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“Loss of memory from last night seems to be the biggest side effect. Research is still being conducted on long-term effects. It’s not like clinical trials can be ethically conducted, especially with dosages like what was found in her blood.” He clears his throat. “In addition, alcohol or other medications could alter the side effects. There are so many variables to consider. You should count your blessings that you were not assaulted,” he says, giving me a stern look, “or left to choke on your own vomit.”
Graham turns and looks out the window. It is a dreary, rainy day.
There is a knock at the door. I move my head to look past the doctor and see Claire and Zander walk in.
“Angie! I am so glad you’re all right!” Claire says at full volume, pushing past the doctor to give me a hug.
Zander stays on the sidelines with a vase of flowers that has a little balloon sticking out of the top. “You had us all very scared,” he says sadly.
“Not my intention.”
“She was drugged,” Graham explains. “I will find out who did this to her. That is a promise.”
“Oh, Angie,” Claire responds. “I’m so sorry.”
“If you reject counseling, then you are free to leave,” the doctor says. “Otherwise, you will need to wait for rounds.”
“I just want to go home.”
“Very well. I’ll send in the nurse to detach your lines and handle the discharge paperwork.” He turns and leaves the room.
“Are you going to file a police report?” Zander asks, moving closer to my side.
Graham gives Zander a once-over and looks back and forth from me to him. “Police reports are useless. To them, a real crime has not occurred. I will do everything I can to take care of this. I have connections and resources.”
A pang of guilt hits my heart. “I just want to go home and rest.”
Claire gives me a smile. “Let’s bust out of here and go ho—”
“She’s spending the rest of the day and night at my place,” Graham interrupts. “I need to get a list of everyone she encountered at the bar last night.”
“I can just text you,” I say softly.
“Angie, you nearly gave me a heart attack. I would appreciate it if you would just come back with me. You can rest. I can drop you back off after dinner, if that’s what you want.”
Claire opens her mouth and closes it. I know she wants to argue on my behalf. I just do not have it in me to endure a fight.
“Okay, fine,” I sigh. “Can someone please grab me my clothes, so I can change and get out of here?”
“They got destroyed when you arrived here,” Graham answers. “Claire brought you something from your home.”
“Here, Angie.” She hands me a duffle bag. “All the essentials.”
“Thanks.”
Graham calls for the nurse, and she unhooks the tubes attached to me without saying a word. I retreat slowly to the restroom with my bag and change into a matching maroon sweat outfit. I brush my hair and pull it back into a messy bun. Washing my face brings life back into my skin. I brush my teeth and realize that I feel human again.
I decline counseling, sign my discharge papers, and allow Graham to escort me to his penthouse suite at the top of a luxurious building in the heart of the city. The silence from the car ride and the elevator trip is so loud that it is deafening. He is pissed off. At whom, I’m not sure.
The doors of the elevator open, and we exit into a black-tiled foyer, which is completely separate from the main living area. Looking through the open doorway, I can see white furniture arranged against the back wall. The ceilings are so high that it’s hard to believe that we are in a multi-floor building. Black-and-white abstract paintings fill the space. Punches of vibrant colors add to the otherwise bland pieces. My eyes fixate on the contrast. There is such beauty in simplicity.
I turn to Graham and see his standoffish body language. “Can you just say something?” I plead.
He shoves his hands into his hair and stares into my eyes. He bends down and our foreheads touch. His skin feels so warm that it startles me. My arms slide around his back, and I wrap myself in his warmth. He hesitantly does the same. Here we stand in his foyer—wordless. Yet our bodies are physically touching more than they have ever been.
“Why are you not more upset over being drugged?” His shaky voice breaks through the silence.
I think about the question for a moment. “Because I knew my friends would never let anything bad happen to me.”
