24. Elena
Ihate hospitals.
The smells of bleach and other chemical cleaners, the din of beeping machines, and the look of trepidation on everyone’s faces as they wait for their loved ones. I don’t think anyone likes hospitals, except maybe the doctors who work here to save lives. I hope that’s what they’re doing—saving Trixie’s life. The ambulance got here moments before we did. I rode with the director, but the others took the subway. Now we all wait for her.
I perch on the edge of the wooden and vinyl chair lined up in a row along the wall of the emergency room’s waiting area. Celia and Schrader hover by the vending machines, both of them still in costume. I never got a chance to put mine on yet. The instant I entered my dressing room, I saw her lying on the ground. Stupid! Stupid, Trixie, going into my dressing room and taking my chocolates. It should be me. Those were my chocolates.
“Hey, hon, it’s gonna be okay.” Warren sits next to me holding two cups of coffee from a vending machine. His hulking form blocks my view of the nurse’s station, and I squirm uncomfortably as he hands me the coffee. I’m not drinking it. I’m not drinking or eating anything until I know Trixie is okay.
I hold the cup between both shaking hands as I curl around it. His “comfort” is no comfort at all. Everyone is suspect now—the stagehands, the tech crew, even the other actors. Warren included. Who would do this? And who would want to poison me? My fears and apprehensions this whole time may not have been a hundred percent accurate or logical, but they were real. I’m being targeted, and people around me are getting hurt.
“Don’t you want to drink your coffee?” He nudges my elbow, but I don’t move.
“She could die, Warren.” My eyes are fixed on the light blue and cream wall, the two colors divided by a wooden chair rail. Activity continues around me, but I’m a zombie, blankly staring. “It would have been me.”
“It’s not you, girl. You gotta stop doing this to yourself.” He sits back in his seat shaking his head, and his dirty brown hair bobs around. I know he’s not heartless, but any idiot would look at this situation and see what I see. Warren refuses to do so, the way Liam refused for so long. I’m so glad he’s on the way here.
We’ve been sitting here for hours waiting on some sort of word from the doctors. We’re not Trixie’s family or next of kin, so we’ll be the last to know. Unless a parent shows up and can provide it for us. The director may be able to get some updates, but doctors don’t seem to want to share much with us.
Still, I can’t leave. I need to be here. Maybe here is the only place I’m safe too. Maybe if I leave, whoever did this to Trixie—who tried to do it to me—will be successful next time. I shake at the thought and want to call my mother, but I know what she’ll say. And this time, I won’t be able to convince her that I’m fine here. Because I’m not fine. I’m terrified.
The doors to the entrance slide open, and Liam and his friend Slick bound through them. His eyes scan the room, and I’m on my feet, shoving the hot coffee into Warren’s hands as I head toward him. But Warren catches my wrist, and the coffee spills all over the carpet at his feet.
“What the hell? I thought you broke up with him?” The shock and anger in his expression don’t even surprise me. He was all too happy when I told him I thought I was ending things with Liam. After all, he was the one who told me who Liam really is. I bet he thought he was getting his chance to be the next one in line to date me.
“Let go of me,” I snap angrily and wrest my arm away from him.
“Not cool, Elena. You know that man’s a killer. You know he’s the one who did this.” Warren stands and kicks the empty coffee cup across the waiting room, and it lands at Liam’s feet.
I meet Liam’s gaze as I tremble and take a step away from Warren. “I don’t know that, and neither do you.” I rub my wrist as I walk away, moving toward Liam and Slick.
Liam takes me into his arms immediately, holding me tightly as I breathe him in. He feels like home. He feels safe and secure, and like I should never have gotten upset with him or pushed him away. Nothing changed. He’s still the Mob boss’s son, but I need him. He’s the safest thing I’ve encountered since I got here.
And he’s right. He never tried to hurt me or put me in danger. He’s only been good, gracious, and kind. His white lie is still a lie, and we have to deal with that. But if there is anyone in this city I can trust and who I know will help me get answers, it’s him.
“Hey, shh, I’m here,” he soothes, squeezing me against his chest tightly.
“Oh, my God, it could have been me. The chocolates were sent to me. They were in my room. I could’ve eaten them.” I want to cry. I want to shake and hide and curl into a ball in my bed and hide from all of this. But I can’t.
“Well, it wasn’t you. Okay? And we’re going to find out who this is and I’m putting a stop to it.” His strong arms holding me are the magic elixir. I’ve needed this. It’s like the anchor in the storm that makes everything stop spinning.
I pull back far enough to see his face, and he kisses my forehead and then my cheek, and he squeezes tighter. “Baby, my God. I’d never forgive myself if I let anything happen to you. You need to tell me everything.”
So I do. I tell him everything I know about the letters and the cards. How they came in the same pink envelope every time, and how they got more and more menacing as they went. Eventually, he loosens his grasp on me and I see Slick cautiously watching everything we say. Behind him, I see a police officer enter the door to the emergency room and walk toward us. He’s more of a detective or maybe a chief. He’s wearing a suit, but the badge clipped to his belt reveals his authority.
