As I Fade (One Breath at a Time: Book 1) (12 page)

The doctor paced at the end of my bed then opened his mouth to speak but hesitated.

“Is there something wrong?” I asked.

“
No, I would not say wrong. I was just wondering if he said anything to you?”

“
Uh...you mean the man I saw...that no one else did?” I asked facetiously, smacking myself in the forehead for affect.

“
Yes. Are you sure he is not a friend of yours, or...maybe someone that might be looking for you?” he asked probingly. His wrinkles deepened at the outer corners of his eyes.

“
No—why? What is the big deal? I’m really confused. One minute you said no one saw him. Now, you think he’s a friend of mine, and even if he was—but he’s not—wouldn’t he have to check in at the nurse’s station before visiting me? If so, well, then evidently, he sneaked into the ward somehow—or maybe I imagined him. I don’t know—I’m just a patient here. Why all the questions? I kind of wish I never mentioned him.” I inhaled a deep breath of air, pumping oxygen to my brain.

I felt extremely uneasy about all of the contradictions that were flying around. He had just finished reassuring me that no one had entered the ward, and I accepted that, why didn’t he? Then he bombarded me with a thousand questions. I smelled a rat. It was time to play dumb—a diversion had mastered and used when necessary.

I could tell by the shrewd mien on the doctor’s face he felt challenged. “Miss Eden, I just thought he was—”

“
No,” I belted out. “Besides, he didn’t say anything at all, remember he doesn’t exist,” I sarcastically replied.

What the hell!

At that point, I felt it was best not to elaborate on what the man in question had said. I am not sure why I felt this way, but I did. The hospital and the doctor’s demeanor were raising the hairs on the back of my nape.

The intruder seemed particularly concerned for someone he was visiting. I actually wished I had not fainted, and then I would have known more. Perhaps the man needed my help, or he was trying to send me some kind of message.

“Well, I understand your frustration, but we have a strict visitor’s policy to uphold, Miss Eden, we like to keep track of who is going in and out of here, and we strongly disapprove of random visitors wandering the halls, disturbing other patients. Some of them are worse off than you. If this man was a visitor of yours, he needs to be approved first,” he chided, raising his brow. I did not appreciate his accusations, or his chastising tone.

“
I understand that. But, I don’t know him. Remember, I’m the one who told you about him.” I tightened my lips. I could feel an upward pull in my chin, quivering. This involuntarily happens when I would get pissed, or if I am being wrongfully accused of something.

“
Okay, that is settled then. Maybe, he was someone that entered your room by accident. No harm done. You certainly seem to be feeling better”—
ticked off more like it, and he knew it
—“I’m going to order a few more tests. In the interim, why don’t you try to relax? Let me just finish here and I will leave, so you can take a nap.” He patted me on the shoulder and jotted down a few more notes.

The sound of a woman screaming at the top of her lungs caught my attention. Her cries were muffled and far away, but close enough to hear that she was hysterical.

“Oh my God, shouldn’t you check on her?” My eyes widened as the horrific screams grew closer.

The doctor’s eyes flicked from me toward the door. It was as if he had anticipated what was to come next, or more like
who
was to come.

Suddenly, the door swung open. A heavy-set, brute of a nurse entered. What caught my eye first was her pitch-black hair pulled up into a severe bun. It was so tight and slicked back; it resembled a sheet of molded plastic instead of hair.
Move over Cruella de Vil!
I would not want to go head to head combat with this nurse. Her shoulders, breasts, and ass filled the doorframe and her muscles flexed beneath her garments. The woman looked like a dude in a dress. She was panting, hard.

“
Doctor, come quick,” she said in a deep husky voice, doing her best to tame her panic in my presence.

“
Right away, Selena.” The doctor practically ran from my room.

