33. Chapter 33
Chapter thirty-three
‘Lias
I'm adding doctor offices to my shit list, right beside hospitals. What's the point of setting appointments if you rot in the waiting room for another thirty minutes? Just for the pencil-pusher to finally walk out, call you back, and start the damn thing.
Elias, sometimes appointments run over for various reasons. Be patient.
No. You're allotted a certain amount of time, stick to it.
It puts everyone else behind and is inconsiderate all together.
While I understand Kensington can't control every variable, Sadie just got out of the hospital a few days ago and is still in crisis.
She's more important than 'I never got to say goodbye to my goldfish when I was four because Daddy flushed it down the toilet. '
Get over it.
Sadie's tucked under my left arm, hiding beneath the hood of her sweatshirt as tremors crawl through her muscles and vibrate against me.
She hasn't said a fucking thing in days.
I'm terrified she's locked herself behind an impenetrable wall—out of protection, preservation, whichever.
Taking too long to reach her may be far worse than speeding up someone else's appointment process.
Me? I'm glad you asked.
Once calm, collected, and understanding? Heh, right. My anxiety is in the stratosphere, aiming for the rest of outer space. If my right leg bounces harder, Sadie might suffer from some other cognitive damage like...hell, I don't know...shaken baby syndrome?
Information flashes on a TV screen hung across the room. Generic shit, really. Medication peddling, 'talk to your provider' prompts, and a series of questions patients can ask themselves to prepare for their appointment—in two years, because this asshole takes so long.
A door swings open to the left of the receptionist, and a woman comes hauling ass out of it like someone is after her with a pitchfork.
Sadie doesn't stir, but I still watch. She's somewhere in her mid-thirties, washed-out hair with faint silver strands hiding among the others, with tissues in her hand and a wiped-red nose.
I take that back, not a goldfish.
Without so much of a backward glance, she's through the main door, letting slam with its broken closer arm.
The shrink should really get that fixed.
"Sadie, Mr. Kensington will see you now," Joanna, his receptionist, speaks. She doesn’t bother to look away from her Sudoku and assortment of gel pens.
Bet it's nice to get paid for holding down a chair.
I'm tempted to text Mav and see if he can make the same sort of arrangement for me.
I'd love to sit around and ignore the people who keep me in business.
Stowing my annoyance, I nudge Sadie the slightest bit then hook a finger into her hood, where I make out one of her exhausted eyes.
"Come on, Sunshine. It's your turn."
She sighs, which I feel more than hear. On my feet, I take her arm to help steady her when she stands. There's a moment of hesitation, which tells me more than she has in days. Seeing her in pain has me raw on the inside. I can't do a damn thing to ease her discomfort, so I suffer along with her.
I hook a knuckle under her chin and tilt until I see faint color in her cheeks and the still-dry skin of her chapped lips.
"I know you don't wanna go in there, but I'll be with you the whole time. In and out. We don't have to stay long either, alright?"
At her nod, we move. Out of the waiting room, through the door and down the hall, then we step into the office before my hands ever leave her. Inside, I guide her onto the sofa and take the seat next to her as surprise blisters across her shrink’s face.
"Hello, Mr…?" he asks with underlying confusion.
"Sullivan." Straight to the point.
"Mr. Sullivan. I apologize. I'm used to meeting with Miss Wilson alone. May I ask why you’re accompanying her?"
"Support. Also—" I lean to the left to dig out the copy of the power of attorney. "I can get you an official copy later. For now, this will have to do."
"I...interesting."
He holds two corners while he reads, as if the paper is covered in biohazard material. I watch his eyes move left to right with each line of text he consumes.
"Interesting," he repeats himself.
A moment later, he lays it on the table, crosses his right ankle over his knee, and jots something on his notepad which reminds me too much of the hospital. And they say no two shrinks think alike.
