Blood Mate (14 page)

“When he fed,
where did he bite you?”

Nicole pulled back
her sleeve to show her bare arm.

“And did he
leave a scar?”

“Does it look
like he left one?” Did they think she was now imagining ugly bite
marks that she wore strategic clothing to cover? “I told you
already. He did something to me with his blood. I heal fast now.
Supernaturally fast. Cut me. You’ll see. Cut me with something.”

The doctor wrote
furiously in his notebook. That was apparently the wrong thing to
say. She could only imagine what he was writing.
Desires to
inflict self-harm by proxy. Danger to self and others.

“I’ll show
you!” Nicole grabbed a letter opener out of the pencil cup on his
desk and raised it in the air. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing
for impact. Why hadn’t she thought of this before? They would see,
in front of their own eyes how she could heal. Then they’d have to
believe her. What other explanation could be offered for the ability
to close wounds like that?

“Ow!” Nicole’s
eyes shot open as someone grabbed her wrists, wrenching them behind
her back, pushing her to the ground on her knees. The letter opener
dropped uselessly out of her hand as she turned her head to the side
to find her husband of all people. She struggled against him.

Never before had
she hated his strength. Those muscles that she’d slid her tongue
across so many starry nights and rainy days after indulging in
strawberries and champagne. Those muscles that made her feel so safe,
so protected… being used against her.

“Get off me! I
can show you! I can prove my story’s true! I can prove this is
real! Why won’t you let me show you?”

His overpowering
body pressed in on hers, moving into a stifling backward hug, holding
her arms in, keeping her legs from thrashing. It was like he’d
transformed into an octopus, growing six additional arms to more
easily contain her movement.

“Oh, baby, how
did I not see this? I’m so sorry I didn’t spot the signs,”
Dominic said.

Oh fuck.
Of
course. Because stabbing yourself with a letter opener was crazy.
Anybody would think that, but it was physical proof. Couldn’t they
step back from all this and see the logic in her behavior?

“I’m afraid
this changes things. I’d like to bring her in for observation. Just
for a few days. We’ll get her stabilized on something, see how she
does on it, and when she’s not a danger to herself, she can go
home. You’ll find the class of drugs we have now is first rate.
Much more effective than the earlier generations of anti-psychotics.
She should be back to her normal life in no time.”

This had Nicole
struggling again, clawing at Dominic until there were bloody trails
going down his arm. “You can’t let them do this to me. You can’t
let them drug me. Those drugs are dangerous, and there’s nothing
wrong with me! I’m not crazy! If I’m so crazy, how have I gone
for months without you suspecting anything was off?”

Her eyes lit at
the sight of the blood moving down her husband’s arm. Of course.
She didn’t need a letter opener. If she could get her fingernails
to her own arm… She struggled and strained, kicking and bucking
against him until he went off balance and released her for a split
second. It was enough.

She hissed as she
dug her fingernails through her flesh, and the blood started to flow.
“Look, look at this! Look at my arm. Watch this!”

They were too
slow, because they felt sorry for her, didn’t believe her. She
healed before they saw. If they had seen, in the melee would they
have believed their eyes?

“Honey, that’s
Dominic’s blood,” her mother said, gently.

Part of it was
Dominic’s blood. Part of it was her blood. She’d healed too fast
for them to see the wounds she’d inflicted.

If she were able
to view this overhead, she’d see everybody’s point. Her hair in a
wild and scraggled tangle, makeup and clothes in disarray, screaming,
eyes bulging. But can’t a sane person lose it in such conditions?
When people don’t believe the truth? When they refuse to be shown
proof?

Being kept in a
room for hours, drilled over and over by people who don’t believe
your story. Anybody would become agitated. Anyone would look like
this. Like yesterday’s mental patient. Maybe everybody in the nut
house was perfectly sane, driven to exasperation by this sick,
cloying patronization.

When she realized
how futile fighting against Dominic’s strength was, particularly
with so many others there to hold her down, she stopped and glared up
at Dr. Cronan, gathering cold calm around her. “If you lock me up,
he will hunt you, and he will kill you.”