Unknown time

Nuilley Lambert skipped up the ragged front steps of the brownstone where Brielle resided. She pressed the designated number on the intercom keypad that matched with Brielle’s apartment address. She wasn’t sure how the old antiquated intercom system worked. So she held the button down, bent at the waist and talked into the rusty speaker as if it were a walkie-talkie. Usually when she visited, Brielle waited for her on the front stoop to let her in, which explained her lack of knowledge regarding the intercom.

“
Hello? Brie, can you hear me?” There was no reply perhaps that wasn’t how the intercom worked. So she hit the buzzer, consecutively three times in a row. She turned to scan the street, eyeing it back and forth, watching out for Brielle in case she wasn’t home, but on her way.

As she waited impatiently for a reply, she fished her cell phone from her purse. At the top of her “favorite list”, she tapped Brielle’s contact number and pressed the send button. Surprisingly, it never rang, but went straight to voicemail. Nuilley was beginning to think that Brielle was ignoring her calls.

“Hello you reached Brielle Eden, at the tone please leave me a message, and I’ll call you back.”

“
Brie, are you home?” Nuilley paused. “Are you okay? I’ve been trying to reach you for several days now. Did you survive the little storm we had?” She laughed nervously then broke down and asked, “Are you mad at me for not coming over? Why aren’t you returning my messages? I really wish you would, I’m getting a bit worried, Princess.”

Frustration grew in Nuilley. She wasn’t happy with Brielle’s lack of common courtesy to answer the fucking phone. Brielle had never treated her with such disrespect in all the years they had known each other, Even when they’d argued. They were like sisters, and would battle it out rather than flat-out ignoring each other.

Before hanging up, Nuilley decided to wait for the automated prompt to come on. If Brielle was going to behave shitty, Nuilley figured she’d one up her and take away Brielle’s chance to screen her calls. As she listened to the prompts, she paused when advised by the automated voice, and hit number 4 to erase her previous message. She felt that she shouldn’t have to beg Brielle to call her back. Nuilley couldn’t believe Brielle would hold a grudge against her, for not coming by the night of the storm.

Before leaving she decided to make one more attempt to find Brielle. She made her way down the steps and followed the stepping-stones to the side of the brownstone to see if Brielle was in the courtyard. Sometimes Brielle would sit out there with her laptop.

The brownstone property was a flower lover’s haven and smelled heavenly. Large rosemary bushes, with needle like leaves, lined the pathway. The tiny white flowers emanated the scent of mint. Nuilley deeply inhaled the highly fragrant aroma. Growing plentifully on all four-sides of the brownstone were Gourdon purple wildflowers that cascaded down the walls.

When Nuilley reached the back yard, there was no sign of Brielle. She turned to leave; she spotted a perfect rose in full bloom. She glanced around her shoulder before pinching it off. She smelled it first then stuck it in between a swath of hair, balancing the stem on the top of her free ear.

“A rose for a perfect rose,” she said aloud. “Ouch! Damn it!” she yanked the rose from her hair and threw it on the ground. “Fucking thorns.”

Suddenly, Nuilley felt a powerful wind whip around the corner of the brownstone.

“Part rose, part thorn,” a man with a deep husky voice whispered.

Nuilley didn’t fear too much. “What? Are you kidding me?” Still, goose bumps spread over her from head to toe, and with that she put a hop in her step and headed straight toward the main street out front and put a hastily pace between her and the brownstone.

-8-

Parchment Paper

I continued to ponder the situation about the mystery man who stood in my doorway. Maybe, I could stand this place if he returned to my room. I wouldn’t mind if he reappeared wearing nothing but a stethoscope. What was it about him, other than his mesmerizing sex appeal, that caught my attention, and why couldn’t I purge him from my mind?

Who was he? Then it occurred to me: maybe he didn’t stumble into my room by chance at all. Perhaps he was trying to warn me. The thought of it caused me to shudder.

Suddenly, I had a propensity to find out who the intruder was. I loved any kind of mystery. Plus, it had always been my nature to over-think the reality of situations and to stir things up.

