On the Edge of Wakefulness, Part 2
Chapter 30
Brandy, with Paulie behind her, slowly opened the door to her place and found it lit only by the kitchen light and her small bed table lamp, the way she'd left the apartment originally. As she stepped inside, her eyes immediately focused on Todd's favorite places to dose up: her bed, the kitchen, the floor beneath the window.
Couldn't see the bathroom from where she stood; didn't want to see it. Didn't want to see his jacket on the floor or his shirt either.
What did hit her, though, was how quiet, how peaceful, her tiny refuge was. Brandy almost wished to lie down on her bed to take in the delicious air of calm. She once again glanced around for Todd and, still not seeing him, said nervously with a tinge of hope, "Mo', he ain't here ... no ... he ain't here."
"Yeah, like that's a surprise," Paulie retorted, lighting a cigarette while hanging back at the door.
"Maybe we ought'a check the alley out your window, check the sidewalks ... see where he fuckin' landed."
"You don't know nothin' 'bout nothin'." But she knew the truth of where Todd was ... she just didn't want to turn around to see him, couldn't do it.
Paulie remained in the doorway, puffing away, turning around to look up and down the hall. Looking out for prying eyes and cops. He felt antsy, been feeling that way since learning the cops were seriously on his tail. In fact, only last week he noticed a cop following him, speeding up when Paulie did, turning when Paulie did, stopping when Paulie did. The cop, though, didn't pull him over and only because of Paulie's tactical driving did the cop get lost. So he kept low, choosing not to sell "h" to Todd the way he had been, choosing not to sell to any of his regulars. Let them all hang with Toby, he decided, let Toby deal specifically with Todd's forays into breathless escapism. Sighing and puffing, shaking his head in judgment, Paulie stared into the depressing hallway and watched a cockroach race towards the stairwell.
Inside the apartment, Brandy was aware of time clicking and knew she had no choice. Her baby, her Todd, would be needing her, he would be wanting her to remind him to breathe ... so she finally turned, finally checked that one last place where he liked to shoot up.
And there she saw him: unconscious, lying in a heap on the cold floor, crumpled like something long forgotten, something that had been thrown away because it no longer served any purpose to any one.
You forgot that we mean something to each other ... when I am caught by you ... and you are caught by me ... we mean something in this world. You forgot ... you forgot me, left me behind ...
"Mo'...," Brandy murmured, carefully making her way over to Todd, knowing, just knowing. Calmly, she dropped to her knees and caressed his shoulder, finding it cool. "Come on, baby ... come on," she said delicately.
He said nothing in response, didn't move. She tugged at his body which was mostly on its side, grabbing him by an arm and from under his neck. Pulled ... pulled some more. She kept saying, "Baby," kept calling him in a voice that could barely be heard. After some silent struggle, Brandy was able to get him onto his back and then listened for his breathing by putting her head down on his bare chest. She could feel his heart beating, slowly, but couldn't hear any breaths. He had dried pink saliva in his beard, and his lips… were not the usual color. She wanted to stay pressed against his chest, hearing his heart beating, fingers rubbing his face... but she didn't.
Sitting up, she saw the needle still in his forearm and removed it, pressing the injection site for a couple of seconds to make sure it wouldn't bleed. Habit. She dazedly looked at the empty barrel of the needle and then tossed it aside.
"Todd ... baby ... come on. You don't wanna go to no hospital ... come on," she cooed, listening a second time to his chest. She then put his head back like she'd seen on the television. She pressed her hands on his chest, pressed hard. Like in the movies. Breathed into his mouth, too. Listened. Breathed again. Listened. Pressed again. "Mo'...," she called somewhat louder, when there wasn't much to hear. Brandy blinked back some emotion, some pain inching up her chest. It left quickly, though. Hearing a strange hum inside of her, she breathed softly. Everything around her ... seemed pretend.
I was s'posed to go with you, I was s'posed to go first at your hands, baby. Your hands ... only yours. Remember? I told you ... I told you.
"What the hell are you—" Paulie said as he came to the bathroom, quickly reacting to the site of Brandy kneeling next to Todd, about to breathe for him again. "FUCK! Get the hell out of the way!"
