Chapter 3
"You ever get a hold of Abby?" Susan asked, walking into Curtain 1.
"What?" Carter said, distracted.
"I said did you ever get a hold of Abby," Susan repeated.
"Um...no, not yet." Carter said.
"Have you heard anything from her?" Susan pressed.
"Well..." he really didn't want to tell Susan this, but she was Abby's friend, "I went over to her house and the chain was on but she wouldn't let me in."
"Oh! So she's okay." Susan was relieved, and didn't understand why Carter still looked so worried.
"Not necessarily."
Susan was confused. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked.
Carter sighed. Was he going to have to spell it out for her? "I went to her house at 5 AM and she wasn't there. Now why in the world would she be getting home after five and going to bed?"
"Oh," Susan said, the truth dawning, "You think she-"
"Yeah," Carter interrupted.
"What are you going to do?"
"I guess ask her about it when she gets in."
Just then, Haleh walked into the room. "I thought you were off today," Susan said.
Haleh rolled her eyes. "I WAS, until Weaver made me come in and work for Abby. She must think that none of us have a life outside of Cook County General!"
Carter suddenly realized what Haleh had said. "Wait a minute, Abby isn't coming in?" he asked, looking worried.
Haleh nodded. "Weaver said she took today and tomorrow off. SOMEBODY'S gotta work that time."
Carter shook his head. He didn't want to believe it, but it appeared that his worst fears were true. Abby had started drinking again. Why else would she be taking sick days? She was fine 12 hours ago.
Susan looked at Carter. "What are you going to do?" she asked him.
With a determined look on his face, he said, "I'm going over to her apartment, and I'm gonna get some answers."
_____________________________________________________________________________
Abby was awakened by the pain in her side. She opened her eyes and realized that she was still laying on the floor in her bloody clothes. She didn't want to get up, but she couldn't stay here forever, could she?
Then again, maybe she could. She would just slowly cease to exist. And she would never have to move her painful body again.
But Abby realized that that wasn't going to happen, so she tried to get up off the floor. Twice. It didn't work. Her limbs had stiffened, and every time she tried to move them, her bruised stomach cried out in protest.
So she laid there on the floor. For hours. She slept intermittently, but was usually awakened by her pain. She considered trying to get some aspirin from the medicine cabinet, but that probably wasn't strong enough anyway. So she just dealt with it.
Many hours later, (she wasn't sure how many,) she heard another knock at the door, and she knew who it was.
Sure enough: "Abby, it's John. Are you in there? Are you okay?"
Abby winced at his last statement. Why was he worried about her? She didn't deserve his worry.
His insistent banging continued, and Abby closed her eyes, waiting for him to go away. She knew she was being cruel by letting him worry and not saying anything, but right now she didn't want to have to try and explain to him what had happened. So she just ignored him.
She wasn't mad at him, she was just frustrated with the whole situation. It seemed so stupid and unfair that she had gotten mugged the ONE time she went out at night, so she just decided to pretend it had never happened, and maybe it would go away. Telling Carter definitely would not make it go away. It wasn't very logical, but Abby wasn't thinking very logically at the moment.
"Abby? Please say something. I just wanna know if you're okay," said Carter, standing outside the door. It had been ten hours since his last visit, so he knew she could not still be sleeping. But yet she was still here, hiding behind the chained door. Carter knew that something was terribly wrong, and he wasn't leaving until he found out what it was.
He banged on the door again. "Abby! Let me in. I want to talk to you." He surveyed the small patch of the apartment visible through the two-inch gap the chain made. He saw no sign of Abby, or any bottles or wineglasses. He also couldn't smell any alcohol, but she might be drinking vodka.
He pressed his ears to the door, and heard a gasp. It was quiet, but it was definitely a person. And who could it be but Abby?
Inside the apartment, Abby cursed herself for her lack of self-control. But the pain had hit so suddenly, it was all she could do to stifle her cries to a gasp. But Carter had heard it.
