But today, the words are gone again. I’d lied, telling them it was due to strain on my throat. But the truth was, I woke up this morning after the worst dream—a memory, actually. The same haunting kind that Dollie had a few days ago. Mine wasn’t centered around my parents. It was me in my room with Dollieand my stupidity. We were in the dark. She hates the dark. How could I not have known something was wrong?
The urge to cause pain has vibrated each of my limbs since my eyes peeled back this morning.
I pull my phone out, tuck it under my pillow, and send another message to Dollie.
Lucky:
6 hours to go.
My anxiety peaks as the low battery glows red from the corner of my screen. That measly fifteen percent isn’t gonna make it six hours.
I place the phone down on my stomach, waiting for the doctor to return so I can see if he has a charger I can borrow—because I’m done hiding this thing—or for Dollie to reply, whichever comes first.
My phone buzzes.
A rush of excitement would no doubt be present if I just fucking relax a little and rid my head of thoughts of strangling Shane.
Any chance of excitement fades to nothing when I see the name Annabelle.
Annabelle:
Hey! Just thought I’d check in while on a quick break, as I’m at work until six. Let me know how you’re doing when you can.
Ambrose:
Have you spoken to Dollie?
Annabelle:
This morning. She’s okay. Chill. Those doctors see your blood pressure rising, and you’ll be there for another day.
Like fuck I will.
My phone flashes, the battery is somehow already on the five percent countdown to death.
The door opens, my mouth too, finally giving in and ready to resort to words because I expect to see the chipper young psych doctor, who doesn’t take his job too seriously.
But instead, I see Dr. Harrison leading in the doctor in a white coat, who has been monitoring my improvement.
“Your sister is outside.” He smiles tightly.
“Dollie is here?” The words scrape at my throat.
This talking, not talking, talking again shit is really playing havoc with my body.
“She’s brought you some clothes so you can leave this evening.”
“Isn’t she a little early?”
“She had an appointment of her own that got moved up. So, she’s gonna come back here and wait for you after that.” Doctor Harrison wearily eyes me as my spine straightens.
“Her appointment got moved up? Is she here by herself?”
“She is.”
“I need to be with her. It’s an important appointment, regarding some kind of lump, and she shouldn’t be alone. I was meant to take her. It was supposed to be on the seventh.”
“She said something about a cancellation,” Dr. Harrison begins. “Anyway, I am okay for you to leave, on the condition that you make up our lost hours over the next week.”
