Chapter 6
Dylan
The clockon the wall told me it was five in the morning. I was grateful for it, the clock, with its steady ticking and the solid, reliable truth it told.Time goeson.
“Get any sleep?” Sergeant Kannon’s voice rumbled from thedoorway.
I looked up, blinked my eyes into focus; the ghostly impression of a floating clock faded slowly over his features. I shrugged and tiredly rubbed myeyes.
“I might have passed out for a minute ortwo.”
He stepped into the room, holding out a cup of coffee toward me. “Light and sweet, hope that’s okay,” he said, sitting in the seat next to me and settling in with agrunt.
“Yeah, thanks,” I said low. The cup warmed my hands, and I was profoundly thankful for it when it touched my lips. It took the chill out of my body and chased away the hunger. "I mean it. Thankyou."
“No big deal,” he replied casually, as if he really believedit.
Maybe he did. Maybe he saw families like this every night. Maybe my wife wasn’t so different; perhaps my life and the atrocities Sheri had thrown at us werenormal.
"You get a lot of this? I mean, you see a lot of this,right?"
He slowly turned his head toward me. His eyes were sad and full ofpity.
Damn it. I took a deep breath and sighed low. “I keep telling myself it isn’t so bad. We’ll get throughit.”
He cleared his throat, his gaze drifting over to the hospital bed in front of us, and the still figure of Sheri tucked beneath its crisp white sheets. For the last hour, I pretended she wasn't there. I ignored the beeps of the blood pressure machine as it measured how slow her heart pumped the blood through her body. I avoided the moans she made in her sleep and the way her skin took on a pale, bluish shine. I just stared at the clock on the wall and watched the time slowly tick by, second to second. Waiting for the moment everything would bebetter.
“In my experience, heroin isn’t a temporary issue.” He leaned back and rubbed his hands over his head. “It’s never an easy thing to get ridof.”
“Maybe I should move her away. We could start fresh. Somewhere new,” I said half-heartedly. I didn’t believe that, though; notreally.
“Yeah, that’s true, you could.” He studied me for a few brief moments, hesitating, his lips working themselves, it seemed, trying to form the next words to say. “A lot of people think environment is the problem. Or the people they hang out with. And if you could just get them away from it all,it’ll befine.”
“But it won’t be, will it?” Iasked.
“Heroin is everywhere. It’s inside her here.” He pointed to his forehead as he spoke. “She needs help, medical help, not newscenery.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” I said, settling back intosilence.
There was nothing more to say after that. We both sipped at our coffees until they turned cold, then he slowly pushed himself off the chair and ambled his way back to thedoor.
“Thanks again,” I called out after him, but the man just left, waving me off without a propergoodbye.
The clock became my only company again, slowly clicking, clicking, clicking, every second away. Fifty-six minutes after five o’clock, my mother-in-law rushed in, her cheeks pink from the outside air and her eyes red from the insidescene.
“How could you let this happen?” she hissed at me through angry, clenchedteeth.
“Me? Iletthis happen?” I stood up, stunned by her audacity. Sharp pins and needles sliced through my legs. “I went to work.All I do is work. I had no idea she was using that shitagain.”
“Where are my grandchildren?” she demanded, pushing her hands against the bedrailing.
“With the cops.”Fuck her. Fuck her and her high and mighty attitude that her daughter’s heroin addiction was myfault.
Her eyes widened, and her mouth droppedopen.
“Your daughter left MY children alone—ALL DAY,” I screamed, “to go and get high in her car. The car I bought her. The car I paid for.” I stepped forward, closing in on the bed. “Addison crossed a street by herself, with Ben in her doll carriage, and went to a neighbor’s house. A neighbor she knew was a police officer to help her find hermother.”
She stumbled back, disbelief and horror marring her perfect cosmetically plastic face. “No—”