Her bravery
deflated and her eyes widened when she saw the straitjacket, and her
struggling resumed.

“Settle, now…
easy, Nicole. We don’t use these much anymore. We need to transport
you safely to the hospital, and I’d prefer not to give you drugs
yet. We’ll wait until you’re admitted, until you’re settled,
then we’ll figure out the best course of treatment.”

“No, No, No, No,
No, No, NO!” Her screams hurt her own ears. The panic built higher
and higher, and there was no power short of a horse tranquilizer that
would shut it down.

It took both her
dad and Dominic to get her into the straitjacket while her mother
stood to the side, clenching wadded tissues in her hands, playing the
helpless, drooping flower.

How could they do
this? Her dad and her husband… the two most important men in her
life. The ones who had loved her, cared for her, protected her,
shoving her into a straitjacket without mercy.

“I fucking hate
you both! I hate you! I should have stayed with him. I sacrificed
everything to come back to you, Dominic, everything. I gave myself to
him, for you. For no reason! You miserable bastard!” She could
barely believe the words tumbling out of her mouth. And of course
they sounded like nonsense to assholes who couldn’t fucking listen.
Who couldn’t hear.

She’d told the
story plainly. She’d explained it in great detail. And these
fucking retards couldn’t focus long enough to hear it all. No, they
were too busy in their own fucking heads planning their own words.
What will we say to help this poor crazy girl? Instead of listening.
Why bother listening when you know you’re right?

Dominic pulled her
into his arms, bound up in the straitjacket, shouting profanities at
him. He petted her hair. “Shhhh, baby. I know it’s confusing
right now, but we’re going to make this better. I know you don’t
mean any of this.”

Like hell I
don’t. Like fucking hell.
She wanted to spit on him, but she
caught herself in time. Maybe he was right. Maybe she would regret
all this later, but the only moment that existed was now. And now
there wasn’t enough space in the universe to contain her simmering,
lonely hatred.

She felt puffy,
her hair clinging to a tear-streaked face, driving her past the point
of rational thought. She couldn’t raise her arm to get it off her
skin. It felt like an eel slithering down her cheek. “M-my hair,”
she managed. She was filled with so much rage toward her husband she
couldn’t bring herself to ask him to do something for her. The rest
of the words wouldn’t come. Just: my hair.

Large
hands—incongruous working in law—brushed away the strands that
clung to her face. Warm lips pressed against her forehead. “Shhhh.
Don’t. It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Chapter Eleven

Nicole tried to
stay calm in the car and calm in the hospital waiting area while they
checked her in. The stakes had risen. If she couldn’t manage a
reasonable approximation of rational, she might never escape this
place.

Oh, the doctor
said just a few days. He made it sound like no big deal. Like a sinus
infection. We’ll give her a few drugs; she’ll be good as new.
She’ll come home, and it’ll be something you manage like
diabetes. But things would be normal again. Just like before.

If anybody in this
hospital was ill, it was her parents and Dominic for believing such
lies. They could keep her twenty-four hours without her consent. The
doctor would file the requisite paperwork for more, or he’d wear
her down and get her to sign herself in. A day would become a week,
then a month, then a year. If she didn’t lie, she’d never get out
of here.

No. August is
coming.

As she thought it,
she worried it wasn’t true. What if he didn’t find her? What if
he got too hungry, fed from someone else, and didn’t need or want
her anymore? Once he crossed that line, maybe she’d become more
trouble than she was worth to him.

What if he wasn’t
real?

She sat next to
her husband, rocking herself and whimpering, while Dr. Cronan
finished the admissions process. Her thoughts had fallen down a crazy
spiral.

She turned to
Dominic so fast she almost fell out of the plastic bucket seat beside
him. “You can stop this. Please, take me home. I’ll never talk
about August again. I-I’m not crazy. I got confused. Please.
Please. Don’t you love me?”

“You know I love
you, but I’m not equipped to keep you from stabbing yourself with
every sharp object you come across to prove you can magically heal.
What if you accidentally did real damage? What if you hit a major
artery? This is too serious, Nicole. I don’t think any less of you.
It’s no different than any other disease people get.”

