Married to the Dragon Page 16

  She stood in the bathroom for a few seconds, regulating her breathing, before she rushed out of the bathroom again. She quickly changed her underwear and stuffed a wad of toilet paper in the crotch to catch any more of the bloody substance. Then she did the first thing she could think of: she dialed the number for the hospital and spoke to a receptionist on the phone. After proving her identity as a patient there, she received Dr. Blake’s phone number and dialed his number immediately.

  The phone rang four times before Jenn realized she had called the doctor’s home phone, not his cell phone as she intended. I forgot he was on vacation. He probably won’t even get any message if I leave one. Just as she was about to hang up, a voice sounded on the line. “Hello?” It sounded like the doctor’s voice, only groggier. Jenn looked at the clock: 11:32 p.m. Oh, he is home. I must have woken him. Oops.

  “Dr. Blake? Hi, it’s Jenn Walsh. I—I just had a question for you. Something happened.” She heard the doctor inhale sharply on the line, but he didn’t say anything, so after a pause she continued. “I was just in the bathroom, and something fell — um, out of me, like, into the toilet. I don’t know what it is. Sorry for calling so late; I just....” She couldn’t find the words.

  The doctor stayed silent, but Jenn could hear him breathing. “Dr. Blake?”

  “Yes, I’m here. What happened, exactly?” Jenn told him an abridged version of what had happened recently: the nausea, the depression, the apparent blood clot in her toilet — even, reluctantly, mentioning that she had had sex that day for the first time. The doctor only murmured to himself in reply over the receiver. “Mhm, yes, okay, I’ll have to— Or maybe... Well.” He cleared his throat. “Can you get to the hospital right now? I’d like to look at you. There’s not much time for either of us.”

  “What do you mean? What’s going on?” But the doctor only rushed on. “You’re about an hour away, right? That should give me plenty of time to prepare everything. Meet me in the usual room.” Then a click.

  “Wait, Dr. Blake, I wanted to ask you—“It was too late; he was gone.

  Jenn stood for a minute with her hands on her head, wondering what to do. Then she rushed back to her bedroom and packed a change of clothes and toiletries in case she had to stay overnight. It was now already midnight. As she left the house, she remembered to text Steve. If anyone could help her through this, it was Steve. “Come to hospital. Something’s wrong — having emergency procedure with Dr. Blake. Hurry.” She could only pray he was still awake and saw it, but to her great relief, less than a minute later came the reply: “On my way. You okay?” I don’t know how to answer that, Jenn thought, tears welling up in her eyes. “Not sure. Just hurry. Please.”

  Jenn sped down the empty freeway to the hospital and rushed up to her normal hospital room, past the night nurses on duty. She could feel the toilet paper in her underwear starting to become wet, and she hurried to make it into the room. Half of the hallway lights were turned off for the night and her usual room was completely dark. Dr. Blake must not have made it yet. Jenn’s heart flipped over in her chest. Please let everything be okay.

  She ran into the room, flipped on the lights and headed straight to the adjoining bathroom to change the bloodied toilet paper. When she opened the door again, the lights were half off, the door, curtains were closed, and Dr. Blake was nowhere to be found. Squinting, she took two steps into the darkened room when suddenly an arm flew over her head from behind her and clasped tightly around her neck. She sputtered and pulled at it but she felt herself growing lightheaded instead and she couldn’t fight it. Her grip loosened; her body fell limp; then her vision went dark.

  The next thing she knew, she was lying on her back on a bed, staring up at a white ceiling covered in half-lit fluorescent lights. She sat up but was pulled by a restraint strapped over her chest; two more were holding her arms down to the bed on either side of her. Her instinct told her to kick and fight to get loose, but no matter how much she moved, she couldn’t get free. Then Dr. Blake appeared in her periphery.