As if sedated, she stood and walked out of the bathroom, past Paulie. She felt like she was sleepwalking, kept thinking her real twin wasn't home yet. Thought for a second that maybe this wasn't Todd, maybe he was still at Toby's or ... at Grayson's. Grayson, no ... wait. She turned back around to watch, remembering that something had happened at Grayson's place, something terrible. She hoped Paulie knew how to wake Todd up because she was supposed to be on that floor next to him, already dead ... waiting for him. That's what he wanted, that's what she needed.
"Should I call the amb'lance?" she asked, her voice sounding far away to her.
But Paulie wasn't even touching Todd, much less answering; all he did was clean up, wiped the counter down, wiped the works into their bag, dope wrappers, syringe, latex tubing, cotton balls, the little cap for the water and powder. He threw the bag at Brandy, and it fell to the floor. She left it at her feet. She looked at it, but thought nothing; heard water running, but couldn't figure out where it was coming from.
"NO. we are not calling an ambulance. We'll take him in my car, can't have no cops 'round here. Drop him off ... God ... you stupid asshole! Didn't I tell you to take it easy?! Damn it! You gonna end up back in the 'sylum. Or dead. FUCK!"
Brandy didn't feel the tears running down her face as she now saw Paulie take cold water from the sink and splash it on Todd's face. When he got nothing, he slapped him on the face, a few times, yelling, "MANNING! COME ON!" Then he did what Brandy did, bent and listened for a heartbeat. "Oh Jesus, Jesus…" With a fist, he hit Todd hard in the chest, once, twice, and then he screamed, "FUCK! You stupid FUCK!"
Todd just stayed still, just the same.
Brandy could hear panic in Paulie's shouts and hits and she shuddered, but again, she didn't feel anything. Everything was far from her, like she was floating, like when things happened to her that she didn't like or that hurt more than she could handle. She looked at her hands ... touched her cheeks and felt that foreign wetness.
Baby ... baby ... you can't leave me here ... you can't do that ... you're my brother, I'm your sister. I'm somebody special to you. I stir that mad in you, that hurt, 'cause I mean something. Whose insides will I stir if you die, baby? Who will I mean something to ... then?
Paulie then took a breath and heaved Todd up over his shoulder, not without difficulty. "He's so fuckin' heavy," he grumbled, "Oh motherfucker… oh Jesus…" With a grunt he stood up and walked out of the bathroom. "Grab my keys outta my pocket, open the fuckin' car door when we get there," he ordered impatiently as he stepped out into the hall.
But Brandy just stood there ... her eyes focused on Todd's jacket. Paulie screamed, "BRANDY! COME ON! MOVE!"
She turned around and picked up the jacket, saying, "He ain't got no shirt ... he needs somethin'..."
Brandy followed with the jacket held tightly in her hands, moving down the hall, caught in the wave of Paulie's stride and his aggravated grumbling. Like she'd been told, she did catch up to him to get at his car keys but slowed down again to look at them, to feel their weight and their coldness. Paulie bellowed at her, startling her, "What the hell is the matter with you?"
"Nothin' ..."
"SHIT!" Paulie struggled down the steps, one at a time, having to rest every so often to adjust Todd's body. "You haven't been the same, Brandy," he panted. "Ever since he come to you, you been cold to me ... what happened to us, huh? I wanted to MARRY you..."
Brandy was quietly following, not really hearing Paulie.
"What the fuck does this guy do to you? What the FUCK?! You ain't never gonna see him again, got me? He's gonna be locked up —or dead—and that'll be it ... that'll be fuckin' it. And you're coming to Cali with me and that's the end of the story ..." Paulie continued to growl similar sentiments all the way out the front door.
Brandy said nothing, her eyes stuck on Todd's arms hanging down Paulie's back. They swung a little with each step; his hair fell down, too, shifting, back and forth ... back ... and forth.
"BRANDY!"
