"About a five, maybe a four."
He gives me a skeptical look. "I've never seen anyone with your level of injuries be on such a small dose of pain meds."
"I have a high tolerance for pain. I get hurt on the football field all the time. This is nothing."
"You're not just saying that, are you? Because there's nothing wrong with accepting pain meds. It doesn't make you weak."
"I'm fine. Is there any way I could get out of here now instead of later? I really need to see my girlfriend and the nurses refuse to let her back here."
"I'll see if I can move it up. When will your girlfriend be here?"
"She's usually here around noon."
He nods. "I'll see what I can do."
"What about my brother? He can come in here, right? He's 15. Is that too young?"
He lets out a long sigh. "That's actually the other reason I came to talk to you."
"What do you mean?"
"There are some men here who would like to speak with you. We haven't let them talk to you before now because we weren't sure anything you told them would be factual given your head injury and the effects of the drugs. Now that you're more coherent, they’d like to speak with you."
"About what?"
"Your brother."
"What about him?" I ask, my heart pounding.
The doctor looks down, then back up at me. "Your brother's been missing since Monday."
"He WHAT?" I shove myself up in the bed, pain shooting down my neck, radiating across my ribs.
"I need you to calm down," the doctor says, putting his hand on my shoulder. "Getting upset will only make your condition worse."
"Jake is MISSING? Did someone—" I stop, already knowing the answer to the question I was about to ask. "He took him." My jaw tightens, straining the bandage on my neck. "The bastard took him."
"The police believe your father picked your brother up at school on Monday. They've been searching for the vehicle but so far, they haven't been able to locate it."
"Fuck!" I slam my fist against the rail on the side of the bed.
"Dean, you need to calm down. I know you're upset but you'll only injure yourself more if you hit things or abruptly sit up like you just did."
"Like I give a fuck?" I say, looking him in the eye. "My little brother is missing. I'd die for that fucking kid. You really think I give a shit about giving myself more bruises? I'm going to be in a lot worse shape after I deal with my dad. That fucker is not taking Jake!"
The doctor walks over to the curtain at the end of my bed, whispering to someone standing behind it.
"Who is it?" I ask. "Who's there?"
The doctor comes back, along with a police officer.
"Dean, I'm Officer Davis," the cop says. "I've been working on your brother's case. I'd like to ask you some questions if you're feeling up to it."
"Where is he?" I demand. "Is he still in Chicago?"
"We don't think so," the officer says, stepping up beside me. "There's a good chance your father left the state, most likely with your brother. It'd be risky for him to remain in the area unless he had a place to hide out. That's one of the reasons I'd like to talk to you."
"Are you okay with this?" the doctor asks me. "If not, we can ask him to leave."
