Stuck Page 10

  After I had returned to my shift from my lunch break, I made my rounds checking on my patients. As I stepped out of Mrs. Reynolds’s room, I was stopped dead in my tracks when I felt eyes burning into the back of my head. My eyes widened, and the hairs stood up on the back of my neck. Were Vinny and Roger there? Seeing as how they hadn’t been around since Sunday, I was expecting them to come at me at any time to ask if I had the stash yet. With great hesitance, I turned my head to look behind me. To my surprise, they weren’t there. But… how? I swear I felt eyes on me. An uneasy feeling came over me, but I did my best to think objectively. I was just getting a little paranoid. It was understandable in my situation. Doing my best to shake it off, I continued to do my tasks.

  The rest of the day, I caught myself constantly checking over my shoulder. The feeling of eyes on me simply wouldn’t leave. You’re letting yourself get paranoid. Wait. Was that my thought or the whispering? For the life of me, I couldn’t figure it out. I tried to convince myself that it had been a genuine thought and not some figment of my imagination—but I couldn’t even persuade myself of that. As the day progressed, it happened more and more frequently, unable to distinguish my thoughts from the false voice in my head. And each time it happened, the thoughts were harsher and harsher. Everyone knows you’re a paranoid mess, I heard at one point. You do know you’re crazy, don’t you? That one, admittedly, was hard to shake. Surely that was just me criticizing myself, right?

  By the end of the day, I had managed to work myself into a nervous fit. I had set up an appointment with my supervising attending, Dr. Liang directly following my shift. I was already in my casual clothes when I approached her office door, giving a quick rapping on the door. She looked up from a file she was going over and smiled at me, “Dr. Gilmore, please come in.” Returning the smile the best I could, I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. “So, what’s going on?” she asked in a polite tone.

  I cleared my throat nervously, wringing my hands together. “It’s a personal matter, not work related. As you know, my father passed away a little over a week ago. I’ve been struggling a bit with his death. It’s making it hard to focus and get through the day, really. I was wondering if you would be comfortable giving me something, just to help me through the next couple of weeks as I get my family matters situated. I know this is a little unprofessional, but I wanted to come to someone I knew about it.”

  Dr. Liang’s dark eyes gleamed at me with sympathy, her head nodding slowly at me, “I understand why you came to me. Losing a family member is hard, no matter what state your relationship was in with them. So you think you’re experiencing depression? What are your symptoms?” she asked, grabbing a notepad, already jotting something down.

  “Insomnia, migraines, fatigue, excessive guilt, anxiety… the works basically,” I informed her, chuckling weakly. “I’m not asking for anything hardcore, just something to make me able to function through the day.”

  She then grabbed her prescription pad. Well, that was easy. “I’m going to write you a prescription for a mild antidepressant. It’ll last you a month, just to get you through this tough time. However, if you find you need more, come back to me, and I’ll help you get into some counseling and adjust the medicine as needed. Don’t be embarrassed to come to me.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Liang,” I told her as she handed me the prescription slip.

  “Of course. And if you end up needing some additional time off to process this, just let me know.”

  That was an extremely tempting offer, but I had to work in order to pay my bills. Giving her a nod, I said my goodbyes before departing. I held the piece of paper like it was a golden ticket, holding out hope that the whispering was just a manifestation of my grief over my father, and that the antidepressant would get rid of it. On the way to my parents’ house, I stopped by the pharmacy and got the prescription filled. The moment I got home, I unpackaged the pill bottle and took one as instructed on the bottle. Please, please, please work, I pleaded internally.

  A band-aid doesn’t fix anything, the whispers cooed to me.

  I shut my eyes as tight as I possibly could, as though I could will the voice away. It isn’t a voice, I immediately defended myself. I didn't hear voices. It was just my mind’s way of grieving. If I started to question myself, I would start to question everything, and I didn’t need to cause more panic for no reason. My diagnosis made sense, so I needed to believe in it and stand by it. Walking into the kitchen, I went to the fridge and grabbed the ingredients out to make chicken stir fry. Cooking would help me get my mind off things while I waited for the medicine to set in.