Something didn’t feel right about this place, something did not resonate well with me, one bit. The mysterious intruder and what he said confirmed it. It was time to turn the tables and ask a few questions of my own.

By the time the doctor had returned, I had been served dinner by the domineering nurse. I devoured most of my meal within five minutes. In the interim, I reread the poem several times that he had given me earlier, wracking my brain for clues to his identity.

There wasn’t much else to do, besides counting the tiles on the ceiling and watching time go by on the industrial looking clock that hung upon the wall. The sound of the hands ticking began to feel like Chinese torture.
Tick-tock-tick-tock!
Fuck! It was riding my nerves. In no time, I had become pretty restless, despite my injuries.

“
Miss Eden...I heard you had a nice dinner?”

“
Yes...it was pretty good.” I offered a soft smile. It was noon and I had already eaten dinner. What else was I going to do with the rest of the day? I had to get out of here. This place was worse than torture. I was bored out of my mind, and startled every time I heard the girl in the room next to mine, seething venom, at whom I assumed was at the nurse.

The doctor sported a friendlier smile this time around. Perhaps he’d had a better lunch than mine. “I am bearing gifts. Here are a few books I thought you may enjoy...sorry, they are written in French, but the scenic pictures are nice.” He placed the books down on the side table.

I would take anything at this point. I had never been one to sit still in one place for very long. A restless soul stirred within me.

“
Thanks, I appreciate it,” I said, paused then added, “Doctor, is there something you’re not telling me?”

“
Such as?”

I bit my bottom lip, twisting them into a pucker then asked, “Did that man commit a crime? Are the police looking for him, or something?”

“The man?”

“
Yes, you know—the one that snuck into the hospital.”

“
No, not...that I know of,” the doctor nonchalantly replied. His eyes fixed downward as he checked my blood pressure, which I thought was typically a nurse’s job instead.

“
Hmm, okay. It’s just you seemed pretty worried about him and all—I thought maybe he had attacked that woman, whom I heard screaming earlier.”

“
Shh, just a minute.” I could tell he was counting out the beats of my pulse.

“
Okay, but if that man attacked someone, I think I have the right to know,” I spurted out quickly.

The doctor wrapped up his stethoscope and looked at me intently. I had never liked it when someone intently stared at me.

“Miss Eden, I’m going to level with you. I want you to know I do not think ill of you, but you kept mumbling Hitler’s name in your sleep...and well, this raises questions of concern.”

Buzzing nervously between my words, I replied, “Huh? What does that have to do with anything? I’m not sure why I’d dream about Hitler, but...” My tone sounded as if I was guilty of something, but who would blame me; the doctor treated me as if I had committed a crime. I cleared my throat. “Other than...I studied about him—you know it was required in school, and I did my thesis on his life in college.”

Why am I explaining this to you?

“
I see. Did you attend a college for girls?” he asked, rubbing his chin, nodding.

“
No, it wasn’t a girls’ school,” I said, followed by a short-laugh. He was the most curious doctor I’d ever met.

The doctor’s expression grew serious. “What kind of college would give courses”—he shook his head in bewilderment—“Who would want to study the behaviors of a man such as Hitler?” he said, raising his pitch. He seemed quite put off.

I answered in a harsh tenor, “Uh...the kind that wants their students to learn from what he did.”

Hello? What’s with the inquisition?

“This could change things here for you. I will have to report this to the authorities. If you are glorifying the actions of this man we—”

I interrupted rudely. “What the hell are you talking about?” I could feel my face flushing red-hot. “I don’t glorify him. Nobody I know supports anything
Hitler
did—why are you asking me this? My gosh! My grandmother was married to a Jewish man, although she didn’t practice Judaism—and, neither do I, but still...wha—what’s the big deal?” I snapped, raising my voice as loud as I could, which was just above normal. However, judging by my tone, he was clearly displeased with me.