She jumped a little and opened the car door like she was told. Paulie shoved Todd onto the back seat and Brandy crawled in right after. Squeezed herself next to him, seating herself on the floor of the old BMW. She kept listening for his breathing, but still couldn't tell anything. As they pulled away into the night of Llanview, she put her mouth onto his again and tried to breathe for him. Tried to do it. It was so hard to do in the car with the jostling about, with the turns, with the awkward positioning. She looked down at his body on the bench, thinking he looked dead. Just wearing his jeans and boots. He was unshaven, too, his hair a mess, his skin broken out from the drugs. In the dark of the car, his lips, his fingernails, they were like a blue.
"Can't be true," she murmured. "Can't be dead, baby, you can't have forgotten about me."
She kissed his chest, laying her head on him so she could see his face with her arm draped over him. "This ain't no good for you," she whispered numbly. "You gotta look nice for your wife 'cause she loves you so much. You gotta look pretty ... 'cause you're my pretty thing ... you smile at me like you mean it ... you cry with me ... you listen to me ... you breathe when I remind you to. Oh baby ... you ain't doin' it now ... why ain't you doin' it now? Why ... ain't you doin' it now?"
Paulie kept glancing back, not wanting Todd to die in his car, hearing Brandy talking to herself.
"Has that asshole stopped breathing?!" he demanded, "He better not have!"
"Mo'," was all she could say, her tone emotionless.
"Aww shit! Shit, shit ... shit ..." The car sped up.
Brandy would breathe for Todd every so often, trying to get air inside of him, not sure if she was doing anything. She'd been able to do it before, puffing air at this face ...reminding him to breathe ... but nothing seemed to be working. Stopping her efforts, she simply stared at him and fought the sensation of lifting up out of herself. It kept happening over and over ... a gentle rise of her mind like that of a soap bubble coming up out of a violent rush of water hitting a bath. A vanilla soap bubble ... floating away ... away from the crash ...
Breathe ... just a little, baby. Breathe for me, breathe for yourself. We'll do it right next time - I'll go first ... I'll wait for you. For you ...
She kept breathing into his mouth, pushing air into him as much as she could. Even if it wasn't working. They soon came to a screeching halt at the emergency section of Llanview Hospital and Paulie jumped out of the car, jerking open the back door. By Todd's legs, he pulled him roughly across the seat, Todd's arms dragging behind him, Brandy touching him as he passed her. Paulie grabbed him up in his arms and dragged him out of the car. Then he dumped him on the ground. He grabbed at Brandy, then, pulling her out of the car by her arm, "Get in the front! Let's go!"
She yanked herself though out of his grip with surprising strength, though her voice remained impassive. "We ain't gonna make sure they got him?"
"They'll see him...come ON!"
"No ... you go ... I'll wait," she said as she kneeled down to Todd, her brother-whore, her sibling alley cat. The doors to the emergency room opened as staff had noticed the fuss. "Hey, baby ... we're here now ... someone's gonna help you now," she whispered, putting her head down again to his chest, leaving it there, closing her eyes.
Are you breathing? You can't let go, baby. You did it wrong ... it was me who was s'pose to go first ... it was me.
"God damn it," Paulie groaned as he hopped back into the car. "Don't come cryin' to me if they arrest you." The tires screeched as he pulled away, looking in the rear-view mirror. Hoping his client would survive, not really hoping. Hoping Brandy would be all right, not convinced she would be.
Brandy saw someone come out, take one look at Todd on the ground and turn right back around. Seconds later there were four people picking Todd up and placing him onto a stretcher; rolling it inside. Brandy sadly and slowly followed them, watching the strangers move him into an examining room. She stayed right behind him. Orbited the working group of people. Someone said he was breathing, but "having extreme difficulty."
Extreme ... difficulty? He ain't breathin' at all. Way pas' difficulty. The people's voices sounded funny to her. She could hear the words, see them even, yet couldn't understand them. Like bubbles floating all over the place ... popping out of mouths, blip ... bloop ... ba-lip ... ba-loop ... bup. Meaningless.
She watched a person in a colorful shirt strap an oxygen mask to Todd, stick other things on him. They were searching for a vein, she could tell because she acted the same way, running fingers up and down his arms, pinching skin here and there, a big syringe up in the air in the hand of a nurse person. Finally, they stuck the needle near his wrist. Pulled blood. There was so much fussing over Todd now, she couldn't see much of him anymore.
