Suddenly, his arms are around me. To my surprise, I realize I’ve slid off the chair. Barry is holding me against his chest, but I can’t feel a thing. I try wriggling my fingers and toes. Nothing. I can’t even move my mouth to scream.
He’s paralyzed me. He’s taken my worst nightmare and made it a reality.
A clanging sound echoes in the room. Jill’s opened the cage door. Barry carries me inside and lays me on the floor, arranging my limbs in a position I can’t discern. My eyes track him as he exits the cage and shuts the door.
“Hurry,” I hear him say. “I’ve given her a low dosage, but she could still go into respiratory depression. I don’t want to intubate her.”
Jill’s body suddenly fills my vision. She’s taking pictures of me sprawled inside the cage. Pictures of me paralyzed, my face contorted with terror, the stain of tears on my cheeks, my dignity in shreds.
After what seems like an eternity, Barry carries me out of the cage and carefully deposits me on a blanket. His eyes find mine. “The first injection was a sedative, the second, a neuromuscular blocking agent. They’ll wear off pretty soon. Try to relax and you’ll be fine.”
His mouth continues to move, but I shut him out. I don’t need to hear anymore. I know now why they set all this up. It’s how they’re going to get to my father.
13
KANE
––––––––
I scrape the blade across my skin, grateful the hot shower has steamed up the mirror. I’ll take the risk and shave blind because I don’t want to look at myself right now.
I think of how my life is filled with moments of compromise: eating at a steakhouse to placate a friend, popping an animal-tested tablet because the migraine is too excruciating to ride out, overlooking the leather inner on comfortable shoes...hurting a woman who can’t fight back.
I don’t like Amy Hutchinson, but that’s no excuse for what I’ve just done to her.
I stayed with Amy afterward, monitoring her for the effects I deliberately neglected to mention—muscle cramps, raised blood pressure, burning at the injection site. I tried to talk to her, but she wouldn’t even look at me.
As I rinse the traces of shaving foam from my face, I catch the scent of cocoa butter body lotion. Nolene leans against the doorjamb, legs crossed at the ankles. I’m wearing only a towel wrapped around my waist and the look she gives me is admiring.
“Did you check the news?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Anything on Amy?”
“Not a mention.”
Relief fills me. “Good.” I grab my toothbrush and snake a line of toothpaste on it.
Nolene tilts her head. “I got some good pictures ofher today.”
I give a noncommittal grunt and brush my teeth. I’m not in the mood for a conversation about what we did.
“I’ll print out the pictures tomorrow morning,” she continues. “They’ll be ready for you when you go see Hutchinson.”
“Good. Thanks.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Really?”
“Nolene—”
“Don’t block me out.”
My voice is cold. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
