Chapter 4 - The Emergency Room Lights
The smell of antiseptic and the rhythmic, rhythmic beep of medical monitors dragged me back from the void.
My eyes fluttered open, but everything was a blinding wash of white fluorescent light. My chest felt heavy, weighed down by thick, heated blankets that crackled with warm air blowing through internal tubes. Clear plastic lines were taped to the backs of both my hands, cold fluids burning as they dripped into my veins. When I tried to draw a breath, the plastic prongs of an oxygen cannula tickled my nostrils, and my throat felt raw, like I had swallowed broken glass.
“Emily? Can you hear me, sweetheart?”
The voice wasn’t Karen’s, and it certainly wasn't Dad’s. It was a kind, tired voice belonging to a middle-aged nurse in patterned scrubs who was leaning over the metal bed rail. She had warm, crinkling eyes behind silver-framed glasses and was gently checking the pulse ox monitor clamped to my index finger.
I tried to speak, but only a dry rasp came out.
“Don’t try to talk just yet,” the nurse said gently, placing a warm, dry hand over mine. “You’re at Memorial Hospital. My name is Brenda. You had us terrified for a couple of hours, young lady. You were so cold when they wheeled you in, our monitors couldn’t even read your surface temperature.”
Memories flooded back in a sudden, violent surge—the sound of Dad’s deadbolt, Karen’s smug smile through the window, the endless dark gravel road, the feeling of falling into the freezing ditch. My heart monitor began to beep with erratic, frantic speed.
“Hey, hey, easy,” Brenda murmured, adjusting the blanket around my neck. “You’re safe now. Nobody is putting you back out in that weather. The doctors gave you warm IV fluids and put you in a Bair Hugger blanket. You’re stable. Your core temperature is back up to ninety-seven degrees.”
A heavy knock sounded against the half-open door of the ICU cubicle.
A tall man in a navy uniform with gold county sheriff patches stepped into the room. He took off his wet brimmed hat, revealing close-cropped grey hair and sharp, assessing blue eyes. Under his arm, he carried a damp, clear evidence bag containing my faded purple Jansport backpack.
“Evening, Brenda. How’s our patient doing?” the deputy asked in a low rumble.
“She just woke up, Deputy Daniels,” Brenda replied, stepping back slightly but keeping a protective hand near my arm. “Be gentle with her. She’s been through hell tonight.”
Deputy Daniels pulled up a hard plastic chair and sat down beside the bed. His face was stern, but his eyes softened as he looked down at me. “Hi, Emily. I’m Deputy Daniels. I’m the one who coordinated with the EMS crew that picked you up off Route 9.”
Tears welled in my eyes, spilling hot and fast down my cold cheeks. “I’m sorry,” I croaked out, my voice cracking. “I didn’t do it. I swear I didn’t do it.”
Daniels raised a hand, stopping me. “You don’t have anything to apologize for, kid. Take a breath.” He placed the clear evidence bag on the small rolling table beside my bed. Inside, my wet algebra textbook and scattered notebook pages were clearly visible. “Your father told me quite a story over the phone. He said you were a runaway addict who got caught with narcotics tonight and stormed out of the house in defiance.”
“That’s not true!” I cried, ignoring the sharp stab of pain in my throat. “Karen said she found drugs in my bag. I told Dad to look! I told him to check! He wouldn’t even open the zipper. He just shoved me out the door!”
Deputy Daniels leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “We know, Emily. When the paramedics brought you in, protocol required us to log your personal effects. We inventoried every single item in this bag. We didn't find any narcotics, residue, or paraphernalia. What we did find, however, was something your father and your sister didn’t expect.”
May you like
I stared at him, bewildered. “What?”
“We found a receipt,” Daniels said quietly. “Tucked into the very bottom lining of your bag, under a layer of old receipts and candy wrappers. And it’s going to make a whole lot of people answer some very uncomfortable questions.”