A nurse walked up to her. "What's his name, sweetie?" The nurse tilted her head because Brandy was looking at her nose, at the tip of her nose. She was quiet. Kept her eyes on the nurse's nose, a freckle there. Right at the tip.
"Hello? You okay, hon?" Blip ... bloop. "Sweetie, what's his name?"
The words finally popped into her head. She rubbed her hair back, trying to see her baby. "Todd," she murmured, "His name is Todd." Chewing on her fingernails, she gripped his jacket tight in her hands. The nurse with the freckle walked away.
Someone yelled his name to get him to wake. Talked loudly some more. Asked him questions as if he would answer. He didn't respond to anything. She heard his name over and over.
Todd! Todd! Todd!
"I don't think he's breathing," Brandy said softly.
The freckled nose came back. Asked, "Do you know if he's on any medication? Do you know of any reason he'd be unconscious? Did he fall?"
Brandy stared at the woman's nose and then watched her walk away after a little bit.
Someone said, "Good try but he's tracked - it's an overdose, probably an opioid."
"I found him like this," Brandy said aloud. Except nobody seemed to be paying attention to her now and she kept thinking Todd was already dead only nobody was doing anything. Treating him like he was alive. He wasn't breathing, she thought.
Am I nothing to you, now? Is that it? Maybe that's it. Maybe I don't mean nothing no more to you. You left me ... you left me here.
Someone said firmly, "Need to intubate him, respiration isn't improving."
Distress ... distress ... Brandy said to herself. A bunch of commands were tossed around and the people did things to her baby on the table. Someone was cutting his jeans away, pulling off his boots. She heard, "Blood, where's it coming from?" Another pulled off black socks and said, "Wouldn't have been able to get a vein here either." She could see the bad bruising on his ankles and she was sorry she couldn't do a better job at getting the dope into him.
Someone then said in a sharp voice, "Whoa ... we got something else here."
"Good Lord," someone else commented.
"Is that… a bite?"
"Yeah. Human."
The words didn't register with Brandy. She watched as one of the doctors worked some kind of plastic tubing into Todd's mouth. A doctor was describing what he was doing to a youngish person, explaining that the breathing tube went into the patient's trachea and allowed oxygen to be, "forced into a patient." Like she was trying to do. Pushing air into him.
After some struggle by the youngish doctor to get the tube right, after some commentary by another doctor, Brandy then heard, "Ok...ok...we got it." A machine kicked on. After a few moments, someone else said, "O-2 levels are going up. Good job..."
Someone else then said, "You sure it's an opioid? He isn't responding to the Narcan."
"I knew he wasn't breathing…," Brandy said, tears dropping down her cheeks. She couldn't see Todd though through all the people now ... couldn't see her baby.
Is that a bite?
Paper fell to the floor, yellow drifting down. Saw people drift away. And then she saw Todd's body ... a sheet loosely covering his private area. No clothes anymore. This she understood. Where'd they go? Then her eyes caught onto a nurse folding his jeans even though they were cut. She was looking at something, something tied to a loop on his jeans ... a string ... the nurse pulled the something out of his jeans. Studied it. And Brandy saw it sparkle in the light, saw the forever shininess. The nurse smiled a sad kinda smile at it, glancing a moment at silent still Todd, looking all the way sad now. Brandy recognized that thick gold wedding ring. He had tied it to his clothes so no one would steal it off his hand at the shooting gallery.
"You so funny, baby ... you so funny," Brandy said to herself. "You jus' lucky nobody found it." Then she thought about things and said, "Guess they were too busy with other parts a'you." That hurt and she wished as deep as she could have wished that they had never met Toby.
The nurse then cut the string and put his ring into a small manilla envelope. Marked the envelope. Put everything into a large plastic bag.
Then Brandy heard someone say, "Hey ... do you know what he's been taking?" The question was directed at her she realized. "Do you know what he shoots up?"
