Chapter Sixteen Hailey
The night shift is unusually quiet for a Thursday, which should make me grateful but instead puts me on edge. It’s the quiet shifts that often turn chaotic with little to no warning, and over time I’ve learned to appreciate steady workflow over deceptive calm.
I’m updating charts at the nurses’ station when Marco approaches with the expression I’ve come to dread—the one that means trouble is walking through our doors.
“Hailey,” he says quietly, glancing toward the waiting room. “Lars Winters is back.”
My heart sinks into my stomach, and I instantly feel like I’m going to be sick. I had pushed him to the back of my mind, where I wanted him to stay buried. Instead of telling Marco the truth, I say, “But he was just here. What’s his issue this time?”
“Same as always. Back pain, demanding his favorite medications, insisting on seeing you.” Marco’s jaw is tight with frustration. “I’ve already called security to be on standby, but they’re dealing with a psych hold in the west wing.”
I nod, steeling myself. “Which bed?”
“Four. Same as last time.” Marco pauses. “Look, after what happened before—the personal comments about your pet, knowing your schedule—maybe I should assign him to someone else.”
Part of me wants to give in and let someone else handle it. The other part of me is pissed off and tired of feeling on edge. Maybe it wouldn’t be the most horrible thing in the world to look the monster directly in the face. Then at least I’ll know if it’s him or not.
Strong girls don’t get scared. They just get stronger. Alright, Dad—let’s see if we can squeeze a little more juice out of this lemon.
“He’ll just refuse treatment until he gets his way. We both know how this goes. And we’re short-staffed tonight. Passing it off on someone else isn’t necessary when we’ll all end up in his room anyway.” I square my shoulders. “Let’s just get through this quickly and get him out of here.”
As the words come out, I feel an icy chill already settling in. I fucking hate Lars Winters. He’s progressed far beyond the typical drug-seeking behavior I’ve witnessed in other patients. Winters watches me like a predator monitoring its prey.
He makes my fucking skin crawl.
“I’ll be charting at the nurses’ station if you need me. Keep the curtain open, and I’ll keep watch,” Marco says, eyeing me like he’s already regretting this whole situation.
But it’s my turn in the rotation to take the next patient, and none of us wants to be given someone as vile and crude as Lars Winters, so I’ll suck it up and get the job done. Dr. Chen and I can have him out of here in no time, and security will be here shortly.
I approach bed four with trembling fists, but I force myself to keep my expression neutral despite the unease churning in my stomach. Winters is propped up on the exam table, that same wicked smile spreading across his face when he sees me.
I instantly regret agreeing to take him as a patient.
“There’s my favorite doctor,” he says, his throaty voice carrying a familiarity that makes me want to fold in on myself. “I was hoping you’d be here tonight.”
“Mr. Winters,” I reply professionally, maintaining a safe distance from the bed, “I understand you’re experiencing pain again. Can you describe what’s going on?”
“You know exactly what I’m feeling,” he says, his tone shifting slightly as his mask slips. “We’ve been through this before. My back is killing me, and I need something stronger than the useless shit Chen prescribed last time.”
I note his vitals on the chart—blood pressure, heart rate, and respiratory rate are all within normal range. “Can you rate your pain on a scale of one to ten?”
“Ten. No, fifteen. It’s unbearable.” It’s always the same with him, but I listen as he continues. “You’re the only one who understands how much I’m suffering.”
“I’ll need to examine your back and check your range of motion,” I tell him, reaching for the examination supplies.
“Don’t fucking touch me unless you’re giving me what I need,” he snaps, his false charm sliding further. “I’m not going through your little dog and pony show again just so you can deny me proper pain management.”
I take a step back, maintaining eye contact.
“Mr. Winters, I need to conduct an assessment to provide you with appropriate care. If you refuse the examination, I can’t help you.
And I will not tolerate this level of disrespect.
Security can have you out of here in five minutes if that’s what you’d prefer. ”
His expression darkens, and something shifts in his demeanor that sends alarm bells ringing in my head while the hair on the back of my neck sticks straight up. I may have gone too far. “Oh, you can help me, Hailey. You just choose not to. But that’s going to change.”
Hailey. He just used my first name. Only… My first name isn’t on my ID badge. And I’ve never introduced myself to a patient as anything other than Dr. Brigham. The way he says my name, the threat in his tone, makes my pulse quicken. “I’m going to get Dr. Chen to—”
“You’re not going anywhere,” he says, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “Not until we have a real conversation about your attitude problem.”
