Through Glass (The Glass Series Book 1) (16 page)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Every night

I sit up and wonder why

“I’m losing the baby. I’m losing the baby,” Lauren whispers, but she’s alone. She is doubled over in pain and sweat is pouring from her forehead. She hangs her head into the toilet for the third time in less than twenty minutes and vomits furiously.

“She’s been like this for almost twenty-four hours, Doctor,” Shay tells Frederick, just outside of the bathroom door. “I think it’s probably time for her to see a physician.”

Frederick nods in response and heads to his office to submit the request, but not before calling Oliver on his cell phone at home.

“Hey, Oliver. I know you’re off work today, but I wanted to let you know that Lauren is very sick. We’re thinking she may have some sort of bleeding disorder, perhaps in addition to her menstrual period, because it is far heavier than it should be and she’s passing quite a few large clots,” Frederick explains.

“I don’t know, Frederick. I think she’s probably fine. Perhaps she’s just overreacting and making it seem worse than it is?” Oliver asks. “She is good at manipulating people.”

“This isn’t something she can fake, Oliver. This is a lot of blood we’re talking about.”

“I would definitely monitor her for at least another twenty-four hours before getting anyone else involved. I’m certain it’s just a menstrual period, perhaps heavier than normal due to one of her dozen medications acting as an anticoagulant. It’s nothing to be alarmed about,” Oliver assures Frederick.

“I think it’s more than that, and I run this facility. I need to go with my gut feeling because I would hate to be liable if anything happened due to my non-action. She’s not your patient anymore, but I figured I would give you a call out of courtesy. Would you like to be here while the physician evaluates her, Doctor?” Frederick asks. He is stern and straightforward.

“No, Frederick. I think it’s best if I stay away. Maybe this is what is needed for her to focus her thoughts on something else. If her feeling ill is acting as a distraction that may not necessarily be a bad thing. Thanks, though,” Oliver says. Before Frederick has the opportunity to disagree, Oliver has hung up the phone.

Frederick shakes his head. He sends off a quick email requesting that a doctor be sent to evaluate Lauren’s condition as soon as possible. He flags the email as ‘urgent.’

Only minutes later, he receives confirmation that a physician is en route to the facility and should be there within a half hour.

Doctor Frederick Christiansen finds Shay still watching over Lauren in the washroom down the hall from her room.

“How is she?” he asks.

“She’s incoherent—she keeps mumbling, but I can’t make out anything she’s saying. She’s talking so quietly. Then she looks at me as though she expects me to have understood, and when I tell her I don’t understand she becomes very agitated and begins to scream and thrash her arms. I almost had to sedate her again, but I am trying to avoid that due to the constant vomiting,” Shay sighs.

“There’s a physician from Norana General on the way,” Frederick says. He pushes the door open slowly. “Lauren, I’m coming into the washroom to talk to you, okay? Shay is right here, too.”

Lauren is sitting on the cold tile floor, leaning against the wall of the bathroom stall she has spent the last two hours in. She looks weak and disheveled. Her hair is a mess. Her white gown is untied and has fallen down over her left shoulder, leaving it bare and exposed. It is chilly in the bathroom, and she must be cold.

“Let’s go get you a blanket to warm up with,” Shay offers.

Lauren just moans and remains slumped on the bathroom floor.

“Are you done throwing up? We should get you back into bed,” Shay says, softly.

Another moan from Lauren.

“Doctor?” Shay says, glancing at Frederick. Together, they help Lauren up by her waist and lead her down the hallway to her room where she reluctantly curls up in her bed.

“I’m going to have a medical doctor come visit you so we can find out what’s wrong, and we can help you properly, okay?” Frederick asks. “He will be here soon.”

With perfect timing, another man enters into the room.

“Hi, Doctor Christiansen? I’m Doctor Derek Block—I was sent by Norana General Hospital, to evaluate your patient. Is this her?” the tall, blond man asks. He carries a brief case and has a stethoscope hanging around his neck. He looks professional, dressed in his light blue and white striped shirt, beige dress pants, and brown leather shoes. He is clean shaven, and his glasses are frameless ones that make it look like he’s not even wearing any.

Frederick nods. “This is Shay. Shay is the head nurse from another facility but has been here to monitor the patient for the last little while.”

“Hi Shay. What seems to be going on with the patient?” Derek asks.

“For almost twenty-four hours, she’s had severe vaginal hemorrhaging, vomiting, abdominal pain and lethargy,” Frederick explains.

“Okay, we’re going to run some tests. We’ll take blood and a urine analysis, and then we’ll go from there,” Derek says.

Derek is able to draw blood from Lauren without any struggle. She’s too weak to move. Shay spends the next hour coaxing Lauren into urinating in a container so that she can collect a sample. Lauren finally gives in and complies. She walks from her bed over to the toilet area slowly. With every step, it seems as though she may fall. She tries to balance herself above the container, with Shay’s help, and relieves herself. Shay cleans her up and helps her back to bed.

Derek is gone, with a promise that he will have the results within a couple hours.

“Hey, Oliver. Just thought I’d give you an update. Lauren was seen by an attending physician at Norana General. He just went back to the hospital to run the samples he took, and we’ll have some answers in a couple hours. I’ll keep you posted,” Frederick explains in his message to Oliver, and then flips his phone closed. He then turns to Shay and asks her to keep an eye on Lauren while he returns to his office to complete paperwork for today’s events.

It seems he’s lost track of time, because when he looks up, Derek is standing in the doorway of his office. Three hours have already passed.