It took a while for her to know what to say, for words to get to her mouth because she remembered Todd's doctor saying it was bad that she got the heroin, that maybe all that peacefulness would lead to bad trouble. So all that came out was…
"I don't know nothin' 'bout nothin'."
"Maybe it's pills," that young voice across the room suggested, rattling off some complicated sounding names.
An authoritative voice responded, "Of course. But that'll be a side show to the main stage. Look here, here, there. Fresh puncture marks. We're looking at heroin — all the markings are typical, symptoms typical. On top of that, this is like the sixth OD tonight. Actually, we've had problems all week with contaminated heroin. Blood analysis will tell us for sure."
Bad heroin. She heard that. The stuff Grayson or Phillip gave him. Brandy felt sick. This was her fault. She put that idea away. Felt numb again.
A nurse came up to her, asking, "Honey, did you find any ... syringes or anything? Any powder substances or rocks?"
Brandy shook her head after a moment and the nurse then took her hand, "Hon'? What's your name?"
"Don't know nothin' 'bout nothin'."
The nurse nodded, "Why don't you come with me, you can sit down. He's going to be all right. We see this lots ... we're giving him some medication and he'll be up and around in no time."
Brandy started at the nurse, looking for the freckle. The nurse rubbed Brandy's hand in hers. "Come on," she urged gently.
"I can't leave him. He needs me to breathe, you know. I found him. I pushed air into him all the way here. Other times I just tell him to breathe and he does. If I leave, he might forget. But ... then ... I ain't sure he's listening to me no more."
The nurse glanced at Todd a moment. "You most likely saved his life. Mouth-to-mouth…you gave him enough to get him here."
Brandy rubbed her mouth and wiped falling tears she couldn't feel.
"But you see that tube? That machine? It's doing the breathing for him, doing what you were doing. So he'll be fine if you step away. Ok? And look, you're still nearby."
The nurse pointed to a bench right across from the examining room, in the hallway. "This way if we have some questions, we know right where to find you. Is that all right?"
Brandy stared at nothing a moment or two, turning without saying anything. Went into the hallway. Sat down and crossed her legs. Pulled at her skirt and hugged Todd's jacket to her. Said to no one, said in a soft tone to the sterile white air around her, "I was s'pose to go first, baby. I was."
Maybe I don't mean much anymore. Brandy ... Brandy ... Brandy Night ... gonna get swallowed up ... gonna get chewed up and spit out ... night ... night …
Tim stretched out his arms and leaned back against his chair in his office with his hands behind his head, checking the clock before closing his eyes. It had been such a long day; too many patients, not enough time. Medical research hadn't conquered the amazing power of the mentally ill mind. It was fascinating to the scientist nature of a doctor, to the observer, but to the human being with no professional distance, well ... Tim only had to think of Jonathan, and Todd.
"Damn it," he mumbled, rubbing his forehead where Todd had head-butted him when he'd taken off from the hospital that last time; the bruise had faded but he still felt it. It's like a scarlet letter, he bitterly joked with Shane Lansing, his partner.
With a muted groan, he remembered walking Sixteenth Street after Todd had run, remembered checking on Brandy the next day. The apartment had been unlocked. When he went inside, it was clean. Like, cleaned out. When he looked out over the fire escape, he realized the trash below was all her things, the things that had made her impoverished apartment special. All those things had been thrown into the alley. Tim's heart had broken at seeing what losing Todd had meant to that poor woman; it was profound how attached they had become to one another. Two lost souls clinging to one another in the hopes of some kind of salvation.
Todd had used that word over and over. Salvation. Said it in the hospital right before he ran. Heroin saved him. He shook his head at the corrupted logic of mental illness.
Tim stared at an angel figurine sitting directly in front of him on his desk, one he'd taken from amongst Brandy's rejected belongings. The rest of her "pretty things" were back at his place ... being saved for her. Shane wasn't crazy about it, but what could he do? They even fought a little at some point, Shane getting pretty damn jealous which almost made Tim laugh.
"You sure you're not in love with him? He's gotten in deep, Graham! Maybe he was more successful at seducing you than you say."
"You're the only love in my life. This is… something else. I promise you."
