Page 114 of Mask and the Magnolia
Korvin said hefeltCalix, that he could almosthear himin his head planning for death, but he was in the middle of an unscheduled physical and medication review. One I didn’t authorize, nor had any knowledge of at all. He and Des were both in the midst of those when Calix was attacked and I have a feeling it was extremely intentional based on what happened.
I’m grateful whatever divine intervention took place andmade Vin run out of the exam room and straight to the storage closet happened when it did. There’s no telling what that horrible monster would have done to our beta.
Unfortunately, things have been a bit of a disaster of late and it’s been up to me to keep our pack afloat.
Korvin normally does that. I believe he’s the heart of our connections, the starting point for the bonds we share, and I feel that’s why he’s able to naturally keep us functioning on a more normal level despite how abnormal our circumstances are. However, Vin is currently in solitary confinement with no end in sight. He killed a member of Blackhurst Ridge staff incold blood, adecorated nursewho’d been employed here for years, and that meant he wasn’t exactly going to get a commendation for murdering a predator. So, to the mysterious and unoccupied Ward D he went.
Calix is in the infirmary on the first floor, recovering from the injuries he received during the attack. He’s been there for the last two days because Jones split his head open with the baton and it caused a relatively severe concussion. The busted nosedidn’t help, either. He can come to Ward C tomorrow according to his paperwork, but Calix is going to need to be monitored pretty closely. Not that I’ll struggle with that, I’m sure I’ll annoy the shit out of him by the time he’s able to go back to business as usual.
Our girl feels helpless right now and that’s why Maggie is coming in, so she and I can try to convince the board Korvin shouldn’t be punished so severely. We’re taking his files, his records, and I even have a few recorded therapy sessions where he actually did talk about why he was arrested, in hopes of showing his progress. The plan is to show them that our treatment is working and even though it was aheinous act of violence, it demonstrates his success. He made a friend, and he saved him from a life threatening situation.
So, yes, Des can pose the argument that Magnolia doesn’t need to come here to deal with any of that because she isn’t in any condition to do so after her own attack but he doesn’t know it’s permanent. She’s moving into the apartment across from mine after we go to the board because herentire apartment complex burned down.But he doesn’t know that, either. None of the boys do.
All of the commotion Jones caused meant we went into lockdown and between that and having the police on Ward C questioning everyone for hours, I’ve been up to my eyeballs in paperwork. I was also being watched so closely I wouldn’t have been shocked to find some kind of bugging device up my ass.
My babysitter left this morning, though, and I was cleared, whatever that means. I came right to Desmond as soon as I got the green light.
Not only is Calix laid out, Korvin is in solitary, Maggie is stills but banged up and starting over in a new place with zero personal belongings, but Des has gotten sick again.
According to the young nurse who performed his physical, my alpha passed out during his med review. She even had to use smelling salts to wake him. Unfortunately, she also had zero answers to my forty thousand questions about these unauthorized appointments, so I’ve gone fishing.
None of the men here take many medications. Neither myself or Magnolia are a huge fan of the way they’re pushed at psychiatric patients, specifically ones with criminal backgrounds, and we’ve only prescribed what seemed to be necessary case by case.
Desmond Hawthorne? When he came to Blackhurst Ridge he was on a rather wide variety of medications ranging from multiple anti-psychotics to migraine preventatives and we’ve worked hard to lessen his load while keeping him healthy.
He still has his monthly shot of Haldol, and he takes an antidepressant that also helps with his migraines. Des has a PRN he can take if he becomes manic and paranoid, something to bring his anxiety down and take the edge off whatever else he’s feeling. He has a rescue medication for severe headaches and migraines. We also have a plan in place if Desmond starts having auditory or visual hallucinations, real ones and not the ones he makes up because he thinks he’s funny.
Outside of those, he takes a few beneficial vitamins and supplements like the rest of the residents, and not one thing he puts into his body is completely foreign to it since we built off of what worked for him in the past.
None of it should be making him sick.
”She’s stubborn,” Des chokes out as his muscles start to spasm.
He curls into the fetal position on his bed, his fingers twisting the fabric of my slacks as he presses his forehead against my thigh. He breathes deep and his eyes close then he startscounting backwards from thirty two, whispering the numbers so quietly I almost can’t hear him.
This is the fourth time he’s done that and I’ve only been here a little over an hour.
I smooth his hair back, the strands drenched in sweat, coloring them a dark brown almost black opposed to his normal light blonde.This is breaking my heart.
“Why thirty two?” I ask as I use a small towel to dry his face, trying to get him to focus on me instead of the obvious pain racing through his body.
”Years,” he grunts as he quickly sits up and leans over the head of his bed, barely missing his pillow as he begins to vomit. After a few moments, Des wipes his mouth with another towel then all but collapses onto the mattress. “I’ve had thirty two years on this planet and at least half of those were spent dealing with worse bullshit than this. I can’t go back. Going backwards reminds me I have to keep going forward. It’s like running in place.”
While his phrasing and coherency makes me a little concerned we might be facing some sort of minor psychotic episode, I understand what he’s saying.
“Thirty two hurdles means thirty two obstacles you’ve overcome.” I feel his head again, his skin clammy but finally cool. “Figuratively speaking of course.”
Desmond’s lip twitches and his brows raise the tiniest bit but he doesn’t do more than that. It wasn’t much of a response, not by anyone’s standards let alone his, but it’s enough for me right now.
”Dr. Lowe,” says the same young nurse who ran my alpha’s physical. “Did you still want to draw blood in here or should I get a wheelchair to take Mr. Hawthorne to an exam room?”
”Here is fine.” I wave her in then start adjusting Desmond. “I’m going to have to poke you, my love, so you have to lie on your back.”
He grimaces as I help him roll, every visible muscle quivering with the pain it causes, and yet he still manages to say, “I’m not sure this is the time to try that, doc. We both know I’m a switch, do it for you in a heartbeat, but I want to be able to participate.” Des sighs, long and slow before drawing in another deep breath. “Don’t think it’ll work in this position. Not the first time, anyway.”
”I’m going to draw blood, Des.” My cheeks flame as I straighten out his arm and begin looking for a vein. “So just relax.”
“You blushing?”
