Chapter 52 THEO
THEO
I’m vaguely aware of sound and light for a long time before I can open my eyes. Everything seems blurry, out of focus and wrong, and it takes me a minute to process that I’m in a hospital bed on an IV drip and surrounded by machines.
I’m barely awake, and half formed thoughts pass through my mind like water through a sieve, with one glaring exception.
Alex.
I’m in so much pain that I can’t get up, and I try to yell but my voice is too weak.
I look around to find the button to call the nurse, pushing it repeatedly with the edge of my hand because my fingers are stiff and in pain under all the bandages.
After what feels like an eternity, a tall nurse hurries into the room and starts checking my vitals.
“Is she alive?” My voice is rough and quiet, and I start to panic when he doesn’t respond immediately. “Tell me she’s alive, please,” I rasp out. The nurse gives me a terse look and nods once, and I pass out again.
***
Danny shot me just below my left collarbone, grazed my left side deeply with the other bullet, broke my nose and three of my ribs, and the bone from his face sliced into my hand deep enough to tear through most of the tendons.
On top of all that, he did a great job at beating the absolute shit out of me.
I didn’t feel any of it at the time, but I can feel it all now.
It fucking sucks.
I’ve been asking to see Alex for days, but the nurses keep telling me I have to rest. I don’t listen to them.
Sitting up alone is a struggle, and I’m so dizzy and tired from the effort that I fall over, and I get chastised by the nurses that rush in.
They tell me that I have to stay in bed, and I tell them I have to see Alex.
When I try again a few hours later, I make it to the hallway before one of the nurses sees me. She takes pity on me, or on herself, and puts me in a wheelchair and takes me to the critical care ward to see Alex.
She’s covered in bruises and bandages, hooked up to IVs and heart monitors, lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, her eyes unfocused and glassy. She doesn’t look at me, and I start to panic.
“Sweetheart?” She doesn’t respond, and she doesn’t react at all when I reach out to take her hand.
Her heart rate doesn’t even change.
I try not to panic, keeping my finger pressed against the pulse point in her wrist and watching her vitals as I interrogate the nurse.
She tells me Alex is like this with everyone, that she mostly sleeps or stares at the ceiling.
They did an MRI that showed her brain function is completely normal, but she’s not there.
I know how Alex gets when she’s stressed, and it’s just a matter of time and her feeling safe. I explain that, but the nurse doesn’t seem to listen to me and wheels me out of her room shortly after.
The hospital won’t let me stay in her room and they won’t give us a room together, no matter how much I beg, or offer to pay, or threaten to sue.
I wasn’t even supposed to be allowed to see her, apparently.
***
Two police officers show up to ask questions, an older balding man and a younger blonde woman who looks at me sharply. I’m so miserable from being separated from Alex and so loopy from the painkillers that I stupidly start to answer their questions.
“Your girlfriend’s in a bad way. Did you do that to her?” I level the blonde with a look of pure disgust.
“Her piece of shit pig husband did that to her,” I say slowly, and her face hardens.
“Detective Daniel Murphy was found brutally murdered yesterday by the property manager of the rental he was staying in. Did you do that to him?”
I look up at the ceiling for a minute, realizing just how much shit I’m in. I’m probably going back to prison, and I don’t think I’m ever going to see Alex again, because I think she might have seen what I did to Danny.
Still, I want a chance.
“I need to call my lawyer.” The balding detective frowns.
“Mr. Anderson, we’re just wondering -”
“Nice try. Fuck off.”
***
Catherine comes to the hospital, showing up after she visits Alex. She tells me Alex is the same as when I saw her yesterday, and I quietly tell Catherine that I need an excellent criminal defense attorney as soon as possible.
A few hours later, Elise Hughes arrives from Portland, tall and well dressed and extremely displeased that I spoke to the police.
I give her as much information about Alex’s past with Danny as I can quickly, I tell her how Danny found Alex, I tell her the truth about how I found Alex, and I tell her what happened in the cabin.
I do not talk about Alex and my relationship, aside from the fact that we’ve been together for the last six months.
The police and the hospital decide to keep Alex and I separated, so on top of not seeing her, no one at the hospital is even allowed to tell me how she is.
My nurses get very tired of me asking, very quickly.
I’m losing my mind being separated from her and not being able to take care of her, and the doctors have to put me on sedatives just to manage me.
Officer Dent comes down and lets me know that I’m going to be detained on murder charges once the doctors clear me for release. He tells me if I’m acquitted, there will be a parole revocation hearing. Either way, the chances I go back to prison are incredibly high.
Dr. Mills comes down, and I’m so upset and on so much medication that I openly talk to her about my feelings for the first time.
I don’t tell her how I found Alex or what happened to Danny, but I tell her about my feelings when I saw Alex on the bed.
I talk about thinking she was dead, about what happened to her, about how badly I failed her, and I’m a fucking mess by the end of it.
To her credit, Dr. Mills mostly just listens.
She tells me I did something remarkable in saving Alex, and that I didn’t fail her at all, so she’s still a fucking idiot.
She’s also an asshole, because at her request, the hospital sends in a psychiatrist.
I do my best to lie to them, and I get out of taking everything but anxiety meds and antidepressants, but those still fucking suck.
***
After a few days in the hospital, Bailey walks into my room, looking me over with wide eyes. I sit up as quickly as I can, wincing in pain, and Bailey and I speak at the same time, our voices overlapping.
“Theo, what happened?”
“How is she?”
“Why is there a police officer outside your door?”
“How’s Alex?” Bailey’s face falls as she pulls up a chair near my bed.