I glance toward the nurses’ station, hoping to catch Marco’s attention or spot security approaching without making a major scene. My stomach drops when I see Marco’s attention absorbed by a call on the department phone. Security is nowhere in sight.
“Mr. Winters, you need to lower your voice,” I say firmly, though my heart is racing. “Other patients are trying to rest.”
“I don’t give a fuck about other patients,” he hisses. “I care about getting what I came for. And if you don’t start cooperating, maybe I’ll have to find other ways to get your attention.”
The threat sends ice through my veins.
“What does that mean?” I snap, rage beginning to fuel my courage.
His smile returns, cold and depraved. “It means I know more about you than you think, Hailey Brigham. I know where you work, when you work, what you drive. I know about your little dates and your furry friend at home. Got your car buffed out yet?”
My breath catches.
Oh God.
My knees feel weak.
“You live alone in that converted Victorian on Oak Street,” he continues, his voice barely above a whisper but carrying clearly in the curtained space. “You often take the back stairs to avoid your nosy neighbor. And I love that you leave your bedroom window cracked open when you sleep.”
Each word hits me harder than the last. I’m left utterly speechless, frozen in place as the seconds tick by.
“You’re scared now, aren’t you?” His sick satisfaction is obvious. “Good. Maybe now you’ll take my pain seriously and give me what I need instead of treating me like some kind of criminal.”
I’m struggling to maintain professional composure when Marco appears at the entrance to the bay.
“Everything okay here?” he asks, his tone carefully neutral but his posture alert. He’s concerned.
“Just having a conversation with my favorite doctor about pain management,” Winters says, his vulgarity receding behind that fake fucking mask. “Isn’t that right, Dr. Brigham?”
“I was just about to call Dr. Chen for a consultation,” I manage, surprised by how steady my voice sounds despite the overwhelming fear coursing through me.
Marco’s eyes narrow slightly—he knows me well enough to know something is wrong. “Why don’t I walk with you to find her?”
It’s not a suggestion, and I’m grateful for his intervention. As we step away from the bed, Winters calls after us, showing his true form once more. A monster.
“We’ll finish our conversation later, Dr. Brigham. Whether that’s here or somewhere more…private.”
Marco’s hand lands protectively on my shoulder as we walk toward the nurses’ station. “Where the hell is security?” he mutters. “They should have been here ten minutes ago.”
“Marco,” I say quietly when we’re far enough away, “he knows where I live. Specific details about my apartment, my life. He’s been watching me outside the hospital.
He left a note on my car and then keyed ‘bitch’ into the side of it a few days later.
I mean, he tried to. He spelled it wrong, but that feels really beside the point right now.
” I’m babbling but can’t stop, adrenaline spiking through my body and making my fingers tingle.
Marco stops walking, his expression darkening. “What? Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“I called the police, but they said there wasn’t really anything they could do. I didn’t want to make it a big deal if it wasn’t.” My voice is shakier now that we’re away from Winters. Tears well in my bottom waterline. “He just described my bedroom window. I… I’m so scared.”
“Fuck,” Marco says under his breath. He pulls out his phone, dialing security with more urgency. “Code Orange to the ER, bed four. Priority response needed immediately.”
Dr. Chen appears from another patient bay, drawn by the tension in Marco’s voice. “What’s wrong?”
“Lars Winters has been stalking Hailey.” Marco quickly explains everything I just told him.
Dr. Chen’s expression hardens. “Where is security?”
“Finally on their way,” Marco says, hanging up his phone. “But this has gone too far.”
Security arrives within sixty seconds—Frank and two officers I don’t recognize, all looking prepared for trouble. Marco briefs them quickly while Dr. Chen and I observe from a distance. I can feel my body shaking from the adrenaline.
“Mr. Winters,” Frank’s voice carries clearly across the department, “you need to come with us.”
“I haven’t done anything wrong,” Winters protests, but his earlier menace has been replaced by whining. “I’m a patient seeking medical treatment.”
“You can seek treatment elsewhere,” Frank replies firmly. “You’re being discharged and banned from this facility.”
The escort process takes another twenty minutes—Winters alternating between false compliance and extreme outbursts, security struggling to remain professional while ensuring he leaves the premises. Throughout, he watches me, his expression a clear promise that this isn’t over.