Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Kira
Iknow instantly that I’m in a hospital. The scratchy gown and bright lights are annoyingly present.
My body feels heavy, like someone has strapped bricks to my limbs, and my head is throbbing.
But it’s nothing I can’t handle. I peel my eyes open against the brightness as best I can.
My fingers fumble blindly around the edge of the bed until I find the button I’m looking for—the one that alerts someone I’m awake.
Because I lived.
Which is… great.
I think.
But now I need to get out of here.
Surviving just means I’m conscious enough to deal with the disaster waiting at home.
How long have I been out? An hour? A day?
A week? Oh, God. The body is probably already decomposing.
The smell. Nix. She’s alone with a body.
I hold the call button down until my knuckle turns white and force myself to sit up.
Pain spears my chest, sharp and insistent, but I grit my teeth and ride it.
I’ve pushed through worse with less reason.
“Whoa there, take it easy,” a plump nurse says as she bustles in, adjusting the rails like she expects me to fall. “Do you know where you are?”
“Yes,” I croak, my voice dry and raw. “Can you, uh…” I tug at the IV in my arm. “Can you take this out? I need to go.”
“Oh, no, dear. You won’t be going anywhere,” she speaks to me like I’m a child.
But I haven’t been a child for a very long time, and her tone grates on my nerves.
“Like fuck,” I scoff.
Her eyes go wide, jaw falling a bit, and a twinge of guilt hits me. She didn’t deserve that. She’s just trying to do her job. I get it. I really do. How many times have I been cussed out because I had to cut someone off at the bar? But this isn’t just another round. I have shit to handle.
“Sorry.” I try to rein in my impatience. “Can you just take this out, please?”
She purses her lips, clearly unforgiving. “I’ll get the doctor.” Her tone is clipped now, and she roughly locks the guard rail back into place.
I groan as she turns her back on me. I’m really not trying to ruin this woman’s day, but I have a sister who needs me.
Once the door shuts, I try and fail to lower the rail myself, becoming winded almost instantly. A weakness I’ve never felt is heavy through my body, and I involuntarily slump back against the pillow, humiliated and furious.
This is bad.
This is worse than I thought.
Desperate tears begin to pool in my eyes. How am I going to do anything in this state, let alone move a body? And where do I move it to? My mind spins with options, and the machine that’s attached to me starts to beep a bit faster.
We don’t even own a shovel, do we? Am I supposed to buy one? How much do they cost? That’s going to cut into this week’s groceries. Nix better not even try to complain. This isn’t her fault, but God if I wish things didn’t play out differently.
The doctor comes in quicker than expected, and I realize it’s probably because the nurse warned I’m a flight risk. He’s older than God, with frail shoulders under his white coat and heavy bags under his eyes. He’s most likely who they allocate to the welfare patients.
I don’t bother with any niceties.
“How long have I been here?” I ask, forcing myself to sit up again.
“Kira Noland?” he flips through a chart with painful slowness. “You came in early this morning at four a.m., and it is now,” he checks his watch, “seven p.m.”
My chest tightens. That’s over twelve hours.
Twelve hours of Nix sitting with a corpse, or panicking, or doing God knows what.
Fuck. I wish I had thought to grab my phone before the ambulance came.
Did Nix actually go inside, or did the cops force their way in?
I would assume everything is fine, or I would be cuffed to the rails right now, wouldn’t I?
“Can you unhook me, please? I need to leave.” I start tugging at the rails again.
“Ms. Noland, are you aware of why you are in the hospital?” the doctor asks from the center of the room, making no effort to stop me.
“Yeah,” I huff. “I had a heart attack.” I give him a quick look as I continue rattling my cage.
He places the clipboard under his arm, brows lifting subtly. “To be more precise, you had a spontaneous coronary artery dissection,” he says. “It is a tear in your artery, possibly brought on by your birth control or stress. Have you been under significant stress lately?”
I let out a bitter laugh. “That a real question?” I shake my head. “Can you undo this?! I think it’s stuck.”
He seems unfazed. “I cannot, in good conscience, release you, Ms. Noland.”
“Well, it’s not on you, pal. So, if you could just—”
“The tear needs to heal,” he cuts me off.
“And we need to monitor you. A few days, and then if all looks well, you can go home. But you will have to take it easy. I know you are young, and you think you are invincible, but this is quite serious. You will have to follow up with a private cardiologist. We have you started on a statin and beta blocker, which—”
The rail finally gives, sliding down with a clatter.
“Just send it to a pharmacy,” I say. “I’ll pick it up.”
“Ms. Noland, I really do not think you understand…”
“Look, man,” I swing my legs over the side of the bed, “I get it. I’m fucked. But I’m leaving. Consider your conscience clear. I’m signing myself out. But if you could get this thing out of my arm, that would be great.”
In one painful sweep, I manage to gather all the wires from my chest and yank them off. “Where are my clothes?”
He sighs, and it’s the sigh of a man who doesn’t have any more patience or energy. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “I hope whatever is so urgent is worth your life, young lady.”
Worth my life?
My sister rotting in prison for the rest of hers?
Yeah, that’s worth my fucking life.