  I immersed myself in the task of cooking, taking my time with everything. My nerves actually settled a bit, glad to be able to cut my mind off for once. The medicine was definitely starting to work. Before I realized it, the white noise was gone. Sweet, sweet silence, I thought to myself happily. My diagnosis had to be right if a mild antidepressant was enough to get rid of the whispering noise.

  Just as I let myself start to rejoice in regaining my sanity, there was a loud thud from the living room as someone swung the door open aggressively. My brow furrowed. Lyle? Before I could go see for myself, two men were barging into the kitchen. Vinny and Roger. My eyes were wide and face drained of color. Vinny grabbed me by the face, “Why the fuck haven’t you called me?” he growled.

  “I-I… I haven’t found it,” I admitted to him. “I’ve torn this place apart looking for it. I’ve talked to all the people I could. I’m trying. Please believe me.”

  But begging wasn’t working with him this time. With a snap of Vinny’s fingers, Roger tackled me into the fridge. He pinned my face to the fridge door, twisting my arm behind my back and lifted the hem of my shirt over my head to cover my face. What was he going to do to me? He jerked me into his side and pushed me into what I thought would be the counter, but searing pain immediately shot through me. He was burning my shoulder blade on the hot eye. I screamed at the top of my lungs in pure agony, tears rushing down my face as I struggled against him. The more I struggled, the harder he pushed me into it. When I stopped fighting, he grabbed my head and threw me forward onto the floor. My face met the ground first, and I just stayed there, in far too much pain to move.

  Footsteps were right next to my head. “This is your warning to hurry it up. This will be your only warning. Find my shit,” Vinny growled at me, sounding close to me like he was crouched down. Then, their footsteps moved further from me, and seconds later I heard the front door close. They were gone as fast as they appeared, only popping in to make sure I hadn’t forgotten that they were dangerous men—as if I could forget. With tears of misery pouring from my eyes, I gradually removed my shirt from over my head and pulled it from my arms so that it wouldn’t touch the burn. Each movement was torment since moving my arms required my shoulder blades to move. What the fuck was I going to do?

  Having no choice but to lay there in agony, I waited for Lyle to get home from work. I had no idea how much time had passed by the time I finally heard the front door open. It had felt like several hours. Lyle’s foosteps moved through the living room and headed to the stairs. There was a thump as he dropped something. “Holy shit, Jase!” Lyle exclaimed. “W-What happened?!”

  “Vinny stopped by,” I croaked out, my throat dry from lay there so long. “I can’t get up. It hurts to lift up with my shoulder blade being burned,” I explained to him.

  Lyle wasted no time crouching to my side and helped me get to my feet without having to use the arm on the side the burn was on. I was embarrassed for having remained on the floor, but I really hadn’t been able to bear through the pain enough to get myself up. My brother then helped me into a chair, my chest against the back of the chair to leave my back exposed. “My god, Jase… Do you need to go to the hospital?” he asked me, his eyes focused on the burn.

  “No. No hospitals,” I muttered. How would I explain a stove coil burn on my shoulder blade? “Could you clean it fo
r me? I’ll walk you through the steps…”

  “Yeah, of course,” Lyle nodded. “What’s first?”

  “Get my painkillers,” I muttered. “They’re in my bag.” Lyle moved away from me for a moment before returning with the prescription bottle in hand. Taking it from him, I popped two of the bitter pills into my mouth. Once I got them down, I cleared my throat. “You’ll need cold water, a clean, dry towel, anti-bacterial cream, and gauzes.”

  As soon as I was done saying the list, Lyle buzzed about to collect all of the things I mentioned. It was nice to see him so attentive and eager to help. I hung my head off the back of the chair and closed my eyes, trying to bear through the pain as I waited for the medicine to kick in. Lyle returned a bit later, all of his materials laid out on the table beside me. He hurried to wash his hands and then came back over to me. I talked him through the steps on how to treat the wound. As he poured the cold water over the burn, I bit down into the wood of the chair so that I didn’t scream. God did that hurt. “Sorry, sorry,” Lyle muttered.

