“Hello, Ms. Flanagan.”
Rachel pried her eyes open at the sound of a woman’s voice and struggled to focus on the blurry form of a blonde wearing a fitted Oxford dress shirt underneath a burgundy lab coat.
“My name is Dr. Wilson, and I’m here to make sure everything is fine while you wake up from the sedative. Sometimes we’ll get someone with an allergic reaction, but your vitals are strong, so you don’t need to worry about that.”
Rachel inwardly cringed at the condescending tone all doctors seem to have perfected.
“You should be well enough to sit in a few minutes. I ask that you stay on the cot until I give you the all-clear. I don’t want you falling and hurting yourself.” She patted Rachel on the shoulder and walked away.
While Rachel waited for the world to stop spinning, she looked around the room. Eventually, her eyes came back to Dr. Wilson, who was standing by a counter and writing down some notes in a file. The woman noticed Rachel and smiled reassuringly. “Would you like some water or juice? You have to be thirsty.”
Rachel hesitated, thoughts of drugged drinks flashed through her mind. But what would be the goal? She barely felt strong enough to sit on her own let alone get up and run away, not to mention, Adam could have killed her back at the parking garage. “Juice. Apple if you have it,” she finally said, figuring a beverage was the least of her current problems.
Dr. Wilson disappeared behind a curtain, returning a few seconds later with a small juice box in her hand. She handed Rachel a plastic cup with some ice and the juice. “Let me take your blood pressure while you drink. You might be a bit groggy for a while yet, but that will wear off soon. Other effects can include vertigo and some emotional volatility, but don’t worry, those effects are temporary.” Dr. Wilson wrote down some numbers she read off the blood pressure machine. “Mr. Darius will be back shortly to talk to you about your options.”
“My options?”
Dr. Wilson’s expression turned from open and approachable to closed and sad. It made Rachel nervous. Who was this Darius? She searched for an answer. She remembered Adam talking to someone named Dar on the phone months ago and a Darius at the parking garage, maybe this Darius was the same person. But why did Darius need to speak with her? And what kind of options did he have to explain? Her mind simply refused to ponder the implications.
“He’s meeting with Mr. Black now, but once he is done he will come and talk to you. In the meantime, relax, take a nap, or even walk around if you want. You are cleared to get up from the bed.” She paused and then continued with, “If you need anything, push the call button over there. Someone on duty will come and help you.”
“Thank you,” Rachel responded.
Dr. Wilson left her side and tidied up a few things on the counter near the wall before she smiled at Rachel and left the room.
After several long minutes, Rachel finally felt stable enough to move. Slowly, she stood and set her feet on the door. With each step, her balance improved. Her mind, on the other hand, was another matter entirely. Thinking about anything was a challenge, and her lack of fear—or any strong emotion, really—was a sure sign the drugs weren’t out of her system.
Rachel eventually reached the door and tried opening it. The handle wouldn’t budge.
Locked? Why?
Unease prickled her skin and Rachel shivered. Hospitals didn’t lock people into their rooms.
The air in the room grew heavy, squeezing her lungs until Rachel feared she’d hyperventilate from the pressure. She had to get out. Now. She needed a key, a bobby pin, a lock picking kit. Something. Studying the room, Rachel immediately dismissed everything but the medical counter as useless. Curtains and cots wouldn’t help her get out.
At the counter, she opened drawers and doors to all the cabinets, but nothing looked helpful.
Maybe I can break a window and climb out, she thought.
She walked toward the closest window curtain and pulled it to the side. The reflection of light she’d seen under the curtain had been fake. There was no window. She flung open the second curtain and discovered it, too, was false. That meant her only exit was the door, the locked door.
Shit.
What were they planning to do to her?
If she couldn’t break out... She shook her head, refusing to think negatively. She could fight her way out if she needed to. Returning to the drawer of medical equipment, Rachel grabbed a scalpel. She searched for another sharp weapon, but other than some hypodermic needles, there was nothing else she could use.
In the end, she settled for some small, completely useless, pointy scissors and positioning herself by the door. She wasn’t sure how long she would be forced to stand there before this Mr. Darius arrived, but Rachel wanted to be ready to make a run for it when he did.
*****If you like Innocence, please add it to your library!
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