Page 35 of Collin: Episodes 1-3
When Collin was finished, Mr. Reevesworth turned him around and guided him to the bed. “Next time you feel the urge to harm yourself, ring the bell.
Collin’s throat tightened.
Mr. Reevesworth smiled, something knowing and sad around his eyes. He put his hand on Colin’s shoulder for just a moment. “We’ll get there, Collin. We will.”
Sleep came with difficulty that night. Collin tossed and turned, truly resting for only twenty or so minutes at a time. A dozen times the bell and its promise of companionship called to him. He wrapped his hands around the scratches, trying to ring pain from the healing marks. It wasn’t enough. Just a hint of the sweet relief he could have if only he would curl his fingers into claws or, better yet, found the tongue of a belt to score himself with.
Wednesday
“Collin.”
Collin forced his eyes open. His stomach churned in the familiar way that said not enough rest. “Mr. Moreau?”
“Richard needs you at the door.”
“The door?” Collin pushed himself up. The threatening nausea bolted from his stomach and shot into his head. He caught himself against the mattress.
“I’ll help you.” Mr. Moreau held out his hand. He was half dressed, his dress shirt on but only mostly buttoned. He wore pants but no socks and no belt.
“What’s going on?”
“We have a situation. But we’ll sort it out. They just need to see you.”
Collin took Mr. Moreau’s hand and got to his feet. The world spun, but Mr. Moreau was already moving toward the door. Collin followed. He caught himself on the door frame. There were multiple voices at the entrance.
Someone sounds pushy.
Mr. Reevesworth’s dark, authoritarian tones glided over the grumpier ones. Collin straightened up. If Mr. Reevesworth needed him, he’d make it happen. Blurred vision or not. With his hand pressed against his rebellious stomach, he followed Mr. Moreau to the entrance.
Three uniformed police officers stood in a cluster at the door, one of them, the tallest, with his hand resting on his service weapon.
“Collin is here.” Mr. Moreau said, tone dark but polite. “As you can see, he’s not being held against his will.
Collin swallowed. What?
“We need to speak to Collin ourselves.”
“Collin, please.” Mr. Reevesworth turned his body half sideways and opened his arm, welcoming Collin to his side, without giving the police any entry. “Could you put these gentlemen’s fears at rest? I promise we’ll get you back in bed as quickly as possible.”
Collin plastered his customer-service smile on and stepped forward. This close, he could see Mr. Reevesworth was in a similar state of preparedness as Mr. Moreau, but he had his belt on. “Good morning.” He nodded at the police officers and then looked to Mr. Reevesworth. “What are the concerns?”
“Their precinct received an urgent call with this location. Someone believes you’re possibly being held against your will.”
“Um…” Collin frowned and looked at the police officers, then back to Mr. Reevesworth. “Who called? Except for you and the hospital, no one knows I’m here.”
The shortest police officer lifted his chin. “Your mother is worried about you—a Dr. Sandra Ryker.”
Collin dropped his head. “And she has location sharing on my phone.”
“Yep.” The officer nodded and bounced a little on his toes.
“Look.” Collin put a hand up. “I know my mother can be a little…extreme sometimes. She has…history. It’s understandable. But I have no idea why she thinks I’m being held. I’m here of my own free will and the recommendation of a medical doctor. Several actually. I had a concussion and required assistance or the hospital wouldn’t have discharged me.”
The officer grimaced. “Sir, that’s not really our issue, but we can’t confirm that you’re not being held against your will as long as these two gentlemen are here.”
Collin looked back at Mr. Reevesworth. “They’re really police officers?”
Mr. Reevesworth paused. “I haven’t confirmed.”
