thing to keep you calm for a bit while we work out what to do.”

I smiled weakly. “Any side effects?”

He shrugged. “Nausea, vomiting, burning while urinating, blood loss, diarrhea, liver failure, renal failure, heart failure, cancer, tumors, paralysis-”

“Nice.” I faked a smile. “You’re joking, right?”

He laughed. “Wouldn’t matter if I was serious. You’re a meta, you shrug off all that stuff.” He took a sterile swab from Dr. Perugini and rubbed it along my arm where my sleeve was rolled up. “Except the burning while urinating. That would probably still sting.”

“There’s a cautionary tale in there somewhere,” I said, sarcasm tingeing my words. “How did Old Man Winter know I was carrying around Wolfe with