  “You’re doing fine,” I assured him.

  He listened intently to every instruction I gave him, following it to the T. “I can’t believe they did this to you…” he breathed. “I know it’s been a few days, but still… This is going to leave a mark on you forever. Even for thugs, I thought they would have given you at least one more beating before scarring you for life,” Lyle told me, trying to joke around a little at the end.

  The ghost of a smile was on my lips, still in too much pain to give a full smile. “Surprised me too.” It took some time, but eventually, Lyle finished treating the burn and wrapped it securely. “Will you get me down a bottle of booze?” I asked my brother as I stood slowly. Typically, I was sure he would have made some sort of crack at me for drinking, but I don’t think he cared since I was injured. Lyle returned to me with a bottle of vodka. Taking the bottle from him, I moved upstairs. There was no way I was doing anything but laying in bed and attempting to black out.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN: WARNING LABELS

  The Next Day

  I was barely functioning with how much pain I was in. I had to consider myself lucky, though, because even though it was a nasty burn, it hadn’t been bad enough to where I would need professional medical attention. And the only thing that was keeping me going at that point was painkillers, knowing I wouldn’t be able to move much without them. Just a week into staying at my mother's, I had already gone through a little over half the bottle. I knew I was taking too many of them, but I had to keep taking them at this point—the burn hurt too bad.

  Trying to hide the fact I was in pain was harder than I anticipated, especially when I had to help lift patients or reach for anything. By just ten in the morning, I knew I was going to lose it if something didn’t give. I was in so much pain on top of being beyond exhausted and on the verge of a nervous breakdown. The only thing I could think of was to get more medicine to help me function. The problem was, though, that with a prescription for pain medication and antidepressants on my file, doctor’s probably wouldn’t want to give me anything else. If I went to a physician again, they would likely have me admitted to the hospital. I didn’t have time for that.

  So I had to get the medicine myself. Grabbing a file to look like I was going to check on a prescription for a patient, I headed into the pharmacy. My hands were shaking as I glanced around the room. I could lose my spot in the residency program if I was caught stealing medicine. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I walked up to the pharmacist on duty. “Hey, Dr. Tilley,” I greeted as I approached her.

  “What can I help you with, Dr. Gilmore?”

  “Did you fill a prescription for room 315 a little while ago? I heard some nurses rushing over there. Apparently, the patient was given penicillin instead of doxycycline. They are allergic to penicillin, and so the attendings are trying to get to the bottom of the mixup.” I despised that I had to lie so much; before all this insanity I had always been a faithfully honest man. The stress was putting me into situations that I never thought I would be in. I just hoped that if someone figured out what was going on, they would understand why I was doing what I was. I had to protect my family above all.

  Dr. Tilley’s eyes widened, and jaw dropped, “Oh my god, I need to go see what happened. I’ll be right back!” She rushed out of the room. As soon as the door closed, I moved behind the counter. I was on the fifth floor so it would take her a few minutes minimum to go down to the third floor and check on room 315. My eyes scanned the shelves rapidly as I tried to make my pace leisurely so that I didn’t look too suspicious to the camera—it already would since I was behind the counter, but it wasn’t a fireable offense. As I made my way around, I let my fingertip glide across the edge of the shelves. When I approached where the Ritalin was—needing something to help me stay alert as well—I bent down, managing to swipe it into my sleeve without being obvious. Pretending to tie my shoe, I stood up and casually placed my hands in my pockets, the bottle falling into my pocket. Walking around some more, I repeated it again when I found hydrocodone. Once I made my way up and down each of the aisles of shelves, I moved back around the counter and leaned against it. I was sweating a bit out of nervousness but wiped my face dry with my trembling hands.

  Just moments later, the door to the pharmacy opened and Dr. Tilley entered with a confused look on her face. “Are you sure you heard that right, Dr. Gilmore? The patient in 315 isn’t even on antibiotics,” she questioned me.