"Tell me, love, please...help me understand. "
Yeah, something else for sure. Strange, inexplicable… just every so often, someone got to him.
Tim leaned forward and touched the cool angel. It was unusual because it was made of pure black onyx, all black but for two yellow-stoned eyes; the eyes were like bits of the sun amidst black ashes. So ... the angel served as another reminder to Tim ... only this time it was of hope, never to give up, never to stop believing in miracles, in ... a true salvation.
Before long, Tim was dozing, lost in thoughts of the darkness of the inner city, wondering what his own salvation was ... when suddenly his cell buzzed.
Hospital emergency room.
"I'm done for the day," he snipped at the nurse, even though he never considered himself off-duty.
"Dr. Graham, I'm sorry to bother you, but a patient of yours has just been admitted to emergency with drug overdose symptoms ... name's Todd Manning?"
Tim froze for a second, bolted awake, "You're sure."
"Yes, Dr. Wolek just gave a positive ID. The patient is not conscious. Brought in by a young woman who might need attention, too, specifically from someone in psych'."
Tim was quiet a moment too long.
"Doctor?"
"Um .. yeah ... on my way... of course, I'm sorry ... long day."
Hanging up quickly, Tim gathered up Todd's file which he'd kept around his office, just in case. He thought to call Téa. But then, decided he would evaluate first. Nothing to report yet.
He did call Shane Lansing because he was the only doctor he trusted with Todd. "Hey, sweetheart, can you get to Emergency?"
He then took the angel figurine and popped it into his pocket. Sounded like Brandy had brought Todd in.
With the file in his hand, Tim headed to the indicated examination room of the emergency ward. He hoped Wolek was wrong, but as soon as he spotted Brandy, his hope disintegrated. He ground his teeth and let out a soft groan.
She, and no question it was she, was sitting on the bench against the wall, staring vacantly ahead of her, a certain emptiness in her eyes, typical of someone experiencing a degree of dissociation. He slowed his pace and then stopped to study her a few seconds longer, but soon put Todd's file down and kneeled directly in front of her, "Hi, Brandy. You remember me?"
Her eyes slowly moved to his and she touched his cheek. "Superman," she whispered. "With the curls."
Tim smiled, "Yup... that's what Todd calls me sometimes, and yeah ... lots of curls."
She didn't smile back; her eyes remained transfixed on his hair. "He ain't breathin' no more."
Swallowing hard, for a moment Tim thought perhaps he was too late. He looked into the examining room and with relief, saw Wolek and two other staff members huddled around a patient. He couldn't see his face but the monitors were active and there was an operating ventilator. He assumed it was Todd and he was still hanging on.
Turning back to Brandy, he asked gently, "Did you bring Todd in tonight?"
"Something bad happened to my baby ... he was so scared."
"What happened? Can you tell me?"
She shook her head after a long while of silence, pulling her jacket closed, tight. "Superman," she sighed. "I found him ... and he wasn't breathin' no more."
Before Tim could get more information from Brandy, Larry Wolek cleared his throat and called to Tim. "Dr. Graham, this IS your patient, right?"
He got up, taking a last glance at the dark, sad eyes of Brandy hanging onto him, picking up the file. He said gently to Brandy, "Don't go anywhere, ok?"
Then, after walking slowly to the bed, Tim saw it was Todd, no question. He sighed, noting the complete helplessness and all the damage he'd done to himself. Only a sheet covered his midsection. He slipped the sheet down a little and saw new burns and he covered them back up.
"God…damn it," he cursed to himself before turning Dr. Wolek. "Yeah ... he's still my patient."
He found he had to look away for a second to get his bearings. Really, the burns bothered him? Yes, the burns. Because they were there at the beginning and they were still there. Because all these wounds were too revealing of Tim. Every needle mark, every bruise, every scrape where he scratched himself raw, every cigarette burn, was like seeing every dirty little secret of Tim's splattered across Todd's body, mainly Tim's failure as a physician. This connection was what Shane had a hard time with. But Tim couldn't help that straight line from A to Z. He took this personally.
Tim instinctively placed his hand on Todd's arm and stared at the monitors to avoid the accusation in the injuries.
