Page 14 of Resurrect Me

I saw another commercial advertising Duselizab, a medicine used for a wide range of diseases, and one that’s been on the market for two years. Recently, I’ve noticed a pattern with some of our repeat patients in the hospital. They’re all on this one medication. And twenty three out of the twenty-five have either miscarried or died this year. They were all under the age of forty. I put two and two together when my patient explained how the medicine made her feel “dizzy…like in a dream. Like turning into a ghost,” right before she coded in front of me. She was twenty-seven, pregnant, and a mother of two. The strange look in her eyes will haunt me until the day I die.

“Tacy, calm down,” Declan says and his eyes dart towards the open office door. “Please have a seat.”

I hate it when someone tells me to calm down. He rises to close the door. I notice he’s wearing a brand-new suit that’s been tailored to fit him perfectly. A pair of gold cuff links gleam when the sunlight from the window hits them. He runs a hand through his wavy blonde hair and returns to his seat.

“Declan. Please don’t tell me to calm down. You know women hate that,” I say through tight lips and perch at the edge of the chair. “It’s hard to calm down when people are dying in front of me.”

I can smell the Killian Black Phantom cologne seeping off him. Memento mori. This is the most buttoned up I’ve ever seen him. He’s dripping with fresh money. He sits behind his desk directly across from me. A smirk spreads across his face. He removes his suit jacket, showing off his bulging biceps that are so evident through his fitted shirt. This is a new Declan.

“People die every day, Tacy,” he says. “You work in a hospital. Obviously, you’re going to see people at their worst.”

“No shit, Declan. But this is different. This medicine is killing people. I’m seeing it with my own two eyes. They need to pull it from the market and do more testing on it,” I plead.

“The testing’s been done. Richardson and Company know what they’re doing,” he says and folds his hands on his desk. He leans forward. “Come on, you know this isn’t my forte.”

“It’s not your forte, yet I just saw you on their commercial, Declan. The governor on a commercial for medicine. Don’t you think that comes off as…odd?” I ask, nearly stopping myself from pointing out the obvious. That politicians shouldn’t be promoting pharmaceuticals.

He clears his throat and looks at me with hooded eyes. “I’m not sure what you’re implying, Tace. I mean, Good Lord, don’t you know me by now?”

I lean back in the chair and try to regain my composure. I can feel my face turning beet red, my pulse quickening. He knows exactly what I’m implying. I should choose my words carefully.

“That’s a nice new suit, Dee. Is it Kiton? Wool-cashmere blend?” I raise my brow.

He chuckles under his breath, rubs his chin, then answers with a subtle growl, “enough, Tacy. Did you come here to grill me on my wardrobe? Or do you have something else in mind?”

It takes all my might not to come across his desk and slap him. How dare he reprimand me?

“I came here to discuss the deaths I’m seeing that I believe are due to Duselizab. Like I said. There’s something not right with this medication,Governor. I wanted to inform you, because I trust you. I thought you could make some calls, do something to investigate this. Clearly, I was wrong,” I say and rise from the chair. I turn my back to him and glide towards the door. But halfway through the room, he closes the distance between us, grabs my wrist, and whips me around to face him.

“And if I get them to pull the med, what do I get in return?”

“Excuse me?” My nostrils flare. My face feels like it’s going to pop off my body. Who is he to demand something from me? The man I’ve known for a decade…Sol’s best friend? A man I’ve let into my house. Someone who’s played with my kids and sat at my dinner table during the holidays. This isn’t the same person. This is someone else. Someone’s taken his place. “What the fuck do you mean, what you get in return?” I try to wrench my wrist free from his grip, but he yanks it, and I stumble into him. Hewraps his arms around me and cages me in. I grunt and try to tug free, but he clamps down. I can feel his cock harden against my stomach. I grimace.

“You know exactly what I mean, Tace,” he murmurs in my ear. The slime slides from his mouth and floods my nervous system. “Stop being such a tease.”

The new Declan releases me slightly, then grabs behind my ears and tilts my head up to face him. I can hardly move, think, or react. I’m frozen in a paralyzing concoction of disbelief, disgust, and rage.

“Sol’s dead, Tacy. I’m the new Sol,” he says as he stares directly into my eyes. “Look around you. I’m the Governor. I can take care of you now, and Cammy and Ben too.”

He releases me, and I rush for the door. I gasp for breath and put my hand on the handle, then turn to address him one last time.

“You sure like to remind me that Sol’s gone. I don’t need the reminder. I’m fucking aware. We were friends. That’s it. But you’ve destroyed our friendship in a matter of seconds. It doesn’t matter to me that you’re the fucking Governor. You’ll never be Sol. I don’t know what the fuck happened to you, Declan, but you’re not acting like yourself. Do something good and pull this medication from the market,” I walk out, heart pounding and lungs heaving. Before the door slams behind me, I utter one last word, “Please.”

Chapter 11

Tacy

My stalker has texted me every day for a week. And this is terrible to admit, but I’ve almost grown accustomed to reading his messages. Am I sick? Maybe a little. But I also know my alarm system is working, and I have cameras all around my house. Sol’s life insurance money just came in, and I purchased the upgraded system. Twenty-four-seven surveillance and an alarm system that will trip if any window or door is even breathed on.

But back to my stalker. It’s oddly comforting talking to him. I know I shouldn’t return his texts. Any normal person would freak out and block the number. Possibly even report it to the police. But I’m not normal. I haven’t been for a long time. I have abandonment issues because my father left when I was still in diapers. And I have kinks that reflect the physical and psychological trauma I went through as a teen. When I was sixteen, I joined a local cult. The High Priest was an eighteen-year-old who initiated me into his coven…through sex. I never told anyone what I endured during my time in the cult, but when my mom moved us across the country when I turned seventeen, I was able to escape. I suffered abuse at this man’s hands. He forced me to do things most teens have never even heard of. Yes, it was terrifying and terrible and traumatizing. But when I turned twenty, I realized I had this deep, twisted desire to relive some of those moments and fuck my way through the pain. But to do it with someone I love. To do it with Sol. It was scary and perverted…but cathartic. Therapeutic, even. Judge me, if you want.

My traumatic experiences also inspired me to become a nurse. To help other people in pain. Maybe even help people out of bad situations. Once I helped a man escape a human trafficking ring. I will forever be grateful I had him as a patient and that he confided in me. No one should be forced to do things they don’t want to do…and especially not get paid for it.

It’s Friday night, I’ve worked a long shift, the kids are in bed and I’m ready to relax. I am alone. My mother and her boyfriend went home a few days after the cameras were installed. She’s checked on me every day, which is sweet of her. But still…when the house is quiet, I remember I’m by myself. One day the kids will be gone, and I’ll truly be alone. I look at my phone, lying beside me on the couch. He hasn’t texted me today. I pick it up and look over the text thread between me and “Unknown”. Why hasn’t he texted me yet? Usually, he’s messaged by now. The guilt and shame of wanting my stalker to talk to me suddenly washes over me. What the fuck is wrong with me?

I flip through channels and land on a movie I’ve seen a million times. Somehow, it’s comforting to me to watch it again. It was one of Sol’s favorite movies – The Bourne Identity. I think secretly Sol thought he was a bad ass like Bourne.

An hour into the movie and my phone beeps. I pick it up and read the text:

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