“I’ll never
get out of here,” she whispered.

“Look at me.”
He spun her awkwardly toward him, holding her steady so she didn’t
lose her balance. “I love you. I will protect your rights. You’re
not going to be locked away forever. Just a few days, while they
decide the best drug to put you on. If you had a bad reaction,
wouldn’t you rather be in the hospital where they can help you?”

He knew how she
felt about drugs. She barely would take a painkiller when her head
was splitting. “Don’t let them drug me. Please. I’m okay. I
don’t need the drugs.” But they both knew there would be drugs.

He looked at her
sadly.

In spite of
everything, she wanted to cling to him, but she couldn’t wrap her
arms around him—as if he were a mere projection of her mind. Like
he
was the delusion. Before she could hyperventilate from
thinking about her confinement, Dr. Cronan turned from the front desk
with a non-threatening bedside manner smile on his face.

The fact that he
could lock her up in the looney bin and still smile mildly, told her
everything she needed to know about him. If August ate him, she might
dance in the blood.

“Come along,
Nicole, let’s get you settled in for the night. Everything will
seem better in the morning.” Together, the doctor and Dominic
helped pull her to her feet.

Her husband leaned
in to kiss her, but she turned her head away. “If you kiss me right
now, I swear to God I’ll press charges for assault. If I’m crazy
and tied up, how can I consent to anything?”

He pulled back,
and she was almost happy by the hurt look in his eyes. The feeling
caught her off guard. The two of them had never been that couple. The
couple that snipped at each other and said hateful things. Had it
only been the relative ease of their life that had made their
relationship so perfect? How strong was their love if it couldn’t
withstand the simplest obstacle? She wanted desperately to love him
right now, but he was the enemy, participating in keeping her in the
hospital against her consent. He’d betrayed her when he should have
been her partner.

The thought stole
through her mind,
August never would have done this.
She tried
to smother it out of existence, but it was already out there,
laughing like a Cheshire Cat.

As Dr. Cronan led
her away, she didn’t look back. All three of them were dead to her
right now. She couldn’t stand to call forth the image of their
faces in her mind. They were all free. They were all sane and normal,
and no one wanted to tie them up or give them drugs. No one wanted to
control their life and fuck their consent because they’d been
deemed incompetent.

When the gate
closed behind them, Dr. Cronan said. “Let’s get this off you. I
know it must be terribly uncomfortable. I’d panic in it, too. Are
you calm enough for that?”

“Yes, doctor.”
Her voice droned out of her like she’d already been drugged. Like
those sticky substances were flowing through her veins attaching to
her thoughts and morphing them into something more acceptable.
Something for the greater comfort of society.

“Are you going
to hurt yourself?”

“No.” Like
she’d tell him if she were planning it. How stupid did he think she
was?

As he unbuckled
the jacket, the anguish of the situation hit her. Sick or not, there
was no escape. Getting Dominic to believe her had been the only hope
she had of getting him to run with her.

The doctor led her
to a small desk where a woman sat with a bunch of tiny paper cups
filled with pills. He spoke quietly to her and then turned to Nicole
with a paper cup with an orange pill in the bottom, and a second cup
filled with lukewarm water.

She took a step
back and shook her head. “No… I don’t want to take that.”

“It’s a mild
sedative to help you sleep. We’ll talk about your treatment plan
tomorrow.”

She shook her head
again. “No.”

“Yes. Now you
have to let us treat you. We’re trying to help you get better. The
more you resist, the harder this will be.”

Men in gray scrubs
appeared in her peripheral vision. They stayed in the background but
were ready to spring into action if she caused trouble.

“Please, I don’t
like drugs. If it’s a sedative, I should be able to choose if I
want to take it or not. Am I not here for delusions? These aren’t
related issues.” She tried to sound reasonable, But the panic
climbed up her throat wrapping around her voice box like a
constricting snake until her speech came out high-pitched and nearly
too soft to hear.