“My nephew is expecting me,” Walter lied even as he looked the man in the eye.
The man’s brow furrowed. “Really? The one who hasn’t written in two weeks?”
Alarm coursed through Walter.How did he know that?“He—he’s been busy. With business. His birthday is in a few days, and I promised to be there to celebrate with him, so you see I need to—”
A knock sounded on the door and it opened again to reveal Dr. Thorne. “Good afternoon, Walter.” Her pleasant looks, confident demeanor, and charming smile were all part of the reason Walter had chosen to come to Hollowgate Heights. Comforting. Reassuring.
Yet now her familiar features were enough to make him shiver.
“You haven’t given Walter his next treatment yet?” she asked with a frown as she looked between them.
The aide flushed. “No, Doctor. He says he’s no longer taking them. That he’s leaving tomorrow.”
“Leaving?” The disbelief in her voice had Walter shifting in his chair.
He didn’t want to argue, hardly had the strength for it, but he’d already started down the path of refusing their supposed remedies and he was stubborn enough to keep going. “Yes. I am sure you’d agree that I’m no longer improv—”
“I don’t, actually.” Dr. Thorne moved forward to stand beside him, forcing him to tilt his neck up to hold her gaze. “As we’ve discussed before, improvements come in spurts. It’s only natural that a plateau is sometimes reached.”
“Humph. Well, this is my last plateau.” Walter waved a hand again. “I’m done.”
“If you’re not leaving until the morning, we might as well do one more.” The doctor’s suggestion caused his stomach to roil. “It could push you into a state of true recovery. You might feel totally different in the morning.”
“No, thank you.” Not even the thought of true recovery was enough to change his mind, though it had been his fondest hope when he’d entered the sanatorium. To be free, finally, from this cancer eating him from the inside.
But it was fear that consumed him now.
“Very well.” Dr. Thorne turned with a sigh to the aide. “It seems our work here is done.” Her gaze flickered to Walter. “I’ll send someone in with the paperwork for you to sign.”
“Thank you.” Walter waited for a sense of relief, but it didn’t come. Perhaps it wouldn’t until he was well away from the place. The strange chemical smells, and the cloying sense of dread, and something not quite right.
“We will miss you, Walter.” She reached to shake his hand briefly.
He nodded in response, unable to return the sentiment. “Goodbye, Dr. Thorne.”
The remainder of the day passed slowly. He packed his final few belongings, frustrated that he had to rest so often as he did so. His lungs were tight. Painfully tight. The bowl of clear broth with no bread that he was served for dinner only made him more anxious to leave.
“A proper meal is what I need,” he muttered to himself, his stomach grumbling. “Then I won’t feel so blasted weak.”
Still, he sipped the tasteless liquid, wanting what little energy it might give him. Within minutes after finishing, a heavy fatigue took hold, weighing down his limbs, slowing his thoughts. Good grief, he had to get out of here.
The aide knocked and entered his room, leaving the door open. The sight of another patient watching from the doorway was enough to have Walter stirring. “Don’t you have anything else to do?” he asked irritably.
The man eased out of sight, but Walter felt certain he remained to listen. Any contact with others was craved; they were all kept in their rooms so much.
“Here are the discharge papers that Dr. Thorne mentioned,” the aide said, placing them on a small table, along with afountain pen. “You just need to sign here.” He pointed to the bottom of the sheet.
Walter could hardly keep his eyes open. Everything was blurry. Dim. He must be more tired than he thought. “I’ll do it come morning.”
“The doctor wants it done now.” The aide held the pen for Walter to take.
His thoughts fell away and he blinked through the mist, trying to remember what they’d been talking about. “Done? Sign…where?” he asked as he grasped the pen with clumsy fingers.
Another point at the paper that seemed to move across his sight, and it was over. Then the aide helped him prepare for bed.
“Sleep well, Walter. I’ll see you in the morning, and then you’ll be on your way home.”
Walter closed his eyes, a smile on his lips.Home. The word had never sounded so good. Exhaustion rolled over him, taking a firmer hold, but suddenly his eyes flew open as unease gripped him.