  “Stop moving,” he said harshly, grabbing Jenn’s throat and pushing her down to the bed. She cried out and thrashed against him, but he was too strong and held her too tightly. “Shut up, you little whore. Don’t speak.” He grabbed a roll of gauze from the medical cabinet against the wall and stuffed it into Jenn’s mouth. She gagged and coughed, but it wouldn’t budge; the quicker her breaths, the rougher it felt against her tongue, and her eyes began to water in fear and discomfort. To her left, she could see the doctor injecting some sort of clear liquid into a syringe, which he then set on the shelf at the foot of the bed. Whatever was inside dripped a few drops onto the surface.

  Dr. Blake caught her looking. “It’s fentanyl,” he said, leaning menacingly near her face. “Not the usual propofol — oh no, you’d be too used to that by now. That amount will put you to sleep, into a little coma, and then you’ll die.”

  Jenn’s eyes widened.

  “You’ve given me no choice. You know too much.” As he spoke, he started tearing off Jenn’s clothing piece by piece, pulling her pants down forcefully, and snapping off her underwear with one strong motion. She whimpered each time he touched her, and the gauze pushed further down her throat. He sent one glancing blow from the back of his hand on the side of her face, where a red mark appeared. “This will be easy. It’ll look like you fell asleep and reacted badly to a new form of anesthesia and simply slipped away.” He made a fake pouting face at her. “And no one will know the difference.”

  Dr. Blake moved to the foot of the bed now and looked over her, exposed and vulnerable beneath him. All Jenn could see of his face were the shadows that formed his cheekbones and the shine from his fang-like teeth. As if reading the fears in her head, Dr. Blake then leaned down and pursed his lips on her stomach below her navel, biting down hard until he broke the skin, and working with his fingers to undo his belt at the same time.

  He pulled his belt off with a flick of his wrist and ran it over her body, the leather dragging on her skin. “Don’t make a sound,” he threatened. “Be a good little girl and lie there, like you did all the other times.” Jenn emitted a muffled cry. Dr. Blake leaned down between her legs again and hissed at her. “I’ve had enough of you — you and your boyfriend, your sister, and your baby. Yes, that’s what came out of you, wasn’t it, Jenn — the rest of it, after I killed it? I wasn’t careful enough; I made a mistake. And you noticed.” Jenn’s eyes widened further and she weakly pulled at her restraints again. “But no one will notice now.” He reached for the syringe on the shelf and squeezed out a little of the liquid. “But not quite yet. I want to hear you scream before you go. You were always too quiet in bed.” Holding the syringe with one hand, he started reaching for the zipper of his pants, grinning maniacally all the while.

  Just as he did, the faint sound of frantic footsteps became audible outside. The door flew open on its hinges, and Steve burst in to the grisly scene. He took one sweeping glance around and swayed backward in shock. Jenn, seeing him, screamed through the gauze at him and writhed in the bed, thrashing desperately to escape. From the foot of the bed, Dr. Blake stared wide-eyed at the intruder, still holding both the syringe and reaching into his pants. Without thinking, Steve lunged for the doctor and knocked him off his feet. The syringe went flying across the room, and Steve heard it clack across the floor when it fell, along with the sickening crack of Dr. Blake’s skull against the floor.

  Then Steve ran to Jenn and yanked the gauze out of her throat. She coughed, gagged, and reached for him. “Steve, it was him—the whole time—you were right—“ He ripped through the restraints that were holding her down and squeezed her in his arms tightly, pulling her clothing back on her to cover her up. “Are you hurt?” he asked. She shook her head and he helped her to her feet. The two stood there for a brief moment of respite, arms wrapped around each other.

  Then a noise came from the floor: Dr. Blake had come to and had started to groan. He sat up slightly and looked
up to see Jenn and Steve standing together before him, looking down at him.

  Steve’s arms had tensed up. “You son of a bitch,” he said, taking a step toward the doctor.

  Dr. Blake scrambled to reach the syringe, which he brandished toward Steve, who stopped short. “That’s what I thought,” Dr. Blake said with a sneer. “This is certain death.”

  Jenn tried to pull Steve back, pleading with him not to get any closer.

