Through Glass (The Glass Series Book 1) (18 page)

Chapter Forty-Four

The words that are spoken and two people agree

“She needs to be in a hospital,” Shay urges Frederick. “She’s in a lot of pain. This bleeding can’t be normal, even for a miscarriage. Get Doctor Block back here.”

“I just called him. He’s tied up with another patient and suggested that we take her to emerg,” Frederick replies, sighing. He watches Lauren through the tiny window on the door to her room. She is curled up on her bed, still vomiting. From where he’s standing, he can see where fresh blood has once again soaked through her pad and her gown.

“I’ll go change her,” Shay offers, and heads into the room.

“Shay?” Frederick stops her.

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to call her an ambulance.”

“That’s probably a good idea,” Shay says, nodding.

Shay is barely done helping Lauren change into new clothes when the paramedics arrive. It had proved to be a daunting task due to Lauren being so lethargic and therefore uncooperative.

The two paramedics, a male and a female, wheel a gurney into the small room. After a few minutes of checking her vitals and trying to see if she could communicate coherently, they lift her onto a gurney and take her out to the vehicle.

Once outside, Lauren looks around intently. This is the first time she has been out of the building in so long. The cold nips at her nose and she can see her breath. Her breathing is shallow and she still feels faint but the brisk air has her feeling much better than she was earlier.

The ambulance ride is rough and she feels as though she’s going to fly right off the stretcher; she most definitely would if she wasn’t tied on so tightly. The female paramedic sits in the back with her and every so often asks her a couple questions, to which she provides one word answers.

The ambulance has its flashing lights on and sirens blaring but a newly licensed seventeen year old driver doesn’t seem to notice. He’s texting his girlfriend and looks up from his phone only long enough to see that the light is green; not to check the intersection for emergency vehicles that have the right of way.

Lauren’s eyes widen as the ambulance slams on its brakes and slides right in front of the oncoming car. The car t-bones the ambulance, slamming into the side of it where Lauren is lying. She hears a loud crash and then there’ is glass everywhere. She braces herself as she and the stretcher are violently thrown to the other side of the vehicle.

The ambulance must be on its side. She hears yelling but she’s not sure if it’ is one of the paramedics or not. The woman in the back doesn’t seem to be moving. After what seems like forever, the back of the ambulance is pried open by men in uniforms.

They must be firemen.

Lauren is pulled from the big metal wreck and laid on the ground outside. There are more flashing lights and people standing all around. She watches as the paramedic from the back is dragged onto the pavement.

“Are you okay?” a paramedic asks. He’s young and seems panicky. His nose is red from the cold and he’s visibly shaking. He covers Lauren with a thick blanket to keep her warm.

“Yes,” Lauren manages. “I’m okay.”

“Okay, I’m just going to check on her. She needs help,” he explains, pointing to the female paramedic.

“Okay.” Still lying on the ground, she’s alone now. All eyes are on the paramedic, almost twenty feet away.

Lauren eases herself out from underneath the blanket, bruised and sore. She slowly brings herself to her feet. She’s shaking but she’s fairly certain she can walk.

She takes a couple steps back, keeping her eyes on the people crowded around the paramedic, who lies limp and lifeless on cold ground and shattered glass.

I wonder if someone loves her
, Lauren thinks.
If she dies, will anyone miss her?

Lauren reaches down and rubs her stomach. She reaches into her panties and then pulls her hand out; she’s still bleeding.

“My baby,” she whispers. She’s still standing, and no one is looking in her direction.

She turns and is able to quickly walk to the corner store behind her. The employee behind the counter looks up at her.

“Hey—” he starts.

She smiles and nods, and walks right past him.

“Washroom,” she mumbles—but she does not stop at the washroom. She disappears through the back emergency exit.

Lauren is out in the real world for the first time in years and it feels amazing. Wincing from the pain in her abdomen, she takes a huge gulp of air.

She needs to clean herself up and find Oliver. They’re supposed to run away together tonight. She cannot stand him up.

Chapter Forty-Five

I want to lose control

I need to fly

“What do you mean ‘an accident’?” Frederick asks, alarmed, as he’s told of the collision by the receptionist at Norana General. “Is everyone okay?”

“A paramedic was pronounced dead at the scene. The other one was taken to the hospital and is in critical condition, but he’s expected to pull through,” she explains.

“The patient?”

“Unknown.”

“Unknown?” Frederick echoes. He blinks and stares out the window of his office. “What do you mean ‘unknown’?”

“She disappeared from the scene.”

“I’m sorry, she what? How in the fuck?”

“I’m not sure, sir. I’m sorry,” the receptionist apologizes.