"He was brought in about an hour ago," Dr. Wolek said, "presenting with heroin overdose symptoms, including deep unconsciousness and severe respiratory distress. He's not responding to the Narcan, typical of overdoses that are being attributed to—"
"Heroin laced with a designer drug," Tim interrupted, finishing the analysis. "There's a strain of heroin being distributed right now that's cut with some homemade garbage — makes a single dose of heroin equal to ten. Makes the patients resistant to usual treatment."
Dr. Wolek nodded and added gently, "He has alcohol in his system, too. And ... there's some remarkable physical damage." A heavy look fell over Dr. Wolek. "We need to do a rape kit."
Silently taking in the comment by Larry, Tim kept his eyes on the respiration monitor. After a moment, he inched his gaze back to Todd who was so deeply entrenched within his form of escape. Tim wished he was screaming about Satan now, even THAT way. Better than silence, better than fucking death.
"Remarkable physical damage?" Tim finally mumbled, still distracting himself while gritting his teeth. A nurse then moved aside the sheet, exposing Todd's hip while trying to keep him modest. She then gently adjusted his leg, modesty lost, so she could remove a temporary bit of gauze from his upper thigh. When the doctor saw what Larry had been referring to, he let out a strained breath, "Jesus… Christ. Yeah, we need a rape kit."
He looked at his patient's colorless face, seeing if there was any indication there of the details of what had happened. All there was, however, was that godforsaken peacefulness that comes with drugged restraint. One thing for sure was that whatever had happened, had been violent and purposeful. The bite had cut deeply into him, bruising him severely. He had bled profusely. It would have hurt like hell.
As the nurse carefully replaced the gauze, Tim said softly, "Some kinda punishment, huh, kiddo?"
After some time, the emergency room doctor was putting on gloves and instructing the nurse to roll Todd onto his side, but Tim objected, putting his hand out the doctor, "No, no ... only Dr. Lansing on this ... don't touch him ... just wait. If Todd comes around ... I want him ... I want the doctor to be someone he knows ..."
The resident nodded his head, "No problem. Just wanting to do the kit while he's out, that's all. Need me to call Lansing?"
"Already did."
Tim walked out of the examining room and sat tiredly next to Brandy who was smoothing out Todd's jacket on her lap. She turned slowly to Tim, and he flashed a sad smile and taking her hand in his. "How're you feeling, Brandy? You okay?"
She didn't respond right away, but when she did, it was somewhat dreamy. "I was s'posed to go first, you know."
"Yeah? Did you and Todd make a deal about that? A plan?"
She whispered, "It's ... jus' the way it is. He don't go ... without me."
Tim then nodded to her in understanding, realizing Brandy was at serious risk for ending her own life. If she sensed Todd dying ... she might leave and ... well ... bottom line was that he had to separate her away from Todd, away from any kind of doomed prognosis. Otherwise, the psychiatrist might have two dead people on his resume.
How to separate them ... was a challenge.
Tim mentally started analyzing some options, a task that for some might be a delicious psychological puzzle, but today, for him, it just felt like a painful tangle of souls. Todd wasn't alone as a patient anymore; he had come back with his "sister," someone equally as ill, equally as damaged; someone who might play a role in his recovery, and vice-versa. But they were also each others' potential cause for sabotage. A tangle ... indeed.
"Brandy, can you tell me what happened to Todd tonight? Were you with him?"
She looked down at Tim's hands and then glanced back up at him, seeming to be slightly more grounded. "You won't tell nobody? 'Cause he might not want nobody to know."
"I understand. If I need to tell someone else, I'll ask you first, if Todd can't talk for himself."
Brandy was just about to talk, her lips parting slightly, when Dr. Lansing walked up to Tim. She promptly shut her mouth and hugged Todd's jacket.
With a slight grunt, Tim got up and pulled him aside. Explained the situation. Right before entering the examining room however, Shane reminded Tim gently, "This isn't your fault, love. We're only human, not God."
"Yeah ... yeah ... I know." The two held each other's gaze a few needed moments. Tim knew in those words that his partner finally got it, the A to Z. Shane smiled empathetically, giving Tim a warm squeeze of his shoulder, and stepped away.