  The men locked eyes with each other for just a few seconds. Dr. Blake’s hand had begun to shake from holding the syringe in his extended hand — and then, in a flash, he turned it toward himself and plunged it into the side of his neck. The impact made him wince and he fell forward onto the floor once more. Steve gasped and staggered backward and Jenn clutched him tighter with one arm, covering her mouth with the other.

  Dr. Blake only laughed. He tossed the empty syringe toward the wall and tilted his head back to look at Jenn and Steve. Slowly, as the drowsiness began to set in, he lost his balance and crumpled onto the floor. He coughed, took a few ragged breaths, and, within a few minutes, fell motionless.

  The only sound in the room now was the overhead hum of the air conditioning in the ceiling vents. Jenn and Steve could scarcely breathe. Then, all at once, they collapsed into each other and grasped each other as firmly as they could.

  “I’m sorry,” Jenn said, gasping for air amid her tears. “I didn’t think—I didn’t know—it was him—“

  “Shh. It’s okay. You’re okay.” Steve could only stroke her hair with his hand; he felt her shaking in his arms. “It’s over.”

  “I kept having this dream. Dr. Blake — he was a snake, chasing me and then it went black. I couldn’t move— all this time when I was asleep. Oh my god, oh my god.”

  Steve only squeezed her tighter into his body. Her cries began to subside into sniffles and then he held her by the arms and looked into her eyes. “We’re going to make this right. Don’t worry,” he said with a kiss. “I’ll make sure everything is made right.”

  “How? What do you mean?”

  “I never told you, but—“ Steve reached into his pocket for his wallet and pulled out his hospital identification card with his full name on it: Steven Joseph Connelly, CNA “—my dad owns this hospital system.”

  Jenn blinked. “What?”

  “My dad is Richard Connelly. He’s the President and CEO of the hospital system. I didn’t want you, or anyone, to know; I was afraid everyone would think it was nepotism, you know, and that I’m only here because of him.” He reached down and touched her fingers gently. “We’ll fix everything, Jenn.” He gave her another sweet forehead kiss. “Just trust me. We’re in this together.”

  Jenn only buried her face in his chest, while he used his free hand to pull his cell phone out of his pocket. The phone rang twice before a man’s voice came on the other end. “Hello?”

  “Dad, it’s me. Are you alone? We need to talk.”

  Part II

  Chapter One

  Just before 10 a.m., Steve Connelly stood outside a pair of tall stately doors leading to the boardroom of St. Benedict Regional Medical Center, his tall, muscular frame casting a large shadow onto its handles. Just through doors sat his father, Richard Connelly, the President and CEO of the entire hospital system, and his team of six attorneys. It was his first real business meeting as heir-apparent to the hospital empire.

  Steve had been dreading it for days; his stomach churned with nausea every time he thought about facing his father after the ordeal of the past several weeks. It was too soon.

  For months, Steve’s girlfriend, Jenn Walsh, had been the victim of psychological torture and sexual abuse at the hands of once-renowned nephrologist Dr. Samuel Blake. Unknown to Jenn, during her scheduled dialysis treatments for lupus-related kidney problems, Dr. Blake had used and abused her for his own sadistic sexual pleasure, impregnating her and aborting his own fetus inside her, until finally, Jenn — with Steve’s help — had figured out what was happening. At the end of it all, Dr. Blake took his own life — and ruined Jenn’s.

  Now, only a week later, Steve was reeling in the aftermath, and he had to deal with the fallout from both sides. As he stood outside his father’s massive boardroom doors, he felt sick to his stomach about having to address the inevitable legal consequences so soon after Jenn’s terrible experiences. All he wanted to do was go to her, wrap her up in his arms and smother her with love and affection. He wanted nothing to do with his father now.

  Nevertheless, he stood tall and pushed open the door anyway. An imposing scene met his eyes: his father sat in the middle of the conference room table, flanked by a team of six lawyers all sitting around him in their best suits. Richard Connelly stood up when he saw his son come in. “Ah, Steve, right on time. Come, sit.” He sounded so formal, as if he really was addressing his successor and not his own child. He’d always been that distant. Steve approached his spot awkwardly, hyperaware of all the eyes on him, and sat on the edge of the chair.