“For the love of Christ. Are the cops looking for her?” Frederick asks.

“Yes.”

Frederick says nothing more and just hangs up the phone. He turns around to see that the director of the Malartin Psychiatric Center is in his office.

“Is this about Lauren Blue?” Frederick asks. He sighs and wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead with a tissue.

“Yes.”

“They’ll find her, sir,” Frederick assures him. He’s afraid this incident is going to cost him his job, although he’s not at fault.

“That’s not what I’m here about, though I must say this is quite an unfortunate event.”

“What is this about?” Frederick asks. Surely the director cannot yet be aware of the pregnancy. Test results were sent directly to Frederick’s attention and should have been seen by no one other than him.

“Her pregnancy.”

“Here we go,” Frederick mutters under his breath. “Lauren was not granted any alone time with any of the male patients at this facility, sir. Her pregnancy was dated and it seems it’s something that would have had to happen during her stay at Aldona. One of the male patients there must ha—”

“Doctors.”

“Pardon?”

“One of the doctors,” the director repeats.

“I’m not following,” Frederick says.

“I got a call from Tara Fallon, Doctor Christiansen,” the director explains.

“I did pay her a visit, sir. I was looking for Oliver in hopes that he’d be able to shed some light on the situation. We are trying to find out why Lauren Blue was not supervised while spending time with other patients. I mean, I’d like to find out who the father is so I know how to better deal with this situation, but to be honest, I don’t think it really matters—the pregnancy isn’t viable anyway,” Frederick says.

“Mrs. Fallon seems to believe that Doctor Oliver Fallon is the father of this child.”

“No, that’s not possible.”

“That’s what I’d like to believe as well, Doctor Christiansen, but it seems that evidence is proving otherwise. We found numerous holes in the surveillance footage of Lauren Blue at Aldona. We have also found semen residue on the sheets used on Ms. Blue’s bed. Other than two female nurses, Doctor Fallon was the only person with the key to Ms. Blue’s room. Lauren Blue, herself, has even spoken of their affair during recorded sessions with you, Doctor Christiansen.”

“She’s hallucinating.”

“She may be hallucinating, but she has good days and bad. Even on the good days, she insists they were sleeping together and he fathered her child. She’s not always delusional, Doctor Christiansen,” the director says; his voice deep and stern.

“With all due respect, sir, you are not a psychiatrist,” Frederick says. “She is delusional. She hallucinates. She is batshit crazy and beyond help. And now she’s out in the real world. We need to focus on finding her, first and foremost.”

“That’s not my concern, Doctor. That’s yours. I just wanted to give you the heads up; if you speak with Oliver Fallon, you need to tell me immediately; do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Frederick breathes slowly.

“Thank you.”

Chapter Forty-Six

I can’t stand to feel this

Day after day

“Where are we going?” I ask inquisitively.

“I don’t know. Do you have everything you need? I figured we’d just start driving, and stop when we find a place we’d like to stay,” Oliver suggests.

“I guess that works. What about a job? A place to live?”

“We’ll figure all of that out, Lauren. The most important part is that we are going to do it together.”

I nod in agreement. I have been waiting for this for a long time, and I don’t just mean in the months that I’ve known Oliver. I have been waiting for this my whole life; a man who is ready to love me with absolutely everything he has, and promises to take care of me regardless of what happens. A man who swears he will never hurt me or betray my trust; someone I can give myself to completely, from whom I will receive the exact same in return. I thought I had found that twice before but I had been proven wrong. This time it feels infinitely different. This is how true love was supposed to feel.

I glance over at Oliver in the driver’s seat. Even though it is dark, I can see the outline of his jaw and I am reminded of how insanely handsome he is. His hair is perfect, despite not having showered in a couple days.

We are driving fast and the cramping pain in my abdomen reminds me that I am still broken.

“Please don’t drive too fast,” I say. The words come out as a whisper.

“I’ll be careful,” Oliver assures me.

The roads are bad and I wouldn’t want to get into an accident. It’s already very late. In fact, the sun should be gracing us with its presence soon. I am exhausted and I keep falling asleep, only to jerk back awake when there’s a bump in the road or Oliver starts singing along to the radio. Finally, I’m out for good and I get a few solid hours of sleep. When I awake, we are stopped at a gas station. It seems like it’s the middle of nowhere—I see no other buildings around, only highway.

“Where are we?” I ask.

“Some small town,” Oliver answers. “May I get you something, my dear?”

I shake my head. I’m still not feeling well and can’t even stomach the idea of eating or drinking. He hops out of the car to pump the gas. I drift in and out of sleep for a couple minutes before he comes back and starts the car.

