Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74225 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
“I’m sorry ma’am, there isn’t anything I can do. He has to stay for a hold...”
I stood my ground. “Without proof that he was trying to harm himself, which you don’t have since your witness was anonymous, then you have no grounds to hold him.”
“She’s right,” said a male police officer who’d just stepped inside the curtained area. “It’s the law. He’s free to go.”
“Fine,” the doctor huffed. He pulled aside the curtain. “But if he ends up dead because you didn’t think he was capable of killing himself, then it’s on you.” He pointed to the officer and shot him a disapproving sneer. “I assume you can take care of his cuff.” The doctor then scribbled on a piece of paper and handed it to me. “Discharge papers,” he mumbled as he left.
“Thank you,” I said, turning to the officer when the doctor was out of earshot, “I really appreciate...”
“You know that’s not really the law, right?” the officer asked. He uncured Preppy’s wrist from the gurney. When he was done he crossed his arms and took a wide stance. He was huge in both presence and stature. The name on his badge read Wiggum. “Close though.”
“I wasn’t a hundred percent sure, but it was worth a try,” I explained. “Preppy hates hospitals and I know for a fact he wouldn’t do what they said he was trying to do.” Suddenly something strange hit me. I looked up to the officer who didn’t look like any of the cops I’d ever seen. Tattoos on his neck and hands. A chiseled jaw, a five o’clock shadow and dark shiny hair peaking out from under his police hat. “But if it isn’t the law then why would you say it was? Why put your job at risk for someone you don’t know?”
“Who said I didn’t know him? Besides, I would be really fucking concerned about my job...” Officer Wiggum turned to me and whispered “If I were really a cop.”
“If you’re not a cop then who are you?” I asked as non police office Wiggum took a syringe out of a pencil case.
“Wait, what are you giving him?” I placed my hand in front of the IV and the needle pricked my skin as he was about to push on the plunger. He growled in annoyance. “I’m just someone who happened to be in the right place at the right time,” he said, grabbing my wrist he tossed it out of his way. I licked the drop of blood from the back of my hand. “And calm your pretty face. I’m just giving him something that will wake him up a bit,” he said, pushing on the plunger. “Whatever fucking horse tranquilizer they gave him when they arrested him was meant to keep him comatose for quite a while.”
“Then how were they supposed to do an evaluation on him? That makes no sense.”
“Something tells me they never planned on any sort of evaluation. Keep your eyes out around here. Shit’s gone a little sideways. Don’t trust anyone. Especially not the cops or even the doctors.” He leaned over Preppy and gave each of his cheeks a couple of short slaps.
Preppy’s eyelids fluttered. He moaned softly and the sound shot straight to my heart. I was so focused on him waking up I didn’t realize that the man in the officer’s uniform had been staring at me. “What?” I asked, feeling uncomfortable under his dark glare.
“You must be Dre,” he said, with no sort of emotion attached to the words.
“How did you know who I am?”
Finally he smiled although it was a small crooked smile. “I know everything,” he stated. He stood and tipped his hat to me on the way out. He glanced at Preppy one final time. “I’ll tell King and Bear he’s going home. Don’t leave his side and when he comes around tell Prep he owes me one. Again.”
I nodded, “I will. Thank you.” Before he could step away I realized something. “Wait! Who do I tell him he owes? Unless Wiggum is really your name?” I asked, pointing to his badge.
He shook his head and grinned.
“Name’s Smoke.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
PREPPY
For a few moments before Dre realized I was awake I watched her. It had been so long since I’d seen her. Like REALLY seen her in the light, yet nothing and everything had changed. Her skin was clear and so were the whites of her eyes. She was a knock out as a strung out junkie but sober made me feel warm and tingly in every part of my body, even the one that had refused to work for weeks. Even though she’s wearing short sleeves she makes the motion like she’s pulling down on her sleeves to cover the scars on her arms which are now barely noticeable. It turned from a habit into a nervous quirk and it’s fucking adorable.