"Abby?" His voice was urgent now. "Are you okay? Can you hear me?" Abby prayed that he would just go away and leave her alone.
Then suddenly, it got quiet out there. It was a scary kind of quiet, and Abby wondered what he was doing out there. In a quiet voice he said, "I'm about to break down the door. If you're in there, then tell me to stop."
Abby hadn't even considered that he might just force his way into her apartment. The chains were quite flimsy, and one good shove would probably be enough to break it. Abby couldn't let that happen. But before she could decide what to do, a wave of pain engulfed her body, and she cried out before she could stop herself.
Carter heard the cry, and knew it was Abby. "I'm coming!" he said, putting his shoulder to the door and preparing to shove.
"NO! Don't! Don't come in!"
Carter stopped at the sound of her voice. She was okay! he thought happily. Then he got mad. Why hadn't she opened the door? Did she enjoy sitting there listening to him beg?
"Abby? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Abby lied, gritting her teeth against the brutal pain. What she wouldn't give for some Morphine right now.
"Open the door!" Carter yelled, anxious to verify for himself that she was, indeed, alright.
"I'm fine. You can go now," Abby said, aware of how cold her words sounded. She wasn't trying to be mean; really, what she was trying to do was keep herself from crying.
Carter stared at the door, because he couldn't stare at Abby. He couldn't believe her! She just sat there and listened to him beg for her to open the door, and when she finally says something, it's to tell him to leave!
"So why didn't you open the door? Today or last night? And why didn't you return my calls? And why did you take two sick days from work?" He waited impatiently for her to reply. She did not. After several seconds, he said, "Abby?" She still didn't respond.
He considered breaking down the door, but what was the point? She had made it quite clear that she wanted him out of her business. Carter had no idea why; she seemed perfectly happy last night at County. But now she was dismissing him like a servant boy. He had established that she was alive; maybe it was time for him to go home.
With slow, heavy steps, Carter walked back down the stairs to Abby's apartment.
"You ever get a hold of Abby?" Susan asked, walking into Curtain 1.
"What?" Carter said, distracted.
"I said did you ever get a hold of Abby," Susan repeated.
"Um...no, not yet." Carter said.
"Have you heard anything from her?" Susan pressed.
"Well..." he really didn't want to tell Susan this, but she was Abby's friend, "I went over to her house and the chain was on but she wouldn't let me in."
"Oh! So she's okay." Susan was relieved, and didn't understand why Carter still looked so worried.
"Not necessarily."
Susan was confused. "What's that supposed to mean?" she asked.
Carter sighed. Was he going to have to spell it out for her? "I went to her house at 5 AM and she wasn't there. Now why in the world would she be getting home after five and going to bed?"
"Oh," Susan said, the truth dawning, "You think she-"
"Yeah," Carter interrupted.
"What are you going to do?"
"I guess ask her about it when she gets in."
Just then, Haleh walked into the room. "I thought you were off today," Susan said.
Haleh rolled her eyes. "I WAS, until Weaver made me come in and work for Abby. She must think that none of us have a life outside of Cook County General!"
Carter suddenly realized what Haleh had said. "Wait a minute, Abby isn't coming in?" he asked, looking worried.
Haleh nodded. "Weaver said she took today and tomorrow off. SOMEBODY'S gotta work that time."
Carter shook his head. He didn't want to believe it, but it appeared that his worst fears were true. Abby had started drinking again. Why else would she be taking sick days? She was fine 12 hours ago.
Susan looked at Carter. "What are you going to do?" she asked him.
With a determined look on his face, he said, "I'm going over to her apartment, and I'm gonna get some answers."
_____________________________________________________________________________
Abby was awakened by the pain in her side. She opened her eyes and realized that she was still laying on the floor in her bloody clothes. She didn't want to get up, but she couldn't stay here forever, could she?
Then again, maybe she could. She would just slowly cease to exist. And she would never have to move her painful body again.
