Yogi and I returned to the waiting room. Kenny was still where she’d left him, reading a children’s book with a look of pure concentration. Yogi sat beside him and began petting his hair. He curled against her with a satisfied sigh. I returned to my worrying, pacing the waiting room when I wasn’t fiddling in my seat.
“Melissa Thatcher?” came a call from the desk. I rocketed from my seat and approached as fast as I could in my heels.
“Yes?” I asked the doctor standing there. She looked haggard and overworked, but she did try to give me a semblance of a smile, which I wasn’t sure I appreciated.
“You’re Mimi Thatcher’s sister, correct?”
“Yes.”
The doctor nodded and looked down at her clipboard. “Well, the good news is that your sister will pull through. She’s had rather severe head trauma and a few broken bones, along with some internal bleeding, but it seems to be under control at the moment. From what we can see, there doesn’t seem to be any sense or movement impairment, but it may be too soon to tell the true extent of her injuries. She’s heavily sedated right now, but you’re allowed to see her. Briefly, please. You have five minutes.”
I nodded and didn’t bother arguing. I followed the doctor down the hall of the ER, waving to Yogi before I vanished behind the swinging doors.
The doctor showed me into a tiny room without windows. On the bed in the center lay my sister. At least, I thought she was my sister. The hair on the pillow was hers, but as for everything else, I couldn’t begin to recognize her.
Her entire face was either swollen, bruised, or bandaged. There was heavy padding wrapped around her head. Her left arm was in a cast, as were a few fingers. God, did he beat her with a tire iron and then shove her off a bridge? A sob caught in my throat, and I rushed to her, throwing myself into the seat beside her. I took the hand that wasn’t bandaged.
“Mimi?” I whispered.
One eye—the other looked like it couldn’t open—fluttered. God, she looked horrible. I was torn between wanting to cry and wanting to throw a chair at Joel out of anger. I’d always known he’d been a dick, but he’d never done more than slap Mimi here or there. What had driven him crazy? Even if he was into something more hardcore, it couldn’t have been street dust. Street dust didn’t make people violent. It had to be something else, something much stronger.
“Mimi?” I asked again, squeezing her hand lightly.
“Melissa?” Her voice cracked. I noticed she was missing one of her bottom teeth. “Is that you?”
“Yeah. I’m here.” I tried smiling through the tears that rose in my eyes.
“I’m sorry for yelling at you on the phone,” she murmured. She sounded very out of it indeed, but I was glad she was loopy instead of in pain.
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m just worried about you.”
“You’re worried about me?” I laughed lightly, then pressed my lips together to keep from sobbing. “Look at you.”
“Where’s Joel?”
“In hell, I hope.”
“Melissa, I…”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
Now I was definitely crying. I squeezed her hand harder, hoping that it wasn’t hurting her to do so. I kissed her knuckles, then lightly, her forehead. “I love you, too, Mimi.”
A nurse stepped in. “I’m afraid you’ll have to return to the waiting room, miss.”
I didn’t bother arguing, because I felt like it might upset Mimi. “Okay.” I stood, but leaned over to kiss her cheek. “I’ll be back, okay? I’m here for you. Always.”
But Mimi was already asleep, which made it easier to leave. I released her hand and returned to the waiting room.
* * *
Cops probably should have interrogated me, but this was Metro, and the few cops we had were always busy investigating more important things, like kids killed by drug dealers when they couldn’t pay up. It didn’t really matter, though, because I knew who did it and I knew exactly what was going to happen to him. If I had my way, that is.
I didn’t even have to go looking for Joel. He showed up at the hospital around two in the morning.
The hospital smell was making me sick. I told Yogi I had to go outside for a few minutes because I was going to vomit. Yogi promised to tell me if they called me, so I stumbled outside, taking in deep gulps of summer Metro air. It was dirtier than the hospital air, but at least it didn’t carry the scent of antibacterial soap and latex.
“Melissa?”
I froze at the sound of his voice. And before I could move, his hand clamped down on my arm. I almost slapped him, as I had done before when he got too grabby, but then something cold pressed against my side. My heart nearly stuttered to a stop.
“Joel,” I said slowly. “Put the gun down, please.”
“It’s all your fault,” he hissed. And I knew. He was still on something, something that didn’t wear off in a few hours.
Blue Kitten, perhaps? That was what Broderick had been talking about in Goddess. Ezekiel had expressed disdain for it, claiming it was the new “super drug” that was killing off customers faster than they could be made. And while I’d never hung around anyone on Blue Kitten, I’d heard the rumors of what it did. Hallucinations. Extreme paranoia. Violent tendencies. And the high lasted all day. It burned neurons like firewood. Overdose was exceedingly easy, and even those who were careful ended up with health issues, either from contaminates in the drug or from the drug itself. No wonder Ezekiel didn’t like it.
“Put down the gun.”
“I killed her!”
“No, Mimi’s alive. Joel, please. Just put the gun down.”
“She’s not alive because I killed her. I killed the woman I loved, and now I’m gonna kill you.”
I wanted to snap at him like I usually did, but his finger quivered on the trigger.
“You need help. Just put the gun down, and I’ll get you help.” My eyes crept toward the hospital entrance. I noticed a security guard standing near the front desk. It was too dark for him to see us, but if I could just get Joel screaming or firing the gun in the air, we’d gain notice.
I turned back to Joel and spotted tears trickling down his face, his pupils blown wide. Sweat dribbled down his top lip, along with a trail of snot. I almost felt bad for the bastard.
“They’re gonna come for me. They’re gonna strangle me, and I’m not goin’ without you.”
“Who’s coming for you, Joel? The police? Probably. But they’ll lock you up where you can’t hurt yourself or another person ever again.”
“Not the police. Them.” His lips quivered around the last word.
“Them?” If I could just keep him talking until someone noticed… “Who is ‘them?’”
“The shadow men,” Joel whispered in terror. “And they’ll come for me if I don’t blow your bitch head off.”
“It’s not real. The shadow men or whatever you think they are aren’t real. You’re high. Probably higher than you’ve ever been, and it’s all just a bad trip. So put the gun down, and let me get you help.” Or let me shoot you and put you out of your misery.
The hospital door opened. Joel freaked. But instead of putting a bullet in my head, he misfired and the bullet ended up in my side.