Page 95 of Insidious Heart
She explained that she had a rough day at work, she forgot her lunch, and didn’t have time to go get anything. Stevie told me she didn’t eat before she went in either and while that, coupled with the blood loss, could most definitely make her pass out, it shouldn’t make her vomit. And instead of drilling her for answers to the questions I’ve had since I walked in, I went into protective mode as I so often do with my little dove.
I cleaned her up, dried her off, then carried Stevie to bed where I dressed her in my t-shirt and made her get under the blankets before fixing her some chicken soup.
My girl fought me, kept telling me to stop fussing over her and that she was fine, but my argument about how Stevie wasnotfine because no matter how good I am at making her come, orgasms shouldn’t make her pass out or vomit either, was something she couldn’t refute.
Momentarily black out? Yes, but not pass out and collapse on the bathroom floor.
Which brings us up to speed because Stevie has been pestering me about my black eye and bullet hole courtesy Sack-linski ever since I started force-feeding her soup.
“Will you tell me who shot you?” Stevie asks before taking another bite. “And maybe cover your thing while we talk about our days?”
I frown and look down at mything. “What’s wrong with my dick?”
“Nothing.” Stevie giggles. “I’m rather fond of him, but he’s a little bit of a distraction.”
“He isn’t hard.” Then I look up at her, my frown deepening. “And he isn’tlittle.”
“Oh my god. I know your thing isn’tlittle,Victor, I wasn’t calling him little. It’s just difficult to sit here and talk to you while it’s all hanging out.”
“Suit yourself, but I’m not putting clothes on.” I lean toward Stevie and grab a pillow from next to her, cover my lap, then offer her another bite.
“You don’t have to keep feeding me,” she says with a small smile. “I’m capable of feeding myself.”
“I know.” I shrug. “But I want to make sure you eat. If I let you do it yourself, you’lldistract mewith all the talking and never take a bite. And I’ll be too busy planning who I’m going to murder next when you tell me who hurt you.”
“Victor, please. It’s not that big of a deal, ok?”
I shake my head as I set down the bowl and pick up the mug of tea, handing it to my little dove with a grunt. “I’m not going to let this go, Stevie. Someone put their goddamn hands on you and I’m going to find out who it was one way or another so I can make it right.”
“By slitting their throat and dismembering them?”
I give her a firm nod as I take the tea and resume spoon feeding her.
Stevie sighs again but she’s smiling a little, so she can’t be sick of my shit just yet. “I got attacked at work, ok?” My jaw clenches before I open my mouth to get a name, but she quickly adds, “A resident. I work on the lockdown unit, you know that. Those people are harder to handle and can get violent if they’re having a bad day. I just happened to catch one of them on a bad day.”
“Really?” I give her an incredulous look. “An old man with Alzheimer’s hit you in the face, choked you, then threw you on the ground so he could kick you repeatedly?”
“He caught me off guard. I had just…” She looks over my shoulder briefly before meeting my eyes again. “I had just lost my favorite resident. I was upset and not paying attention. He got me right outside her room and everything.”
For the first time in my entire life, I can’t tell if someone is lying.
I’ve done enough looking into Rolling Meadows Nursing Home to know it houses some rather difficult residents, and I know that advanced stage Alzheimer’s and dementia can create behaviors as well as aggression. But I didn’t think some old dude could deliver such a beating to someone trained to handle him.
What do I know, though?
Research and reading outdated files isn’t the same as working directly with individuals suffering from those conditions. For all I know there could be a ninety-seven-year-old former ninja on the lockdown unit perfectly capable of taking out the entire nursing staff with one move. As long as they remember the move anyway.
Even though I find it hard to believe, it is possible when I rationally look at what my girl does for a living, which is why I let it go for now and ask, “You lost someone?”
Stevie nods as she swallows the bite I just gave her. “Mrs. Sanderson. Margie. She was, well, she was my favorite, even though we aren’t supposed to have favorites. We aren’t supposed to develop attachments at all but that’s hard to do when you’re taking care of them day in and day out.”
“And you developed an attachment to Margie?”
“She was like the grandmother I never had.” My little dove sighs and refuses the next spoonful of soup I offer, and I don’t push right now. “I’ve never known any of my grandparents, any family outside of my father, so I sort of latched onto Margie.”
I set the bowl on the nightstand and scoot closer to Stevie until our knees touch, suddenly compelled to find out more about my girl, and share parts of my story with her too. “Me either. My grandparents were all dead by the time I was born.”
“Which was when?”
