Coffin of Hope

Chapter Eighteen

Mal rushed to the emergency help desk.

"Do you need the emergency?" A nurse asked.

"I need to see Dr. Sanchez. My wife is here." He tried to remain calm. What would he find? He'd checked her room and she really had been gone.

The nurse looked up Dr. Sanchez's patients. "Who's your wife?"

"Marceline Anne Chang."

She found the virtual chart. "Yes. She's in room 18. I'll send Dr. Sanchez there right away." She pressed a button to open the doors that separated the ER from the waiting room, hallways and entrance.

Mal ran through and wandered around trying to find room 18. By the time he found it, a Hispanic man in a white lab coat was coming from the opposite way.

"Are you Mal Chang?" The doctor asked.

"Yes. Are you Dr. Sanchez?"

"Yes. Nice to meet you." Dr. Sanchez offered his hand.

Mal shook it. "What's going on?"

Dr. Sanchez's smile faded. "There was a suicide attempt."

The color drained from Mal's face. "What?"

"Yes. She was trying to jump from an overpass but a group of runners training for a marathon passed by and caught her. She's really lucky but I doubt she'd see it that way. She was determined to kill herself and fought them off.

Impressive considering it was six of them. But they were able to keep her safe until the police arrived. She had to be cuffed and brought here in case of any injuries she may have had.

We gave her a mild sedative but amazingly, it did not work. I was loathe to use more since I didn't know what was in her system but a tox screen showed she was sober so we gave her a heavier dose so we could fully examine her."

"And?" Mal worried.

Dr. Sanchez didn't know how to ask. "How's your marriage?"

"It's fine." Mal burned.

"She has lots of wounds. Old and new."

"New?"

"You knew about the old?"

"She's very active and incredibly accident prone and extremely fragile. She will literally trip over air, fall into a wall and have a black eye for a month."

Dr. Sanchez eyed him to discern if he was telling the truth.

Mal stared back. He was telling the truth. Marcy would probably kill herself on accident before she killed herself on purpose.

Dr. Sanchez nodded. "Then she must have sustained the new bruises during her skirmish. But other than that, I worry about her lungs. They're very weak.

Also she seems malnourished. Is she not eating the right foods?"

"She doesn't eat a lot."

"That's not good for a woman in her condition. She's only three weeks along but she is most definitely pregnant and should be taking care of herself.

She's sleeping now but you can sit with her until she wakes up then take her home. Make sure you follow up with your primary care physician within the week."

Mal could barely hear him over the blood roaring in his ears. "Thank you, doctor."

Dr. Sanchez shook his hand again and walked off.

Mal slipped into the room. Marcy was lying in the bed, asleep, an IV in her arm. He stared at her, rage beating in his blood.

He went to her and lifted her sweater and shirt. She had bruises. He pulled the shirt down and checked her arms. Jagged lines criss-crossed her arms.