Tim looked back at Brandy, who seemed to be drifting again. She said nothing when Tim moved close to her, when he kneeled in front of her. "Brandy, look at me. I have something for you."
She did, slowly.
Tim pulled out the angel figurine from his pocket and put it into her hand, one that wasn't grasping Todd's jacket like it was a lifeline. "This belongs to you," he said.
She held it and studied it and soon smiled a little.
"My angel."
"Yes, you had it on your night table. She's very beautiful. I saved her for you. Just in case."
Brandy looked at Tim and said softly, "Todd ... my baby ... we understand each other."
"I know you do."
"I ain't no angel ... Todd ... he ain't one either. We ... the same."
Tim swallowed hard. "How much the same, Brandy?"
She looked at Tim and after a long silence said in the barest of whispers, "He got paid. Paid."
Tim closed his eyes briefly and then looked down, nodding his head in grim understanding. He knew exactly what Brandy meant and it tore him apart.
Desperation ... self-punishment ... self- fulfilling prophecy ... Todd always referred to himself as a whore. Made it real, Tim thought, made it fucking real. He took a deep breath and looked Brandy straight in the eyes, knowing he was lying to her, "He'll be alright, Brandy, both of you will. I promise."
She smiled, almost laughed, seeing through the lie. "You bein' silly, Superman! You can't change the heat o' the sun or the cold of ice. Can't change nothin'! 'All right' ain't never gonna be the color of us!" She chuckled softly, "He was right about you ... you try so hard. That makes me happy." She leaned forward and put her arms around Tim, whispering into his ear, "I will do anything you want ... 'cause he loves you for sure. You want me to love you? I'll love you ..."
Tim gently pushed her back, his heart breaking for her, "You don't have to 'love' me ... but there is something I would like."
"What that be? What you want?"
Pausing, Tim looked at the girl's dark expectation and it killed him. She only assumed one thing from people around her ... from the world. He cleared his throat, "I want you to get checked into the hospital ... like Todd is. You stay with him ... he'll be so much more comfortable if he knows you're here, too. How about that?"
Brandy stiffened, her face setting into a concerned expression. "What will people do to me here?"
"They'll talk to you, look you over to see if you're healthy. A social worker will see how she can help you too. Give you food, a nice room for a few days."
She nodded then said in a low tone, "Todd said... he was hurt bad here. That people hurt him ... that ..." She looked down at her hands. "He said you threw him down ... and lied to him. But I didn't believe him, Superman, not about you. He'd never call you that if it wasn't true. So what he thought? Something was wrong with it."
He then took Brandy's hand into his, the angel resting on her lap. "You're right. Todd misunderstood things, he mind went a little haywire—"
"That happens sometimes."
"Going haywire?"
She nodded, "Yeah. Sometimes when we… uh… be together? He gets real confused as to where he is. Thinks terrible things are happening." She stared hard at Tim and her eyes grew glassy with tears. "I just try to get him to look at me and remind him that he ain't back there anymore but sometimes nothing I say does anything..."
So the flashbacks were still happening. "That's perfect, the best you can do," the doctor said. "So yes, that's what happened that day. He got confused, scared, and ran. And nothing I said could change his mind."
She shrugged and offered up a suspicious stare.
"I promise," he tried to assure her, "you won't be hurt here. You'll get a room ... you'll get to rest. Tomorrow, you'll meet with a social worker, with a doctor. And all of us ... together, will work to make Todd's life better. So what do you say?"
She contemplated a few minutes, taking the time to look at the examining room, now shielded with a curtain. She held Todd's jacket out to Tim. "You take this. Keep it for him."
"So you'll stay?"
"Yeah," she said quietly.
Taking the jacket, Tim stood up. He nodded to a nurse who was going to take Brandy to the psychiatric ward for observation, close observation. Now ... he needed to call Téa.
Brandy wrapped her arms around herself as Tim walked back to the examining room, and shivered. She looked at the angel in her lap and picked it up.
"Angel," she said to it, "You pretty thing. You made it back home, didn't you? How you do that?"
To be continued...