Changeling

Chapter 4

I returned to consciousness slowly and in an unfamiliar room, unable to open my left eye. A searing pain stretched across my cheek and I reached up with my right hand to explore, finding that my middle, ring, and pinky finger were taped together, giving me more of a crab claw than a hand. Moving the fingers caused an incredible amount of agony but I managed to use my index finger to gently probe my face. I winced as my fingers moved over my swollen cheek that was as round and ripe as a plum.

A window in the room illuminated the space. Near my bedside stood a machine adorned with tubes and blinking lights. Every few minutes it emitted a treacherous beeping sound that was accompanied by the tightening of a cuff on my upper arm. Memories of the fight with Karen started trickling back and I realized I must be in the infirmary. I tried sitting up so that I could get a better look of where I was with my good eye, but I was caught short due to a restraint on my left wrist that was holding me to the bed. My feet were also in restraints. What the hell? My right hand was free. The injuries must not have permitted its restraint.

"Oh Honey, you're awake," said an upbeat voice somewhere in the room. A young woman, who looked only a few years older than me, wearing scrubs covered with little hearts and puppy dogs leaned over my bed. She had her black hair back in a ponytail and a stethoscope looped around her neck.

I pulled against the restraints in frustration and pain shot through my chest inducing a tumult of coughs. I shouldn't have done that.

"Oh, don't do that. You need to relax. You're recovering from some pretty serious injuries Hon." I didn't particularly care for the way she called me Hon.

"Where am I?" said a foreign voice that came out of my mouth.

"You're in the hospital Hon. You were in a fight do you remember that?"

"I do, mostly... Why am I in the hospital and not in the infirmary at the jail?"

"They couldn't fix your punctured lung and fractured ribs at the jail. You needed surgery so you were brought here." A punctured lung? Surgery?

"How long have I been here?"

"You've been in the hospital for four days." Four days! That's impossible I thought.

"Why am I chained to the bed?" I asked. It wasn't like I could run anywhere.

"It's standard procedure," said Marigold as she walked from the hallway into my room. I couldn't see well, but well enough to catch the shared look between her and the nurse. And well enough to see she wore her hair in a tight bun with not a strand out of place. I didn't believe chaining me to the bed was standard procedure. She was lying, or at least not telling the full truth, so I asked again.

"Why am I chained to the bed?" I couldn't remember anything from the last four days, and I feared the worst. Had my crazy been put on full display? Had my nightmares still plagued me in my incapacitated state? Did I talk to the visitors that no one else could see?

The nurse spoke in the gentle tone I recognized from time spent in institutions as a child. It was that tone one used when trying to prevent or quell a psychotic outburst.

"Now, Hon, you have to understand that we are looking out for your health and safety first." That was my answer. That was all I needed to know for certain that my crazy had indeed come out.

"Now that you're awake and lucid, Galpin, a detective will be here to ask you some questions about the incident," said Marigold.

Awake and lucid. Oh God. what did I do? What did I say? I wish I could remember. I was humiliated and concerned that my behavior in the hospital may have set my court date back once again.

"What do they want to know?" I questioned.

"They want to know how the riot started."

"Riot? It was just a fight over food."

"Well, your fight over food turned into a facility wide riot resulting in injury to inmates and staff. Someone has to be held accountable." I felt like she was blaming me for the entire thing. It was Karen, I thought, that horrible beast of a woman Karen.

"It wasn't me. I didn't do anything. I was attacked," I said defensively.

"The detectives will decide that." I knew she didn't care what I had to say. It wasn't her job to care. "They'll be here in the morning to speak to you."

It was then I realized I didn't even know what time it was. I don't even know why I cared. It wasn't as if I was going to be late for a hot date or anything. I guess I just wanted to know how many hours I had until the interrogation began. I instinctively glanced at the wall near the ceiling searching for the red block numbers as if I were in my cell. They weren't there of course. I didn't realize how dependent I had become on that damn clock.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"It's four-thirty Hon," the nurse answered, while she adjusted my pillow and the blood pressure cuff on my left arm. "I'll bring you some dinner in about an hour. But you should rest for now," she said while exchanging a glance with Marigold who gave a nod and returned to her station right outside my door.

"Do you want the tv on? I can put something on if you like. I've got to check on a few other patients, so you'll be here alone for a bit until I bring back dinner."

"Sure," I nodded. Just the slight movement sent a shock tumbling through me and I gasped.

"I can bring you some more pain medication too."

"No, I'm ok, I don't want anymore." I didn't. I needed to maintain control of myself and pain medication took that control away.

"Okay, but it hasn't all worn off yet so you may change your mind."

"I'll be fine," I said.

"Oh, someone must have come by to visit you last night. I wasn't on duty so I'm not sure who it was, but whoever it was left you this." She placed a single daisy on the table by my bedside and smiled widely. "You must have an admirer."

There's only one person who would have left that.

"No, I don't have any admirer." I said glancing at the flower that was certainly left by Ariton. He was my only visitor that ever left any gifts. I think he did it to prove to me he was real. If there was something tangible left behind when he disappeared, then I couldn't deny his existence. Usually, I trashed the gifts so that I could continue to live in repudiation of the truth which literally stared me in the eye on almost a daily basis. The gifts angered me—and this one angered me more because I was completely incapable of reaching it so that I could dispose of it. Time and time again I told him not to leave such things, that such things only served to get me in more trouble while I was in jail. He just didn't understand.

Nurse Puppy Dog Scrubs smiled again, slid the flower closer so I could get a better look at it with my good eye, then put some kind of animal documentary on tv before leaving. I looked at the flower again and sighed. Maybe I shouldn't hate the gifts so much.

Hospital televisions had the worst programming. The documentary was all about crocodiles terrorizing and eating other Serengeti animals who were just looking for a drink of water in the desert. It was horrible and the crocodile reminded me of Karen, so I closed my eyes to rest instead.