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It’s the first night I stay, but it’s far from the last.
Chapter Four
Rue
“Hey.”
I look up and smile at the sound of Nathan’s voice. He grins back at me as he walks into the room. He’s wearing black jeans, a white T-shirt, and a black baseball cap today, looking carefree for once and not like the frustrated cop looking for answers.
It’s been a week from hell, but Nathan has been my one constant.
“You ready to blow this popsicle stand?”
I give him a nod and swing my legs over the edge of the bed, feeling my palms start to sweat.
“Has the doctor been around to discharge you?”
“Yeah, she came by this morning. She gave me a list of things to look out for and wants to see me back in two weeks for a follow-up checkup.”
“Did she say anything about getting your memories back?”
I shake my head. “Not really. She doesn’t see any reason why I won’t get them back; she just can’t give me a time frame. The drug—whatever the fuck it’s called—was made to make people forget. But it’s only supposed to be temporary, according to the doctor. I’m not really sure what the point of that is, but hey, what do I know?”
“It was originally created to help people with extreme forms of PTSD. It’s supposed to isolate and suppress certain memories that act as triggers until they’ve had enough therapy to have coping mechanisms in place, thus reducing depression and anxiety attacks as well as volatile outbursts and suicide. However, what people ended up with was temporary paralysis and amnesia. In extreme cases, patients became catatonic.”
“You know a lot about this,” I say as he helps me off the bed.
“I’ve made it my mission to find out everything about it. Unfortunately, the clinical trials are sealed, so I don’t know much more.” He shakes his head.
“An old buddy of mine has heard rumors that the governments are interested in using it on combative prisoners and POW’s, but that’s just hearsay right now.” He looks wary though, like he thinks his old buddy might know more than he’s letting on.
I bite my lip and look away, not wanting him to see how worried I am. It’s one thing to be drugged, but to be drugged with something that nobody seems to know much about is terrifying. I’ll spend the rest of my life worrying about side effects. I mean, it’s only my memory right now, but what if later on, we realize that it’s affected my fertility or made me more susceptible to cancer? It feels like there is no end to this misery.
“Come on, let’s get you out of here. The change of scenery will do you good.” He takes my hand and leads me to the door.
I pause for a second, turning to look at the room that’s been my home for the last week, and feel my stomach cramp withnerves. In here, I’m in a bubble. It’s safe. People know who I am and what happened to me, but for the most part, they’ve been respectful.
Out there, I’m fair game. Once people find out who I am, they’ll want to know what makes me special when the answer is nothing. The killer probably got interrupted before he could finish me off, and that’s the only reason I’m still alive.
Nathan tugs me out the door, where a nurse is waiting for me with a wheelchair.
“Ah, your chariot awaits.” Nathan winks at me, making the nurse swoon a little.
I huff. “I can walk.”
“I know, but it’s hospital policy.” She leans in. “Dr. Nelson told me to tell you to leave out the fire exit. The front of the building is crawling with reporters. News has broken about who you are, I’m afraid.”
Nathan curses. “Someone from the hospital must have leaked it to the press.”
“It was bound to happen,” I whisper, wishing I was back in that room now.
“I know, but there was a reason we wanted it kept quiet.” He curses in frustration.
“It doesn’t matter. Let’s just get out of here.”
I move toward the wheelchair while the nurse holds it steady and waits for me to be seated before she starts pushing me. Nathan walks beside me, making idle chitchat with the nurse while I try to calm my racing heart. She leaves us at the fire exit and wishes me luck.
Nathan squats in front of me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear before taking the cap from his head and placing it on mine. Hooked into the front of his white T-shirt are a pair of mirrored aviators, which he pulls free and slips over my eyes.“There, perfect. But I think it would be better if you walked out of here. It’ll draw less attention than being in a wheelchair.”