“Uh…” I say, clearing my throat and nodding. Liam turns over his shoulder, and I realize they know each other. He takes my hand and pulls me toward the cop. “Detective Kraus, good to see you. What have you found?”
The detective, an older man with graying hair and a round belly, eyes me and then says, “Mr. Salvatore, I’ve been looking into the things you reported. Is this the actress?” It’s the first time I’ve actually heard someone call Liam by his real last name. It’s uncomfortable and reminds me of how he lied to me, but I can’t let those feelings distract me right now. I have to process what’s actually happening. Too much has happened all at once lately.
“Yeah, Elena Cortez. She’s the one who’s had the letters and gifts.” Liam nods at me, and I feel nervous. The police at the theater asked a few questions when the ambulance picked up Trixie, but they said they’d come to the hospital too. I don’t think this guy is with them. He seems to be hired by Liam privately or something.
I glance over my shoulder where the group seems to be huddling around the director, and I see the doctor coming out of the medical-staff-only doors.
“Ms. Cortez, can I ask you a few questions?” the detective says, but I’m already two steps away. If the doctor has updates, I want to know what they are.
“Can you give me a sec?” I call over my shoulder as I float toward the center of gravity. A desperate need to know what’s going on pulls me away from where I should be into the chaos of emotion surrounding everyone from the theater. I walk up next to Celia, who puts her arm around me and pulls me to her side as the doctor starts talking.
“I know you’re all anxious for information. Thank you for being patient. We have only just now gotten permission from our patient to give you an update. Trixie is going to be okay. She will be admitted to the hospital for a few days to continue clearing her blood of the toxins?—”
“What was it?” I blurt out, not even afraid to interrupt him. Everyone glances at me, and then he replies.
“It was an opioid overdose. Whoever dosed her did it good, too. Fentanyl is dangerous in even low doses when it’s not prescribed for a medical condition. Trixie is very lucky you found her when you did. She could have died. Now, she’s ready for visitors, but only two at a time.”
My heart instantly feels relieved. I’m finally able to let the tears flow freely, and man, do they flow. Celia, Schrader, and Mr. Monroe are there with me, hugging me and telling me how grateful they are that I found her so quickly. I did nothing. I just showed up to work like normal, but I’m glad I found her too. A drug overdose is scary.
“Well, who wants to go back first?” The doctor waits for us, and I raise my hand.
“I want to go first, please. I have to see her to make my brain believe this nightmare is over.” I wipe the tears from my eyes and glance at the director hoping he’ll go with me, but before he can even chime in, Warren is there grabbing my hand.
“I’ll go with her. Trixie and I are close too. We used to date.”
Warren doesn’t even seem concerned. If anything, he seems angry. A storm is brewing in his eyes even though there is a soft smile on his face. I’ve seen it a million times when he takes the stage. He can be in a nasty mood backstage and then walk out to perform and nail the role of the happiest man on Earth. He’s acting, but why does he need to act? Why isn’t he relieved Trixie is going to be okay?
“Uh, okay,” I mumble, feeling myself being ushered away from the safety of my people. The hair on my arms stands on end. I glance over my shoulder at Liam who is engrossed in a conversation with his detective friend and Slick, and I wish he were coming with me, not Warren.
Warren’s hand in the small of my back makes me queasy and nervous. We follow the doctor through the double doors and down a long, wide hallway with a low ceiling and fluorescent lighting. Nurses and doctors scurry around, and I hear a patient moaning in pain. This doesn’t feel like a hospital. This feels like a haunted house of horrors. I find myself wanting to run away.
“She’s just down that hallway in room seven. Go on down.” The doctor points to the right as he turns to the left. He’s not coming with us? We’re going in alone?
My heart is racing now. Something doesn’t feel right. Warren is pushing me harder, faster, making me go at his pace. A knot forms in my stomach and a lump in my throat.
“Maybe we should?—”
“Shh,” he hisses, and his eyes dart around, as if looking for an escape.
“Warren, I don’t like this. I want to go back. I think the director should come back first.” I try to turn and walk back up the hallway, but he wraps a hand around my head so fast I almost get whiplash. His thick fingers cover my mouth, and he pins me against his body with his other hand as he forces me down the hallway. I kick and swing my arms, but he’s twice my strength. What the hell is he doing? Why is he doing this? Oh, my God, Warren is the stalker.
“No! Help!” I scream, but my screams are muffled by his hand on my mouth. He walks toward a closed door with a black plaque labeled “storage” stuck to the door. I try to put my feet on the door frame to keep him from taking me in the room, but he is too strong.
“Stop fighting me, Elena, and this will be so much easier for you.” His thick, grumbling voice makes my skin crawl.
He did it. He really did it. It was him.
Inside the room, he shoves me hard into the back wall where I bump my head. I slam into a shelf of boxes and bottles, and a few things topple to the floor around me as I turn and stare at him in horror. I want to scream, but it’s like my voice is trapped in my throat. I can’t make a sound. I feel like I’m in a nightmare.
This can’t be happening.