  “We’ve been discussing our options with the situation” — Richard Connelly never described what happened to Jenn with specific language — “and I think you’ll appreciate what the lawyers have come up with.” Richard held out a stack of papers at least 30 pages high for Steve to peruse.

  Steve glumly took the stack from his father and began leafing through it, his mind too distracted to read closely. “This is a lot,” he said stupidly. His father laughed.

  Richard Connelly was no fool. He knew his hospital was the perpetrator of a great and terrible error in the Blake affair, and he had presided over enough scandals of various size to know he had to act fast. It had already been five business days since the discovery of the malpractice, and Richard was in full executive mode, soothing the family’s shock, apologizing for the family, vowing to make amends. The one thing he always made sure he did, however, was preserving secrecy until legal proceedings took place, if or when that happened. His team of attorneys, too, had honed their skills to a frightening degree. They had spent hours preparing this 30-page settlement; they knew every sentence, word, and comma like the back of their hands.

  “Yes, it looks like a lot, but it’s actually very simple. Bill, would you mind going through it with Steve as well?”

  The heavy man who sat directly to Richard’s right, and whose neck rolled over the collar of his too-tight button-up shirt, coughed twice, his cheeks jiggling, began to speak. “We know the situation is serious. We know the consequence, but we’ve prepared a package that I think will be very satisfactory to all the parties. As you can see, if you read through it, we will pay Ms. Walsh a settlement of $300,000 as well as pay all her medical fees — for lupus-related complications, of course, not everything — for the rest of her life. We just need her to sign a non-disclosure agreement and a waiver of legal liability.” Bill smiled. “It’s as simple as that.”

  “We think she’ll be pleased with this deal. It’ll prevent us from any negative publicity, and it’ll prevent her from bankrupting herself with either a lawsuit or continued medical bills, and,” Richard added with a faint smile, “perhaps she’ll give us another chance.”

  Steve contributed very little to the conversation; what he heard sounded logical. He knew his father, he also knew Jenn. He was certain both sides wanted to get past this as soon as possible. It would give Jenn a chance to fully recover and for the hospital to avoid an expensive lawsuit. He had not been involved in the discussions about how to address the legal aspects of the situation, but his father knew he would be key in communicating on a personal level with Jenn. The rest was up to the lawyers, who went on to explain the plan, page by page. When lunchtime rolled around, everyone in the room left satisfied that affairs were in order.

  Steve wasn’t scheduled to work that day. He left immediately after the meeting to meet Jenn for lunch at her parents’ house, about an hour away from the hospital. He visited her every day since she had narrowly avoided death at the hands of Dr. Blake, and althou
gh he could see her improvement already, he knew she still had a long way to go.

  Every time he rang her parents’ doorbell, he cautiously asked her mother how she was feeling before going inside. Today she greeted him with a smile — a very good sign.

  He walked outside to the patio — carrying the stack of papers in his hand — to find Jenn and her older sister, Kenzie, sharing lemonade in the sunshine. Jenn’s back was to the door, so she didn’t notice when Steve arrived, but Kenzie perked up and waved at him. Jenn turned around. “Steve!” she exclaimed, hopping out of her chair; she ran over to him and pulled him close to her.

  He wrapped his arms around her back and held her just as tightly.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said. They stood holding each other for several seconds — then from a distance, Kenzie rolled her eyes. “God, get a room,” she said, pretending to gag. Jenn and Steve broke apart, laughing. Leave it to Kenzie to provide the comic relief.

  Steve pulled up a patio chair next to his girlfriend and settled in. They made small talk at first; awkward as it was — and had been — while Steve gauged her mood. Jenn was smiling. She sat in the sunshine with a hat and sunglasses on, while the warm rays came down onto her exposed arms and legs. Just visible below Jenn’s left elbow were small scars from the countless needles she had inserted there for various medicines; but none of the present company even noticed them anymore. She listened to her sister tell stories about her wild Los Angeles life and laughed often, her high-pitched voice dancing across the patio. Steve was relieved.