Page 23 of Until Waverly

“I know, honey. I know.”

Chris had stopped pacing and leaned on the corner of the desk, arguing with the Detective. Whatever Ava St. James was saying to Chris was only making him angry. “Fuck you, bitch. Like I told them, take me to my kid and this will end. Period.

I dug the palm of my hands into my eyes, trying to calm myself before I said something stupid. If Chris hadn’t threatened us and locked us down, he could’ve seen both. Everything happening on this floor was all because of him.

Idiot.

I’d been convinced more than ever Chris had some mental health issues. Yes, I understood people handled grief differently. However, holding an entire floor hostage along with shutting down one of the biggest trauma facilities in the southeast was not his best choices.

“Aren’t you a negotiator? Then fuckin’ negotiate. I don’t care if that’s not how it works. No! No. No. You’re going to listen to me.Why aren’t you, or anyone else, listening to me?My wife just died!Don’t I deserve some sympathy!”

He did. He had all our deepest sympathies about twenty hours ago.

Now, we had little pity left to give him.

Chris paced again, the phone to his ear while he carded his fingers through his hair. “Listen, I’m not letting anyone go, okay? Not until I see my kid, and don’t tell me you can’t help facility my demands. I know you can. Put him in one of those rolling cart things and bring him to me.” He went silent again. “I don’t want to hear what you can’t do. Just do it.”

Chris threw the phone on the ground, muttering to himself as he continued to pace.

“I’ll get it,” I said when the disconnect tone became annoying.

When I stood, I let out a small groan. The entire right side of my body was stiff. I shuffled at a snail’s pace to the other side of the desk where the receiver was located. As I bent down to get the phone, a shadow passed over the glass by the main door.

Whoever was there, they were dressed all in black.

SWAT, maybe.

Definitelynotsecurity anymore.

Chris must’ve noticed them too. He stepped forward at the same time I stood. Somehow, even if I tried to explain it, I probably couldn’t. We were tangled up. He gave me a hearty shove off him, and because of the placement of my feet, I tripped. My world tilted. The ground came up to meet me, and I had a feeling this wouldn’t be good, especially when it felt like the asshole was standing on my foot.

I couldn’t tell you which was worse, the sensation of my ankle give way and the snap or hearing it. It was like two chicken bones gnarled together, popping apart at the same time. I screamed in pain, trying to scoot away from the deranged father. My foot was on fire while also cramping up like all the bones were trying to crawl up into my body. For a second, I was weightless, caught in a cloud of agony as I continued to fall. Then my head slammed into the floor, like a watermelon dropped from the fifth-floor balcony. Electrical impulses raced through my brain, causing sparks of lightning to flash across my skull. Even though my head felt split open and I should be panicked by whatever my brain was doing, I’d been grateful. My vision narrowed. Buzzing filled my ears. I was going to pass out. Finally, blissful sleep would claim me. I wanted that so badly.

The powerful scent of ammonia pulled me out of the darkness. I jerked away in pain. Each movement sent sparks shooting through my head and up my leg. The putrid smell was back, and I woke reluctantly. The distant screaming was making my head hurt even worse.

“Shh, Waverly,” Joyce urged. “I’ve got you.”

It was in those scant seconds I realized the screaming was coming from me. Joyce had pulled me at least five feet back while also positioning my head awkwardly on her lap.

I searched my memories, trying to remember why I’d been there and what was going on. Flashing blue lights made it hard to keep my eyes open. The strobe hurt my brain even more than it had been. I tried to recall how I’d gotten there, on the floor, but everything was blank. I couldn’t recall a damn thing.

Around me, Amy, Joyce, and the other nurses shouted orders, hurting my ears even more if that was possible. I was aware of my surroundings but not. The light above made me nauseous, and bile rushed up my throat.

“Ohmigod,” I whimpered, starting to gag and choke.

“Turn her,” Amy ordered the second I started throwing up all over Joyce’s legs.

Gross.

“I’m sorry, Joy,” I finally choked out when my stomach settled though still queasy.

“It’s okay, Wave.” She gave me a reassuring squeeze, and I felt a pinch in my arm.

“What was that?”

Joyce answered, “It’s something to stop your nausea.”

I covered my eyes with my forearms. “The light is too fucking bright.”

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