"Before we begin, I need you to understand that there’s a limitation regarding a power of attorney. Records prior to the date of this document do not warrant release or discussion. Meaning—"
I cut him off. "I'm not privy to confidential information unless it’s mentioned herein or after supplying you with the appropriate documentation. I'm aware."
"Correct. Since she’s in crisis, Miss Wilson’s likely unable to consent to sharing her confidential records. If she revokes your presence today, or in the future, you will be required to leave before I continue speaking with her. Do you understand?"
Sadie won't revoke it; not now, anyway. Before, when she was stronger, she wouldn't allow me into the building let alone an appointment. There's something about this whole arrangement that I'm uncomfortable with; call it soldier's intuition if you want, but I don't like him.
"Noted." My teeth grit.
"Very well. Let's begin."
Sadie's still silent at my side, only her soft breaths tell me she hasn't fallen asleep while I spoke to Kensington.
Something she's been doing a lot lately.
I'll get her moved from the bed to the couch, long enough for the sun to stretch across her legs, and within a few minutes she's out again.
It's more of the same between meals, even when I brought her home and gave her another bath. Like taking care of a doll.
"Sadie, we received your medical records from the hospital. Looks like you completed a seventy-two hour hold after what’s noted as an attempt to harm yourself or take your life. Is that correct?"
I've walked deserts wetter than him.
Stubborn girl doesn't reply, not shocked there. He taps his pen insistently on his notepad as he waits. From the looks of it, this is a normal occurrence for their little rendezvous. Guess it's my turn.
"That's correct. She hasn't disclosed if it was an attempt or not, nor was she very cooperative with the evaluations."
"I see. That was noted in the records. Seems she was forthcoming then stopped participating in her care."
He flipped through notes before continuing.
"Says here she responded favorably to administered medication. Even with the selective silence and declining appetite, they thought she was stable enough to be released with a caretaker. Safe to assume that's you?"
"You assume correct."
"And how has she been at home?"
Sadie shifts next to me. I give her a moment to still before I slip my arm over her shoulders and pull her into my side. He observes us closely, but I don't pay his curiosity any mind.
"Sleeps. Doesn't engage in conversation or decision making."
"So, she's withdrawn."
"If that's the word, then yeah."
"Have you maintained the medication regimen prescribed by the hospital psychologist or reverted back to the one Miss Wilson and I established?"
"The hospital regimen."
"Good, good. From what the notes say, her history paired with the failure to establish an adequate dose, I believe she would benefit more from a twenty-four-hour facility rather than being at home. There's one south of here, I can—" He grabs a tablet to bring up unnecessary information.
"Absolutely fucking not."
"Mr. Sullivan, it is my—" He bristles when I cut him off again.
"I don't peg you for an ignorant man, Mr. Kensington. Let's not pretend you didn't just hear me say no."
The asswipe turns red from his neck to his framed hairline. If this is how he acts with people who have a stronger spine than he has, it's no wonder Sadie has done nothing but deteriorate since she became his patient.
I knew she didn't like him, for whatever reason, but now I don't either.
Not when my girl has become more and more fucked up in the past few months, or when we were sitting in his lobby waiting well past her appointment time, and now?
My gut tells me my newfound dislike for a stranger is well deserved and directed appropriately.
A chainsaw couldn't cut the tension in the room.
No skin off my back, really, I'm used to uncomfortable situations.
The same can't be said for him, with the way he fidgets on his side of a glass coffee table decorated with a box of tissues, unused drink coasters, and a stack of pharmaceutical magazines.
Ten bucks says he would break in less than five minutes if I ever got him in a chair or strapped to the slab back in Oregon.
"Very well." The silence ultimately breaks. "I suggest we increase her dosage for the time being. We can taper her to a lower dose once she mends from the injuries and we're able to come to some sort of compromise on her continuation of care."
"Are you suggesting she remains over sedated and dependent? How is that improving her quality of life?"
"She has to have a life to begin with, Mr. Sullivan. If she takes hers, then there's nothing to improve."
I clench my teeth so hard at the idea, my teeth threaten to crack under the pressure. While his words hold merit, they're brutal and efficient in delivering mass devastation.