We are off once again.

“How long have we been driving?” I ask.

“Two hours.”

“How much longer? Have you decided where we’re going yet? I’m exhausted and I’d really like to sleep in an actual bed,” I tell him.

“We can stop here if you’d like,” he offers as we pull into another tiny town. I am too exhausted to answer so I nod and hope he sees me even though his eyes are on the road. I’m staring out the window and the sun is shining brightly. This place looks decent, but it’s tiny. It seems like it would be the perfect place to raise a child. I wouldn’t want to raise a child in a city. I love cities, but only because I’m an artist and it’s the only place I feel I could really make a name for myself and sell my work to regular customers. It’s great for meeting people and networking, but I wouldn’t want my child to grow up around kids who are bad influences, and around drugs. I’d actually love to move back to where I grew up, but I don’t want to be in the same town as my grandma’s now-empty house. I would sit on the steps all the time, reminiscing about when she was alive and allowed me to eat peanut butter—my favorite—straight out of the jar with a spoon.

I feel as though I need to stop thinking about her or I may start to cry. I snap out of it and I notice that Oliver is pulling into the parking lot of a small motel. It can’t possibly have more than six rooms. It looks quiet—but it also looks like a shack. He checks us in, and we head inside. It’s actually quite cozy, despite the ‘70s wallpaper and furniture.

We strip out of our clothes—the same clothes we’ve both been wearing for over twenty-four hours, and we crawl into bed. It is our first night together alone—just the two of us.

I cannot sleep.

Thoughts of our new life together invade my mind. I wonder how long it’ll be until he proposes. I bet we’ll find jobs and he’ll do it as soon as he saves up enough for a ring. I don’t even know what kind of ring I want. I was thinking I’d probably just want a simple band, because I do work with my hands a lot when painting, but now I’m not so sure. I may actually want a giant princess cut diamond on a stunning fourteen karat gold setting with smaller, but equally as brilliant, diamonds down the side.

Our wedding will be a small one. I’m certain that not a lot of his family will actually attend due to it being so soon after his divorce from Tara.

Even just thinking her name in my head makes me cringe.

I have no family to invite, and not a lot of friends. Perhaps Shay, if we can get over the fact that she ratted us out to Tara—though that was probably in our best interest, because it got the ball rolling on us being together. Probably not Frederick. Frederick and I didn’t exactly part ways on good terms, though. In fact, I’m not even sure he knows we’ve actually parted ways for good—I never told him I was leaving with Oliver. I’m sure he probably still thinks he’s going to bump into me from time to time.

I’m glad I didn’t actually date him. He didn’t seem all that stable. The way he just showed up, and began to try and pick me up right away—it was weird. I’m sure he was hiding something. I definitely felt as though he had secrets. He probably had a family back home: a wife, and kid—not that something like that would have deterred me, had I really wanted him—I mean, look at Oliver and I.

I can’t wait to have kids. Oliver and I are going to be excellent parents. They will never need to know that they have step siblings either—Oliver’s past is behind him now and it’s not something we will ever bring up again. We all have our mistakes and it’s time to move on and start our own family. Perhaps we’ll have a boy first, and then we’ll try again for a little girl. One of each. It’ll be the perfect family. The older boy will protect and watch over his little sister. He’ll walk her to school and make sure that no one bullies her. She’ll be a daddy’s girl. The way she’ll smile at him—it will melt my heart. He already melts my heart.

His arms are tight around me and I can’t imagine this moment being any more perfect than it already is.

Another car pulls into the driveway of the motel; I can see the lights shining through the curtains of our room. The car door slams, and then silence.

I lie in Oliver’s arms and he twitches in his sleep. It startles me but I smile when I realize he must be dreaming of making love to me.

There is a knock at the door.

I jump from the bed, and Oliver does the same.

“What was that?” he asks, panicked.

“Someone knocked at the door.” My heart is pounding and I’m out of breath. I must have been falling asleep, for it to have scared me this much.

Oliver slips into his pants and opens the door.

My heart sinks when I see Tara standing in the doorway. She looks past Oliver and we make eye contact. I can imagine the fact that I am wearing only panties probably angers her a great deal.

“What are you doing here?” Oliver yells.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, Oliver.”

“How did you find us?” he asks.

“The credit card company. They called to confirm this out-of-area transaction was legitimate. I can’t believe you.”

“Why did you come?” he asks. He is raising his voice. He’s upset, and upset-Oliver is not a pretty sight.

“You’re coming home with me. The kids are asking about you. I am not explaining this shit, so get your stuff and let’s fucking go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he states.

