Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
HER
The halls were quieter than I remembered them being. I know what you’re thinking. Quiet was good, right?
Not on the psych ward it wasn’t. No, it wasn’t good at all. It was suspicious. Spine-chilling. Or maybe I was just projecting. Since nothing was more suspicious than the way I was sneaking through the pharmacy door and flicking on the light.
It wasn’t locked, which was odd too. Though I’d been warned that if you didn’t yank it closed hard enough, the lock wouldn’t catch like it should.
It was a problem no one seemed too keen on fixing, and I wasn’t here to stir the pot, just shove some narcotics and as many benzos as I could grab into my pockets. Antibiotics too.
I wasn’t sure how necessary the clozapine was, but I wasn’t going to argue with Cain. A quick withdrawal would have him feeling worse, believing he needed it, when really his body had grown dependent on it—whether or not it should have been prescribed.
Truth was, it was probably meant to subdue him and his system had just adjusted to the dosage.
He was a big guy, and big guys needed more than what he was getting…
if he needed them at all. I wasn’t a doctor.
I just cleaned up after them. Spotted their mistakes and brought them up as delicately as possible without ruffling anyone’s feathers.
I scanned the shelves until I found what I was looking for. These 25mg tabs would have Cain feeling “normal,” while a slight titration would leave him sedated, especially when mixed with the benzos he was swallowing like candy.
It wasn’t just bad practice to have all the bottles out in the open like this.
Most hospitals had some sort of automated dispensing system by now.
Type in the patient’s name or chart number and document and assign the correct medication.
No manual counting, less of a chance of someone disguising theft as “human error…”
I shook my head. It wasn’t the time to shift into nurse mode, even if it was my default setting in this uniform.
I glanced down at my light-blue scrubs. The color was supposed to be calming for the patients.
Instead, it felt like waving a red flag in front of a bull.
It didn’t matter what you wore when you were shoving pills down someone’s throat.
Nothing was going to make them feel better about what you were doing, even if you were honestly trying to help them. And I did want to help them.
I also wanted to help him. I didn’t know why. Or maybe I did and didn’t want to admit it. Probably that.
None of it changed the fact that I wanted to help Cain. Worse was the guilt weighing down my shoulders as I stepped out of the pharmacy and back into the hall.
My motives were selfish. Because I wanted him to help me too.
It was why I was risking everything coming back here after calling out for the week.
I said I had the flu. Couldn’t bring that onto the unit or it would spread like wildfire.
And the only thing us nurses wanted to deal with less than an unmedicated patient was an unmedicated patient aspirating on the prescriptions we were trying to feed them.
It was a step up from bedbugs or a lice outbreak but not by much.
I tugged on the door until it clicked closed behind me, grateful that my keycard wasn’t the last one to swipe inside, before glancing to my left and then my right. Nothing but silence and emptiness staring back at me.
A few lights flickered overhead in that eerie way they always did. Old wiring and old walls. Unless you believed the rumors about the place being haunted. I didn’t. More because I didn’t want to believe them. I had no desire to be proven wrong, though.
I made it to the main reception area before the freight elevator caught my eye.
I had to admit I was curious. Not curious enough to go down there but curious enough to pause in my steps.
There was no one behind the counter and no one manning the security desk.
Which again was as lucky as it was not all that unusual, depending on who was on shift.
I might not have been employed here long, or much longer if someone caught me walking out the front door with a uniform full of stolen medications.
But I’d already picked up on the fact that hospital protocol was much more theory than practice at Briarwood Sanitorium.
Never leave the pharmacy unlocked, unless you forget to pull it closed. Then pray no one rats you out.
Never leave the registration counter unsupervised, unless you need a cigarette break. Or to run out for lunch. Or because Hare called you into his office. Or because we’re understaffed. Then don’t you dare bring it up.
Always change linens in pairs, unless you’re a male orderly. Then by all means, creep into female patients’ rooms whenever you like.
There was that chill again. The one crawling down my spine, especially when my eyes caught on the elevator for a second time. Each of the numbers on top lighting up one by one as the cable car slowly made its way from the basement to the lobby.
I gasped without meaning to, tucked my hands into my pockets to ensure I still had everything I came for, and then rushed out the employee entrance, to where I’d left my car idling in the parking lot.
There were cameras everywhere, meaning there was no guarantee I’d gotten away with anything. But they were rarely pointing where they were supposed to be pointing. Not that I was all that worried about losing my license with everything else Cain said was going on behind the scenes.
Was it dumb to believe an escaped psych patient pretending to be a doctor so he could climb in through my window (or how ever he got in) to murder me?
Maybe. Probably. But it felt worse not to believe him.
He had no reason to lie to me when he was being so honest about everything else. I’d take an honest asshole over a charming snake any day of the week. Sure, both could sneak up on you, but at least one of them had the decency to warn you they were coming.