“Oh, Doctor Block! I’m sorry, I was engrossed in my paperwork. Do you have the results?” Frederick says, standing up to meet Derek at the door.

“I do,” Derek nods.

“What’s wrong with her?” Frederick asks.

“She’s having a miscarriage.”

Frederick repeats the words to himself in his head. Then, he repeats them out loud.

“She’s having a miscarriage?”

“Yes. From what I can tell, judging by her HCG levels, she’s about eight weeks pregnant, and she’s losing the baby,” Derek explains.

“I don’t understand,” Frederick says slowly.

“Neither do I, Doctor Christiansen. Please explain to me how a psychiatric patient would suddenly get pregnant in your care, without any interactions with male patients in this facility?”

“She did not get pregnant while in this facility, Doctor Block. She’s only been here for two weeks,” Frederick explains.

“Oh?”

“She was at the Aldona Psychiatric Center before this.”

“Then I think we need to have a talk with them,” Derek says, coldly. “Whose care was she under?”

“Doctor Oliver Fallon.”

After several attempts to reach him on the phone over the next twelve hours, Frederick finally drives over to Oliver’s office.

“Doctor Fallon hasn’t been to work in almost a week,” the secretary at the office explains.

“Has he been sick?” Frederick asks.

“I don’t know. He hasn’t said. He called in a week ago, and said there was an emergency. He has not been back since. We have a replacement in for the time being, but I’m not sure when Doctor Fallon is planning on returning to work.”

Frederick walks out of the facility, perhaps even more confused than he was when he went in. He reaches into his pocket for his phone and dials Oliver’s number once again. It goes to voicemail.

Frederick sits in his car for a couple moments before making the decision to drive to Oliver’s house. When he arrives, he doubts he will find any answers as to what’s going on, since Oliver’s car is not in the yard.

Still, he knocks at the door anyway.

Tara opens the door.

“Hi, Tara. I’m not sure if you remember me, but I’ve worked closely with Oliver for the last three years and we went to the same University. My name is Frederick Christiansen, from the Malartin Psychiatric Center.”

“I remember you. Is something wrong?” Tara asks, clearly concerned.

“I’m just looking for Oliver. I’ve called him a few times, and I haven’t been able to reach him. Do you know how I can get a hold of him? It’s about one of his clients,” Frederick explains.

“Is it about Lauren? No. I don’t know where he is. You called earlier and I only heard his half of the conversation. She’s ill, isn’t she? He hung up the phone and ran out. That was this morning and I haven’t seen him since. Please tell him to call me if you speak with him,” she says, slowly.

“Sure.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“You know that’s not something I can discuss,” Frederick answers.

“Frederick, please. I know Oliver is a friend of yours and I can hear the tremble in your voice. What is wrong?” Tara begs.

“Tara, I can’t—” Frederick starts, but sees the look in Tara’s eyes and decides to elaborate. “It’s nothing serious. I mean, it is, but it’s not. I just need to talk to him. It just seems as though while Lauren was under Oliver’s care, she was alone with one of the male patients. She’s pregnant.”

“Oh. Wow. I’m sure Oliver didn’t even know anything about it, but I’ll have him call you when I see him.”

Tara closes the door.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

I lived, hoping someone would save me

As I expected, this wasn’t a dream. I wake up to vicious stomach cramps that hurt so bad I’m not sure I would even be able to stand up straight. Oliver’s arms are still around me, and I roll over just enough to see his face. I don’t want to wake him; he just seems so peaceful and I don’t want to see him hurt anymore. I quietly slip out from under him, watching him closely. He stirs, but he does not wake up.

I’ve bled through the huge hospital pad they’d given me and my pants are stained. I slip them down and step to the side, throwing them into the hamper. I change my underwear and put on a fresh pad.

Trying to ignore what is obviously happening inside of me, I put on a pot of coffee. Perhaps the sweet aroma will make me feel relaxed, although I’m so nauseous that I doubt I will actually be able to drink it.

I have no furniture in the living room so I find myself sitting on the floor, in front of a canvas. I crack open a new bottle of green acrylic paint and I hold my paintbrush firmly in my right hand. Then, I let it fall to the floor. I stare at it—at the green splatter mark that sits in front of me on the cheap vinyl tiles.

How could I even think of painting at a time like this?

I sigh.

I’m pouring the freshly brewed coffee into my plain white mug. I turn to find Oliver standing behind me. Without saying anything, his arms are around me. I lean against him, letting him support me as though my knees are going to give out at any second now. He kisses my forehead and I feel like I could just melt in this moment.

“I love you, Lauren,” he says, ever so softly.

“I love you too.” I speak quietly, but the words are incredibly powerful. I think this might possibly be the first time I’ve said this and actually meant it.

“I want to be with you,” he says, squeezing me even harder.

“I do too, Oliver.”

“Please, just let me deal with the things I need to take care of and I promise that I will be all yours. My heart already belongs only to you.”

“You need to talk to her, Oliver,” I urge him. His wife needs to be out of the picture. I realize that they’re in the process of splitting up right now, but I can’t deal with knowing he’s with someone else anymore.

“I know I do. Especially, after this. This should have never happened. It wasn’t fair to her, and it definitely is not fair to you. Not that this would have been a mistake—I mean, it would have been, but it’s a mistake that I’m sure you and I would have both been comfortable accepting—I don’t even really know what I’m trying to say, Laur. What I mean is that I will deal with her, and I’m so sorry that I hurt you like this,” he finally sighs.

“It’s okay. We will get through this, Oliver,” I assure him.

“I know.”