Page 11 of The Hangman's Rope

“Have a seat on the couch, use the throw, and I’ll see what I can find,” he said. “We only just got here ourselves.”

“Hi, sweetheart,” the lady said kindly to me. “Why don’t you come on over here and sit with me a minute. Let’s see if we can figure out what’s going on, huh?”

I nodded, hugging myself, and stumbled slightly, getting going in her direction.

She seemed… nice. I was hoping that she would help me.

Chapter Five

Hangman…

I made myself busy in the bedroom, trying to find some shit that wouldn’t hang off her too badly, that she’d be both covered and comfortable in. She trembled, constantly. Like she shivered with cold, but there was no way she could still be that chilled. Not after the walk here. It wasn’tthatcool in here. Cooler than outside, sure, but only by about ten or so degrees.

I looked over to the light rap on the doorframe as I stood in front of my closet frowning, staring off into space, my mind working overtime on the problems little Lorelai presented.

“Hey, Doc. What’s the word?” I asked.

The doc sighed.

“I’ve taken blood, urine, and hair samples. No sign whatsoever of traumatic brain injury due to blunt or sharp force trauma. Without a CT or an MRI, I can’t rule out a stroke or aneurysm – but all of her symptoms fit that new designer drug that’s out there sweeping the nation.” She shrugged. “Toxicology should tell us if it’s that as soon as I run it.”

“If it is?” I asked.

“Then there’s nothing for it but time, letting that shit work its way out of her system. As for the rest, whether the damage is permanent or not, only time will tell on that, too.”

“You saying she might not ever regain her memory?” I asked.

“It’s hard to say with this shit. Some patients end up zombies, in a permanent vegetative state, after ingesting too much. It’s still so new, and there’s still so many unanswered questions about it.”

“Fuck,” I muttered.

“I’ll let you know what I find out. In the meantime, she needs quiet and rest. If she becomes agitated, give her one of these, but use it sparingly.”

“What is it?” I asked, catching the pill bottle she tossed me, the clatter of tiny pills inside the hard orange plastic.

“Xanax,” she said. “Could become habit forming, so go easy on it. A sort of ‘in case of emergency, break glass sort of a deal.’”

“Whoa, yeah, I’ve had my run-ins with this stuff,” I admitted.

The doctor frowned.

“Should I take them back?” she asked.

“If you’re asking if I’m hooked, the answer is I was. If you’re asking if I’d take them now knowing that I’ve had a problem with them? The answer isfuck no. I’ve got more self-control than that.”

She searched my face and gave a nod in my direction.

“I’ll call Synister with the results,” she said.

I nodded. “Thanks, Doc.”

She hesitated as she took a step back from the doorway and then stepped back into it, leaning on the doorjamb.

“There’s a better-than-good likelihood that she was, you know…”

I nodded. “It’s being used as a date rape drug. I get it,” I said.

“I didn’t want to push for an exam to that effect. You know, in case she never remembers. Most girls dosed with this shit thatdorecover lose days to even weeks before and sometimes after the drug is administered. Small blessings when they’re, ah,left intact.”

---