Bad Timing - Jiara (JJ Maybank & Kiara Carrera)

Chapter 6

KIARA

They shone a light emitting from a flashlight in my eyes to check if any part of my brain still works. I wanted them to think that I died, maybe that way they'll leave me alone, but reluctantly, my eyes tracked the lights in a to and fro motion.

Can you squeeze my hand? Their hand felt soft between mine. The top of my fingers shook lightly, which to them was enough that my brain still was functional. I would be surprised if I was them. I've been lying lifelessly on the ground for almost a day.

My lips felt arid. I could still feel Rafe Cameron's hands crushing my neck. I could see his face, but he probably enjoyed it, smirking while I thought I'd be taking my last breaths.

Do you know who you are? Your name? They kept asking questions. I should've replied with simple answers, maybe a nod because I wasn't even sure if my vocal cords were willing to be operative, but my thoughts were intense, and eventually, I nodded my head, yet really I was running the question by my mind. Do I know who I am? Sure, I know my name, but who am I, really?

Do you have any idea where you are? They interrogated me before I had a chance to respond. I shook my head once more. I swung my head to the side to see the tires of a wheelchair approaching me. The people around me lifted me up by my underarms and sat me in the wheelchair.

They were maneuvering my down the narrow halls of the psychiatric unit of the hospital. I was getting stared at by everyone present as they moved aside for my wheelchair to pass through.

They placed me on the bed of my room with the same cautiousness as they did when they picked me up from the floor.

We're hooking you up with IV fluids, is that okay? I nodded my head, proceeding to open my mouth to ask for some water, but my voice only came out as hoarse and breathy, not enough for the nurse to comprehend my words, yet enough to gain her attention.

"Can I have some water?" My voice didn't exceed the limit of a whisper as I attempted to speak again. The nurse picked up a cup from my bedside table, bringing it closer to my mouth so I could take sip using the plastic straw. I would've offended, but uttering a sentence was a fight, and I couldn't get into a discussion about how dangerous pretty little colorful straws are.

You're going to wake up in a few hours, and if you'd like, it's recommended that you attend an individual therapy session with Doctor Salem, okay?

I nodded. Or maybe I didn't, but what I knew for sure, was that I'm going to wake up screaming as I relived the nightmare that was Rafe Cameron while I slept.

What brings you in today?

"I think I haven't slept in three days," I replied to the psychiatrist, and I was not one bit humoring her.

I was moved to a room that I suppose is mine. He sat on a chair a few meters away from the bed I lied in. The bed I chose to lie in was pretty stiff. It had plywood frames and no headboards, with a couple inches of mattress padding. Being isolated within a hospital psychiatric unit was contrary to what I needed. I wasn't in a stable frame of mind, if anything, being here is making my situation worsen, and it hasn't been five minutes yet.

There was another psych patient on the second bed. He looked like he was a lot to handle. Ever since I entered the room, for some reason he couldn't stop wailing until he was sedated.

The psych ward was pretty plain on the inside. Unfortunately, they don't seem to make interior design a priority. The room had no pictures on the walls, and only consisted of two beds and a bedside table beside each. It's easy to understand that it would be a risk to keep any home-like furnishings in the rooms, so it was pretty bare, needless to say.