Chaos (Lanie Bross) - Lanie Bross Page 0,2

sat rumbling. Jasmine could smell the diesel in the air as men in yellow hardhats moved around the street, patching gaps in the sidewalk. A lamppost sagged close to the ground, and the fence of a parking lot bowed out toward the street.

California Pacific Medical Center was in walking distance, but she moved slowly, still recovering from the headache. She wondered about her dad’s sudden change of heart. Why check himself into a program now? She could barely remember that warm, caring father—the one who threw her up in the air and called her his princess. Maybe deep down, she had always hoped he’d come back.

Jasmine passed a small café and could almost smell the roasted beans and buttery pastries. Her stomach churned, but she couldn’t be sure if it was the smell of food or her own nerves. What if her dad wasn’t really there? Or worse, what if he was sicker than Luc had suggested?

A deep pain returned to her temples, and Jasmine rubbed at the spots with her fingers. The light and noise drove tiny knives into her skull. The sounds of construction surrounded her—men drilling into the concrete and dump trucks collecting debris. It was too much. Every sound built on another until it reached a crescendo.

Jas walked faster, and she caught her breath when the hospital entrance came into sight. She had been brought here when she overdosed, and hoped to never come back. And now, here she was.

She needed to sit down for a minute, to tune everything out.

The doors whooshed open and Jasmine walked to the reception desk, leaning on it as she regained her senses. The smell of chemicals made her stomach flip.

“Are you okay?” the woman at the desk asked. She looked concerned.

“Yes—yes, of course,” Jasmine stammered. “I’m here to see a patient. Jack Simmons?”

The woman nodded, then tapped on her keyboard. Jasmine looked around and realized how chaotic it was. Nurses and doctors hurried up and down the hallways, and the waiting room was overrun with people. A man was being treated in the hallway, a nurse in green scrubs wrapping a white bandage around his head. A doctor in a lab coat pushed along a woman in a wheelchair, barely missing Jasmine’s foot.

Jas swallowed uncomfortably.

“Room one twenty-nine,” the woman behind the desk said. “Down the hall, take the first right, and then push through the double doors and take a left.”

“Thank you,” Jasmine said. She willed her feet to move down the hallway. The deeper she went into the hospital, the stronger the smell of disinfectant was. It clawed at her throat, and she had to cover her mouth and put her head down.

The gray tiles under her feet didn’t change as she walked, so she turned left and started to count them. When she got to twenty-two, she looked up and saw that she was only steps away from the room number the woman at the front desk had given her.

One twenty-nine.

Jasmine stood at the doorway. A soft beep-beep came from a machine at her father’s bedside. The overwhelming scent of antiseptic filled her lungs.

This was a mistake. She turned and almost ran into a nurse.

“Hello. Are you a relative?” the nurse asked.

“His daughter,” Jasmine managed to get out around her constricted throat. “Is he okay?”

“He’s suffering from severe alcohol withdrawal. It’s a good thing he checked himself into our detoxification program when he did.”

“And how long will he be here?” She avoided looking in her father’s direction. He looked small and sickly against the white sheets of the hospital bed.

“He’ll need to meet with a mental-health professional. Then he’ll begin a weeklong inpatient stay.” The woman placed her tray down and checked his monitor. “He was given a sedative to help with the withdrawal symptoms for now, but you can say hello if you’d like.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Jas said, backing away from the bed.

“But there are no visitors allowed during the program.…”

“You said it was a week long?” Jas asked. “I can wait until he’s out.” She’d gone a week without seeing her dad before. At least he was here instead of passed out at O’Rourke’s pub. She didn’t want to say hello; she wanted to run away as fast as possible. The lights overhead made dots dance in her vision, and the sickly-sweet scent of hand sanitizer coated her tongue. She needed to get out, now.

She turned and ran.

At the end of the hall, she saw a bright red Exit sign and focused on it.

The