Chapter 11
366 Words
We arrived at the hospital—our undersized town hospital. Unlike major cities like Chicago, our hospital is only two stories tall and has three ambulances. It was dark grey and looked more like an office building than a hospital. The only thing that made it look like a hospital was the red LED sign, "EMERGENCY."
I was rolled immediately into the back and was given an IV. I was placed in the emergency patient room. My blood was taken, and I had to provide urinalysis as well as a stool sample. I waited a couple of hours until my parents and the doctor arrived.
“Hello, Jean, I am Dr. Emilo Hoffman. How are you feeling?”
I shrugged. “I feel fine. Utterly confused, though.”
He smiled, “I can understand that. Your parents told me what happened. That must have been terrifying!”
“It was. Can I go home now?”
His smile disappeared. “Well, Jean, I want to run more tests. If I find anything strange. I am going to keep you overnight for observation.”
I agreed reluctantly. Then Rachel came in. My parents walked out with the doctor. Rachel seemed less angry than she was when she was in the ambulance. I gave her my friendliest smile. She returned with a weary smile.
“What’s wrong, Rachel?”
“This is all my fault. Max hurt you because of me.”
“Max did whatever he wanted to do. It wasn’t you that made him sleep with Claire. Or dope my drink and throw me in some dude’s apartment.” I said, holding her hand.
“Still, I feel guilty.” She said, staring at our hands.
“I feel fine. But did you happen to see what I was poisoned with?”
Rachel nodded, “Yeah. It was called Barmitol. I recognize it. It is used for sleeping.”
“A micky?!”
She laughed. Max was notorious for using mickies on friends at parties. But something wasn’t adding up. That’s not enough to kill someone. I started thinking the worst. That maybe it was laced with something else, and that’s what is scaring the doctors.
- Writer
