Deadly Design - Emarsan Page 0,96
does. I wonder what she’d be willing to do to turn back time.
To be able to race her grandchild through the park and actually win because even though she’s lived decades longer, she’s not aging. But Virginia’s blue eyes are soft and filled with concern and compassion. Claudia’s eyes have never been anything but small and black, just like her brother’s.
“Dr. Claudia Bartholomew is a bitch,” I say. “A coldhearted bitch.”
I wait for her to start defending the great doctor, but she just nods slightly.
“We need to do some things before I move you.” Virginia goes to a small metal cabinet with several drawers. She takes out a Band-Aid and a cotton ball. She quickly removes the IV
needle from my forearm, then presses the cotton ball to it, 2 8 3
Copyright © 2015 by Debra Dockter.
FOR REVIEWING PURPOSES ONLY--NOT FOR SALE
followed by the Band-Aid. “Would you like to choose which one to take out next?”
“Which one?” There’s the tube in my stomach, but other than that . . . oh, shit.
“Let’s get the worst over with first. I won’t lie. It’s going to hurt; it’s been there for a while. Just keep breathing and find a happy place.”
“I can do it,” I say, as she puts on a pair of gloves.
She peels the thin blanket off of me, and quickly takes hold of the tube and of me. “Like pulling off a Band-Aid. One, two . . .” She pulls at the catheter, and it feels like a hot knitting needle being yanked out of me.
“Fuck!” I gasp, wanting to curl up, but the incisions in my stomach stop me.
“Now for the last one,” she says, rather matter-of-factly, and I’m glad she’s experienced.
“Is that a feeding tube?” I ask.
“It is.” She goes back to the metal drawers and takes out a handful of small packets and a large bandage. She swaps the area with one of the packets, wiggles the tube just a little, then slowly starts to pull it out. To my relief, it doesn’t hurt that much, or maybe it’s just that with everything else hurting, the pain blends in. When she’s done, there’s a hole in my abdomen about the diameter of a drinking straw. Blood and the remnants of what looks like a melted milkshake seep out of it. Virginia sanitizes the area again, then applies the bandage.
“Will it keep leaking?”
2 8 4
Copyright © 2015 by Debra Dockter.
FOR REVIEWING PURPOSES ONLY--NOT FOR SALE
“The hole in your stomach and in your skin will heal up pretty fast.”
“So that’s how they’ve been feeding me?”
She nods. “That’s how I’ve been feeding you. I’m so sorry. I should have suspected something sooner, but I’ve never had a reason not to trust Dr. Bartholomew. She said that if you weren’t kept in a coma, the pain from your disease would be unbearable. Your records are stored on a computer. All your medications are listed there, and each time I give you anything, I log it in the computer file. But there’s information that should be there that isn’t. I could never understand that. There’s not even a diagnosis or any records or surgeries or procedures. But now I know you have a separate file, one only Dr. Bartholomew has access to, the one she was holding. I even tried to get into her office to find it, but everything was locked up tight. I wanted to know for sure . . .”
I think she’s going to start crying, but instead, she makes two fists and tightens her arms like she’s ready for a fight.
“Time to get you out of here,” she says, taking a phone from her pocket. She dials a number and waits. “Gene, I was right.
Are you sure you want to help?” She waits, then nods with the phone pressed to her ear. “Let’s do it,” she says, then ends the call. “I’ll be right back.”
Virginia goes to the door and peers out into the hallway. She gives me a thumbs-up, then disappears into the hall. Within a few minutes, she’s back, pushing a wheelchair into the room.
“There aren’t very many patients on this floor. And visiting 2 8 5
Copyright © 2015 by Debra Dockter.
FOR REVIEWING PURPOSES ONLY--NOT FOR SALE
hours are long over, so we shouldn’t run into anyone. We just have to get you down to the first floor.”
She comes toward me, taking a syringe out of her pocket.
“What’s that for?”
“Pain. You’ll thank me, I promise. Now roll over a little.”
I try to roll over, to expose at