“She’s not talking, but the nurses told me to expect that,” Bailey says, her voice heavy.
“She looked at me, though, and nodded and shook her head when I spoke to her.” A wash of relief rolls through me, followed by the sharp, overwhelming longing to see her.
“Haven’t you seen her?” I shake my head in frustration.
“They won’t let me,” I mutter, and Bailey’s eyes narrow.
“Why not?” Her voice is hard and flinty, and we stare at each other for a long minute. “Theo, what did you do?” I eye the open door and the officer standing at the doorway in a silent question, and Bailey scrunches her nose and shakes her head.
“When I found them,” I whisper, “I thought she was dead.” Bailey looks pained for a second before her eyes widen in understanding and her expression slowly drops into horror.
“I need you to take care of Alex,” I say quietly.
“I’ll give you whatever you want. I’ll pay for Miles to go to college, I’ll buy you another house, whatever.
Alex is going to try to ignore it, she won’t eat and she’s going to drink, and I need you to keep an eye on her and make sure she gets better. ” Bailey nods slowly.
“You don’t need to worry. Catherine, Suzie, and I are already figuring out what we need to do to help her, and Dylan and I cleaned out the guest bedroom in case she needs to stay with us.” I close my eyes and lay back against the pillows, exhaling sharply.
“Thank you.” Bailey stands to leave, pausing and looking at me with a conflicted expression before resting her hand on my uninjured shoulder, squeezing tightly.
“Thank you,” she says, and she gives me a small smile before she leaves.
***
Catherine and Suzie visit and tell me Alex still isn’t talking, but that she’s engaging slightly more, humming in response instead of just nodding and shaking her head.
Bailey visits again with some containers of food, and I notice with relief that one of them is half-eaten.
Anna and Jessica drop in quickly to tell me that Alex still isn’t talking, but they got her to eat an entire plate of food for the first time in a month.
Elise comes the day before I’m released, but before I can even open my mouth, she smiles at me.
“She finally spoke to someone yesterday,” she says cheerfully, and my heart soars.
Once Elise leaves, I frantically ask the nurse if I can please see Alex, please speak to Alex, if I can call her or pass on a note to her or anything, but the answer is always no.
***
I’m released into the jail’s custody and the arraignment is set a month out. I call the hospital every day, which is the only thing I can do besides take pain medication and rest. I still haven’t spoken to Alex, and I’m getting desperate.
In the hospital, we were forcibly separated, and she wasn’t even speaking. Now, I’m almost positive that Alex isn’t speaking to me on purpose.
She must have seen me kill Danny.
I did it because I love her, and I don’t want her to be afraid of me and leave me because of it.
Every conversation with Elise starts with me asking how Alex is and what the nurses and doctors have said.
Alex is getting better, sort of, but she’s not doing well.
She’s engaging with the hospital staff more, but she still barely speaks, and she doesn’t say much when she does.
One of the nurses caught Alex crying in the middle of the night, but she shut down entirely when she realized the nurse was in the room.
After I’ve been in jail for two weeks, Elise comes in for a meeting more tense than I’ve ever seen her, and I’m immediately concerned.
“What’s wrong? How’s Alex?” She raises her eyebrows at her bag as she pulls out her laptop.
“She was having a tough day. Listen, Theo, you need to stop calling the hospital.” I straighten up quickly, studying Elise’s face.
“You talked to her? Did she say anything to you? Why was she having a bad day? Is she okay? Is she going home soon? Did she ask about me?” Elise levels me with a hard look, and I go cold.
“I went to talk to her, I told her who I was, and she gave me this to give to you.” Elise pulls a small slip of paper out of her pants pocket and hands it over. There, in a shaky, faint version of Alex’s bubbly handwriting, is my fucking death sentence:
they found the tracker
“The doctors found it during an MRI after they stabilized her. She’s known about it since she woke up,” Elise says quietly. Something inside of me breaks completely as I stare at the note.
Alex isn’t afraid of me.
She fucking hates me.
“Leave,” I choke out as a black hole forms inside of me, every ounce of energy sucked out of my body. I return to my cell in a daze. I don’t eat or sleep, and time starts speeding up and slowing down at random until I lose track of the days.
I’ve felt like this before, when Melissa left or when I lost Ashley, and even a little bit when I killed Jason. Still, in comparison, none of those things even bothered me. Nothing has ever felt this bad.
If I had the energy to kill myself right now, I would.
I’ll do it later. I have nothing but time now.
Dr. Mills visits twice a week for therapy, but I don’t see the point.
She reminds me that seeing her is part of my parole, and since I’m still technically on parole, I’m required to sit in a room with her for an hour twice a week.
She tries to speak to me, but I stare at the clock, not really seeing or hearing her.
She has me put on suicide watch, which is fair.
***
Time without Alex blurs and stretches oddly. The arraignment happens, but I barely notice. I show up at the courthouse, Elise enters a plea of not guilty by reason of self-defense, bail is denied, and I go back to jail.
I know that Alex will be fine eventually, but without her, I don’t care what happens to me anymore.
Elise visits to talk about next steps, to discuss offers for plea deals and talk about the vague possibility of trial, but I don’t care. My only request is to get out as soon as possible so that I can kill myself in Yachats, where I got to make Alex happy for one weekend.
A week after the arraignment, Elise tells me we have a potential plea deal, but it would mean ten more years in prison.
Ten years is a long fucking time, but Alex should have the option to talk to me before I kill myself.
I know I’ll probably never see her again, but she’d know where to find me if she wanted to talk to me.
Ten years is long enough that she might even want to.
I tell Elise I’ll think about it.