"Fair," I bite, then look down at the woman cuddled against my side. She hasn't looked at him since we sat down. As far as she’s concerned, she doesn't exist in this room and I'm unsure if it's because of her medication or him.
"What sort of increase are we talking about, and what happens if it doesn't work?"
"Glad to hear you're going to err on the side of caution, Mr. Sullivan," the fucker says with a smug lit to his voice.
"Let's start by decreasing her Suvorexant, then increase her Risperdal and Lithium.
Both will need to be processed by insurance which may take up to a week.
I have emergency doses here to keep her stable until the new prescription can be filled. "
Vacating his chair, he crosses over to a bookshelf behind his desk and keys open a locked set of cabinet doors.
I lean to the side to see what he's after.
Bottle after bottle of pills line the shelves inside.
Some in traditional orange containers, others are larger mass quantities.
He fetches two and closes the doors, securing them then slides the key into the front of his slacks.
"This bottle," he holds up the smaller of the two, "is Lithium. Have her take it twice a day. The other is Risperdal, once a day. No more, no less."
Our time must be up, as he doesn't bother returning to his seat. Instead, he grabs his prescription pad and writes out the new order for Sadie, leaving it next to the plain bottles.
"Whatever the hospital has her on, throw it out. You can dispose of unused medication at the pharmacy. They may even give you a discount for turning over her unused pills."
Off of the sofa, I haul Sadie up with me.
Holding onto her bicep, I snatch up her new pills and the prescription without another word.
She's on enough pills but what more can I do right now?
The choices are to let her rot in a facility with strangers when I know how volatile she is, or take her home.
She’s not going anywhere without me—she’s mine.
Ticked off, I lead her out without looking back. All she seems to find are people who want to throw pills at her and mute who she is.
Where’s the girl who would spar me in the gym late at night? Because this woman is nowhere close to the one who wrapped me around every one of her delicate fingers.
Hot water burns down my back and over my shoulders as I loom under the shower head and its rain-like pour.
I stand in silent punishment with my head tilted forward while the scorch abuses my skin and nerves.
There are scars peppered across my body from knives, shrapnel, and bullets that managed to get too close.
There were moments in time where I threw dirt into the wounds, grabbed my rifle, and carried on with the mission.
I put my body through more hell than the average person can withstand.
Broken bones, jammed joints, dislocated shoulders.
The list goes on. Not a single one of them compares to how exposed I feel with Sadie.
Holding on feels like I'm being squeezed by an iron maiden. Every direction I turn, pain erupts. For her, I'll face torture with my chin held high as long as she never has to again.
Droplets from my water-sodden hair trickle down then roll into my eyes, rinsing away the briny buildup from an earlier breakdown. Now I’m partially sheltered, having gone numb to a few things around me while the rest prepares for Sadie's road to redemption.
The bathroom’s humid when I finally step out, with damp surfaces and slippery condensation.
Out of the shower, I wrap a towel around my hips, tucking the end to keep it from falling as I step out of the bathroom.
Cooler air hits me when the door swings open, sending chills ricocheting through me.
My hairs stand on end, goosebumps trail behind, but that’s not what makes me stop in my tracks.
It’s her, Sadie, standing there while a cloud of steam follows me beyond the threshold.
"Hey, Sunshine, everything alright?"
She shakes her head. The short strands I already miss sway gently with the movement. Like Icarus, I fly so close to my sun I don't feel the burn until it's too late.
Cradling her face, twin thumbs brush over her cheeks and tilt her head back. I keep her stead as I dip in and kiss her ever so gently. I’ll never stop treating her this way. I’ll never make her think she’s unlovable.
White hot agony slashes through my abdomen, jerking me away from her lips. Seconds tick as my wild eyes finally rips away from her emotionless face to see where pain has exploded deep in my flesh.
She's death-gripping a knife. Before words ever find their way, she pulls back and plunges the blade again.