“Hey, try to relax,” James said. He reached for the notepad and set it close to the edge of the table along with the marker. “Do you want to say anything or ask anything?”
I shook my head. I would figure it out.
Surprisingly, I did okay with the chicken noodle soup they brought me. James stayed by me the entire time and talked about how the hospital soup wasn’t terrible. It didn’t matter to me; I was starving.
After I ate, Dr. Chisholm came by to check on me, and they moved me to my new room. It was much bigger and had a bathroom and a window. There was a fucking window!
“Brandon, are you in any pain? Do you need some medication to ease aches?” Dr. Chisholm asked. I shook my head and kept looking at the window that was a short distance away. “Okay, try to rest, and I will be back to check on you in a bit,” he said. He spoke quietly to James near the door, and I started to worry. What was happening? After Dr. Chisholm left, James came over and sat beside me.
“What’s wrong?” I asked slowly so that the motion of my mouth didn’t pull the holes or blisters.
“Nothing is wrong, Brandon. The FBI agent is currently visiting with some of the other people who came in before you last night.”
I nodded, and my attention went back to the window.
“Would you like help out of bed so you can look out the window, Brandon?”
He said my name again, and I wanted to smile. I nodded. I was only hooked up to a heart monitor and something that took my blood pressure every so often, so James didn’t have to unhook much. Before he reached for me, he explained that he was going to wrap his hand around my upper arms to help me stand and then to walk with me to the window.
When my sore feet touched the tiled floor, I felt my legs shake. I slowly stood, and James tightened his grip on my arms. I thought I would be okay when he took hold of me, but I started to panic and sat down. Frustrated because I couldn’t stand on my own, I punched my thigh and felt tears threatening. I wanted to look out the window.
“Hey, Brandon, relax. It’s alright. Things will take time,” he comforted.
I pulled up my gown and looked down at my boney knees. I had lost all of my muscle mass. The fucking tears fell, and I felt so embarrassed. I scooted myself back on the bed and rolled to my side. I didn’t bother looking over my shoulder when I felt the bed dip. James reached over me, took hold of the bear, and pressed it against my stomach.
“It’s alright to cry, Brandon.”
It wasn’t.
“You’ve been through quite an ordeal. One that I can’t pretend that I know about, or how you’re feeling exactly. But I know that you have a lot of emotions stored up, and you need to allow yourself the freedom to express them.”
Tears kept falling and slipped between the gauze that was covering my mouth piercings. Quickly they started to burn, and I shut my eyes to force myself to stop crying. I fell asleep in that position and woke up a short time later by James gently rubbing my pathetic arm. He was still here. I rolled over and faced him and tried to apologize for being rude earlier.
“It’s alright, Brandon. Now, two FBI agents are here to talk to you. I will stay here by your side through their interview, as will Dr. Chisholm. Turns out that I know the agent who found you. He’s a good gentleman, and you’re safe in his presence. But, having said that, all you need to do is tell me when you’re tired and need a break, okay?”
I nodded. James said they’d be in soon, and I turned to look out the window. The setting sun reflected off the hospital windows on the wing tower that was across from my room. It’d be dark soon.
“Hi, Brandon,” Dr. Chisholm greeted when he came in, and I turned my attention to the door.
Following behind Dr. Chisholm was the man and woman that I remembered helping me last night. Dr. Chisholm walked closer to my bed, carrying a bottle of water and a straw. He handed James the straw while he twisted the cap off the bottle. James put the straw in and bent the accordion portion of the bendy straw toward me. I wrapped my hands around the bottle and sipped.
“Remember these guys, Brandon?” Dr. Chisholm asked. When I nodded, he introduced me to them again. “This is agent Garrett Losche and Roz Thompson. They’re going to talk to you for a little while and ask some questions. I let them know that your mouth is still sore and that you might prefer writing your responses. They understand, so don’t stress.”
I nodded as James moved off of my bed.No! I thought he was staying!The heart monitor started making a lot of noise, and Dr. Chisholm’s attention was drawn to it. I looked at James as he hadn’t moved as though he was going to leave.
“Try to relax, Brandon,” Dr. Chisholm suggested.
“Don’t leave,” I blurted out to James and set my water on the table next to my notepad. “You said you weren’t leaving.” In a panic, I rushed my words and reached for my sore jaw.
“I’m not going anywhere. I was going to sit here next to you in the chair.”
I liked him being close, but I understood. James pulled the chair closer to the bed as the FBI agents sat in chairs near the foot of my bed. I felt tears gather in the bottom of my eyelid, but James reached over and picked up the bear and pressed it against my stomach. Desperate for him not to leave, I reached down and pulled the fleece blanket that was part of the bear up and over James’ hand. I set my hand on top of his, holding him in place.
Was this weird? Were they going to think I was really fucked up? Was James going to think this was whacked and then leave? Was this assaulting hospital staff, or something? I grabbed at his hand kind of, and now I was trying to prevent him from moving it.
I remember seeing some court drama TV show about a woman who was charged for assaulting a hospital staff member. I hadn’t seen anything on TV since before Sebastian. Really, since Eli. Suddenly, tears came out of nowhere again, and I lowered my head so they wouldn’t see. Though I didn’t want to, I removed my hand from the bear’s fleece blanket, letting James move his hand.
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