“Get your stuff.”

“Get out of here.”

I butt in, though it’s probably none of my business. “I think you need to leave, Tara.”

“I think you need to shut the fuck up, you stupid home-wrecking whore,” Tara snarls.

Without thinking, I push by Oliver and begin hitting her. She is yelling and covering her face.

“Tara, just leave!” Oliver yells. He’s trying to hold me back but my foot still reaches her shin and I kick her.

She pulls back and glares at me. I look down and notice blood dripping down my leg.

“Disgusting,” Tara mutters. “Need a tampon?”

“No,” I reply, wincing in pain.

“Nice time to start your period, you dirty slut.”

“It’s not my period. It’s the baby,” I whisper.

“What?”

“Lauren, don’t,” Oliver begs.

“Don’t what? Don’t tell her about the pregnancy?” I ask loudly.

The look on Tara’s face is priceless as she realizes her husband is the one whose child I’m carrying.

“She’s pregnant?” Tara laughs, staring at Oliver.

“She’s having a miscarriage,” Oliver replies.

“You’re fucking kidding me. This is hilarious. What happened? Did you do some crack, you crack whore? Did someone push you down a flight of stairs? I’d love to shake their hand,” she spits the words right at me. “You’re disgusting and dirty. Thank god you’re miscarrying; that poor child would have had a sad excuse for a mother, and probably a string of STDs.”

I break free from Oliver’s arms and lunge at Tara. I am at her throat, squeezing with all of my strength. Her eyes roll back inside her head and Oliver fights to pull me off of her. I step back, releasing her from my grip.

“That’s enough,” Oliver pleads.

I nod.

He lets me go, and turns to walk back into the room we were peacefully sharing until this witch showed up.

“Whore,” Tara whispers. She’s kneeling on the ground, holding her throat.

I grab a knife from Oliver’s nightstand and I am at her again. The cold metal pierces the skin of her stomach, leaving her curled up in a bloody heap on the floor.

“Lauren!” Oliver calls out.

I’m out in the parking lot, wearing only my panties. I’m running towards the vehicle and Oliver is chasing after me.

“Lauren,” he breathes, when he finally catches up. I can see his breath. I want to taste his lips.

“Sorry, Oliver, I had to do it. We don’t need to worry about her interfering in our life anymore,” I explain.

“Lauren, you killed her! This is bad. We need to turn ourselves in.”

“Are you kidding? They’re going to arrest me.”

“We can say it was self-defense, Lauren. We need to call the police. And an ambulance. Maybe she’s still alive,” he begs.

“It wasn’t self-defense. I had a weapon; she did not. We aren’t calling the police. We aren’t calling an ambulance. Get in the car. Let’s go,” I demand.

Oliver takes his phone from his pocket. With hands trembling, he begins to dial.

“What are you doing?” I scream.

“Calling an ambulance. We need to get her help.”

“We are doing no such thing!” I yell. I’m certain my face is bright red. I am angry, naked and cold. “Get in the car.”

“Hi, operator—” Oliver is on the phone.

I knock the phone from his hand and it shatters on the ground.

“Get the fuck in the car!” I yell. I realize I’m still holding the knife in my hand. I am pointing it at him, and he steps back. “Get in the car, Oliver.”

He obeys, slowly climbing into the driver’s seat. He starts the car and sits for a minute, just staring at me.

“Drive,” I command.

“Okay.”

I look back at the motel. It looks quiet and desolate. I doubt anyone will notice Tara for several hours, giving us plenty of time to get a head start. Soon we’ll be far away from all of this, able to forget this ever happened.

The highway feels lonely. There’s nothing but trees and a few tiny towns; none of which I’d actually like to live in. Especially now, after what happened with Tara—they’d be looking for us.

Right on cue, I begin to see flashing lights up ahead and I squirm in my seat.

“What’s going on?” I ask Oliver.

“Probably just an accident or something.”

“You didn’t actually dial the number for the police, did you?” I ask. Oliver’s long pause doesn’t leave me feeling very confident about this situation.

“No,” Oliver replies quietly.

“Turn the car around, Oliver.”

“That will look suspicious. It must be an accident.”

“Turn the car around.”

“I’m not turning the car around,” Oliver says, raising his voice this time.

“Goddammit, Oliver,” I whisper.

The road is blocked off and Oliver slows the car to a crawl. He stops it completely just feet away from officers with their guns drawn, and he reaches for the door handle.

“You’re going to regret this, Oliver.”

“I’m so sorry, but Tara—” he whimpers. His words trail off as though he’s not sure what to say.