James
Before shuttingthe light off in my office, I glanced at the weather app on my phone. There was a one-hundred percent chance of rain for my drive to Club Oxygen.Of course.I flipped the light switch off, closed the oak door, and decided to cut through the emergency room to get to the parking lot to shave off some time outside getting wet.
Nothing was out of the ordinary as I made my way through the bustling ER. It was a Friday night in Los Angeles, so it was busy as usual. I smiled and nodded my greeting to several doctors and nurses as I made my way around corridors and hallways that smelled heavily of cleaning products.
“Ducking out early, Dr. Brooks?” One of the ladies at the nurses’ station teased.
I laughed and flashed a smile. It was hardly early for me.
“Well, I’ve been here since 6:30 this morning,” I joked and then glanced at my watch. “It’s almost 9:30 in the evening,” I commented.
“Just teasing, Dr. Brooks,” she said.
I patted the top of the glossy writing ledge at the nurses’ station and bid her a good evening. A few feet away, I came upon the main station and desk area that was mostly used by the doctors and staff for the emergency room patients. My good friend, Sam, saw me as he hurried around behind the desk area gathering some things.
“James, you’re just who I was hoping to see,” he started. “FBI brought in five Trinities.”
My spine stiffened, and I set my palms on the glossy white surface of the desk. I hadn’t heard that term in years. The term “Trinity” stood for the name of a young woman who had been rescued from a kink house years ago. She had nowhere to go, and I, along with some Tops and Mistresses from the club, had tried to help rehabilitate her into society. Unfortunately, society proved to be too much, and the damage done at the kink house had been far too deep. Struggling to adjust, and perhaps having too many outside influences, Trinity took her own life.
Despite being a hospital administrator now, Sam knew that I’d had experience around this very delicate kind of patient. I also had complete confidence in our psychology and trauma staff to treat each of them with the respect and care that they needed.
“Counselors and doctors are with four of them. My patient was the last they brought in.”
Sam walked around the counter and pulled out his phone. He swiped through a plethora of repulsive pictures, showing me how the FBI found his patient.
“So young,” I said as Sam continued to swipe through the pictures. I frowned and held my hand up to prevent him from swiping to show me more. “Wait, go back. What is around his mouth?” I asked and waited for Sam to find the picture again.
“Metal barbells,” Sam said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Yeah, sick, huh? They fucking pierced this kid’s mouth closed.”
“Jesus.”
“Wait, it gets worse.” Sam pulled his phone back in front of him and opened up a text string between him and who I assumed was an FBI agent.
He set his phone on the counter and touched one of the pictures to blow it up. I was staring at a contraption that looked like it would be used for waterboarding.
“Garrett is the agent who found my patient, and he said the kid freaked out when he was offered water and when they went outside in the light rain. He said after they loaded the kid in the ambulance, they found the room with this sick thing. He said the boy’s severe reaction to the rain and water made perfect sense.”
I turned around and looked at all of the bays full with patients and staff tending to all of them.
“Where is this young man? Have you been able to get anything out of him?” I asked.
“He’s in radiology, and no. He’s in a lot of pain, and he’s struggling to talk due to the trauma to his mouth. I got the piercings off and bandaged him up.” Sam started to put his phone away, but I stopped him. “Don’t put that away. Forward me everything the FBI sent you on him.”
“So you’ll stop by and see him?” Sam asked while he forwarded my phone the information and photos.
“Of course, I will. I’ll be right back. I’m going to go grab some coffee.”
While I waited for my coffee to brew, I sent a text to Joshua and Alison to let them know I wouldn’t be at the club tonight due to an urgent situation at the hospital. When my coffee was ready, I picked up the foam cup and went back to the ER to find Sam and this young man. I stopped at the main physician station and walked behind the desk. Quickly, I logged into one of the computers and skimmed the emergency room patient list for the ones Sam was linked to this evening.
“Chisholm … Chisholm,” I murmured as I scrolled down the list of doctors, looking for anyone of Sam’s patients. “Female, sixty-five years… Male, eighty… Male, seventeen.” I clicked that one open but determined it wasn’t the young man Sam had referred to. The seventeen-year-old was brought in after falling off a dirt bike, but he was released with a sprained wrist. I continued my search.
“Anything I can help you with, Dr. Brooks?” one of the physician assistants asked as she zipped behind the counter and took a seat beside me at the other terminal.
“I’m looking for information on the injuries from the young man with the pierced mouth,” I said and leaned back in the chair.
“Oh, I think he is in the system as John Doe,” she said and leaned closer to help me scan. “I think the age is listed as unknown. Oh, here he is. Poor kid.” She tapped the screen for me, and it brought up the young man.
“Thank you,” I said, and began reading up on the initial assessment of him.
