In The Blood

A Realization

(Casey)

Sleep. Sleep. Kevin was going on and on about, of all things, sleep. I didn't care about sleep. My body was physically exhausted, but my mind spun on. Did he seriously expect me to sleep? If he thought I could, he was sadly mistaken. I could see it now: me laying down somewhere, dark quiet room or bright and noisy room; it didn't matter. There was no way in hell my mind would settle enough to rest. I would need heavy duty narcotics to knock me out. Or else, an awake, conscious, laughing, happy Tim. Which seemed to have ceased to exist as soon as Jenika had started her shit. I knew she'd hurt him deeply, with her lying bitchy mouth, and then there was the police fiasco. I had no idea what had happened to him in there, or who had done or said what, but I was certain he was mistreated. By the cops, the other inmates, by someone. I was as sure of it as I was my own name. Anger flashed within me as I thought of it, as I pictured my brother, raw at a woman's betrayal, beat down again within the confines of a building sworn to protect innocent people. They'd failed him. I didn't care if no one had physically raised a hand to him; if nothing else, words can cut deeper than a blow ever could. And a hell of a lot harder to forget and forgive. Someone within the police station broke him. He may never tell me, just electing to not pursue legal avenues for fear of repercussions or reliving painful memories. I could encourage him and do my best to prove I am forever a safe space for him but I can't force him to divulge a damn thing to me. Whatever happened was trapped within his mind. Maybe jailer Janna could prove she was worth something and help Tim enough to be able to deal with it sufficiently so he could look into legalities. Even Elliott, who I'd texted earlier during the great ICU ballroom dance, admitted he didn't know of any abuses. He'd said the arresting officers were hard ass and were difficult with him but he had not seen or heard any physical or verbal assaults. I started poking around on the internet, trying to track backwards. Nashville, Tennessee. South precinct. I found the chief of police and made note of his name. He could be a resource. Now to find which of these officers had arrested Tim. I pressed on a link and about jumped a foot when the phone came to life with a ring. Shit, had I called the police station by accident? Shit, I didn't mean—my gut wanted to end call as fast as I could, but my brain stopped me. It'd be a crime to just hang up. Just tell 'em it was an accident. Oh—I whispered to myself what a dumbass I was being when I realized someone was calling me.

I stood up to take the incoming call, still grumbling to myself. "Hello?"

"May I speak to a Casey Foust?" the voice on the other end began without preamble.

"Speaking," I self-identified, starting to step aside for some semblance of privacy. The grey-haired middle aged woman three seats over was looking at me a little too hard.

"This is Tasha. I am the nurse with Dr. Novotney's office," she stated. "I have—"

"Who?" I leaned against the wall. "Dr. Who?"

"My mistake. Dr. Who's office," she corrected, confusing me even more.

"What?" I demanded, angling my body away from a group of people just congregating in the hallway.

"No, who," Tasha repeated. "This is Tasha with Dr. Who's office."

Dr. Who who? Starting to wonder if this was a crank call and I its unwitting target, I said, "I do not know a Dr. Who. You either have a wrong number or are trying to crank call me."

"Dr. Yen Wu? Are you not the brother of a psych patient at Cedars-Sinai?" she pressed.

Oh—Tim! Dr.—um, what was Janna's last name again? "Ah, yes, yes, I am. He was with Janna."

"Dr. Janna Novotney," Tasha clarified, something moving around on her end. "My apologies. We have several doctors in office, one of which is a Dr. Yen Wu."