But Abby realized that that wasn't going to happen, so she tried to get up off the floor. Twice. It didn't work. Her limbs had stiffened, and every time she tried to move them, her bruised stomach cried out in protest.
So she laid there on the floor. For hours. She slept intermittently, but was usually awakened by her pain. She considered trying to get some aspirin from the medicine cabinet, but that probably wasn't strong enough anyway. So she just dealt with it.
Many hours later, (she wasn't sure how many,) she heard another knock at the door, and she knew who it was.
Sure enough: "Abby, it's John. Are you in there? Are you okay?"
Abby winced at his last statement. Why was he worried about her? She didn't deserve his worry.
His insistent banging continued, and Abby closed her eyes, waiting for him to go away. She knew she was being cruel by letting him worry and not saying anything, but right now she didn't want to have to try and explain to him what had happened. So she just ignored him.
She wasn't mad at him, she was just frustrated with the whole situation. It seemed so stupid and unfair that she had gotten mugged the ONE time she went out at night, so she just decided to pretend it had never happened, and maybe it would go away. Telling Carter definitely would not make it go away. It wasn't very logical, but Abby wasn't thinking very logically at the moment.
"Abby? Please say something. I just wanna know if you're okay," said Carter, standing outside the door. It had been ten hours since his last visit, so he knew she could not still be sleeping. But yet she was still here, hiding behind the chained door. Carter knew that something was terribly wrong, and he wasn't leaving until he found out what it was.
He banged on the door again. "Abby! Let me in. I want to talk to you." He surveyed the small patch of the apartment visible through the two-inch gap the chain made. He saw no sign of Abby, or any bottles or wineglasses. He also couldn't smell any alcohol, but she might be drinking vodka.
He pressed his ears to the door, and heard a gasp. It was quiet, but it was definitely a person. And who could it be but Abby?
Inside the apartment, Abby cursed herself for her lack of self-control. But the pain had hit so suddenly, it was all she could do to stifle her cries to a gasp. But Carter had heard it.
"Abby?" His voice was urgent now. "Are you okay? Can you hear me?" Abby prayed that he would just go away and leave her alone.
Then suddenly, it got quiet out there. It was a scary kind of quiet, and Abby wondered what he was doing out there. In a quiet voice he said, "I'm about to break down the door. If you're in there, then tell me to stop."
Abby hadn't even considered that he might just force his way into her apartment. The chains were quite flimsy, and one good shove would probably be enough to break it. Abby couldn't let that happen. But before she could decide what to do, a wave of pain engulfed her body, and she cried out before she could stop herself.
Carter heard the cry, and knew it was Abby. "I'm coming!" he said, putting his shoulder to the door and preparing to shove.
"NO! Don't! Don't come in!"
Carter stopped at the sound of her voice. She was okay! he thought happily. Then he got mad. Why hadn't she opened the door? Did she enjoy sitting there listening to him beg?
"Abby? Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Abby lied, gritting her teeth against the brutal pain. What she wouldn't give for some Morphine right now.
"Open the door!" Carter yelled, anxious to verify for himself that she was, indeed, alright.
"I'm fine. You can go now," Abby said, aware of how cold her words sounded. She wasn't trying to be mean; really, what she was trying to do was keep herself from crying.
Carter stared at the door, because he couldn't stare at Abby. He couldn't believe her! She just sat there and listened to him beg for her to open the door, and when she finally says something, it's to tell him to leave!
"So why didn't you open the door? Today or last night? And why didn't you return my calls? And why did you take two sick days from work?" He waited impatiently for her to reply. She did not. After several seconds, he said, "Abby?" She still didn't respond.
He considered breaking down the door, but what was the point? She had made it quite clear that she wanted him out of her business. Carter had no idea why; she seemed perfectly happy last night at County. But now she was dismissing him like a servant boy. He had established that she was alive; maybe it was time for him to go home.
With slow, heavy steps, Carter walked back down the stairs to Abby's apartment.