  I screwed my face up in a look of bewilderment, “Are you serious? That’s insane… I could have sworn that’s what I heard the nurses saying… I’ll go check into it and get back to you. I’m sorry I caused confusion,” I frowned to her. I really needed to stop lying.

  “Oh, you’re fine, doctor! Thank you for coming to let me know when you heard something like that. Definitely, let me know once you get to the bottom of it,” Dr. Tilley told me, moving back behind the counter.

  “Will do,” I smiled weakly at her and walked to the door. When I got out to the hallway, I let out a shaky breath. I can’t believe I just did that. I hadn’t stolen anything since I was a kid. Quickening my pace, I hurried down the hall, going to the staff locker room. Pacing over to my locker, I grabbed the pill bottles from my pocket. Taking a pill from each, I put the bottles inside my bag and popped the pills in my mouth. I knew it was dangerous to mix so many different kinds of pills, but I told myself it would be alright. A painkiller, antidepressant, and Ritalin wouldn’t kill me. Sitting down on the bench nearest to my locker, I took a breather to give the pills a little bit of time to kick in. And soon enough, I could feel them taking effect. The pain from the burn gradually eased, and my scattered thoughts began to form into full ideas. Letting out a sigh, I stood up and left the locker room, needing to get back to work.

  As I walked into the hallway, the familiar feeling of someone watching me washed over me. I could feel eyes on me from behind. With my heart pounding painfully in my chest, I glanced over my shoulder. Neither Vinny nor Roger were in sight. Were they there and just hiding from me? Why would they torture me at my job? It was a very public place, people bustling around everywhere. Weren’t they afraid someone would wonder what they were up to? Or maybe they weren’t there, and my paranoia was just getting the best of me. I didn’t know, but I wasn’t sure how much more I could stomach. It was stressing me out, making it impossible to work.

  Doing my best to figure the feeling of someone watching me, I attempted to immerse myself in my job. But, I was proving to be unsuccessful at it. With the whispering in my ears gone, it was like things were unusually quiet. It was putting me on edge, every little sound around me making me flinch. My heart was aching from all of the anxiety. My stomach was in knots and a nervous sweat on my head as I continued about my shift. I would tell my patients were weirded out by how anxious I was. God, I really just wanted to do my job. I didn’t want to have to worry about drug dealers jumping me at work. The sensation of eyes on
me became constant, not easing up for even a moment. My heart was beating painfully in my chest, feeling like I was nearing a heart attack. My eyes were always scanning my surroundings. I didn’t even just look for the men anymore but trying to see if anyone was even looking at me. No one ever was.

  Just hold it together, you only have a couple of hours left, I tried to soothe myself. If I managed to get through my entire shift feeling like this, I could get through the last couple of hours. At least, so I had thought. When I emerged from a patient’s room, my eyes immediately fell on a man peering around a corner, who moved from my view in a blur. My heart seized in my chest. Was that one of them? With trembling hands and wide eyes, I hurried down the hall to try and see if I could spot the person again. When I turned the corner, there was no one there. My breathing was labored, panic completely rattling me. Had… Had they actually been there?

  “Jason, are you alright?” a soft voice called from behind me.

  Having to rip my eyes from down the corridor, I glanced to see Dr. Liang standing next to me. Concern was swimming in the depths of her dark brown eyes. As I stared at her, I slowly became aware of how I must have looked. My eyes had dark circles around them from lack of sleep which made them look bruised since I had a black eye still. My hair was oily, not able to recall if I showered that morning or if my last shower had been the day before or even the day before that. And there I stood, in the middle of a hallway, shaking and looking petrified. Just looking at my boss was sobering, realizing just how out of touch I was. I was in no condition to be treating people. Embarrassment settled over me. No longer did I feel like two men were watching me, but everyone in my immediate area. “I-I think I need to go home. I don’t think I’m well enough to work,” I muttered to her, my face still drained of color from the panic I felt.

  Her hand grasped my shoulder, “It’s alright. No one is well-adjusted immediately following losing a family member. Go ahead home, and take tomorrow off too.”