by Bo Brennan
The doctor said he'd call if anything happened. Go home, get some rest, he'd said. She took her mobile from her hand bag and checked the missed calls registry for the hundredth time. Nothing. She hadn't been able to sleep last night, had lain atop her bedcovers staring at the phone in her hand, terrified it would ring. And now she found herself staring at it again. But this time she was here – at the time he'd told her to come – and he hadn't phoned, so Billy had to be okay.
“I'm Doctor Johnson. How can I help you, Miss Lewis?” a voice behind her said.
Startled, she turned to see the nurse now accompanied by the kindly doctor who she had been so grateful to last night. For the first time in almost twelve hours she allowed a hint of a relieved smile to grace her lips as she dropped the phone back into her bag.
“Oh, Dr Johnson, thank god,” she said, gripping his hand with both of hers. “How is he?”
The doctor glanced at the nurse – who raised a shoulder and shook her head – before peering at Lisa intently. “How is who, Miss Lewis?”
“Billy.” She smiled uneasily. “How's my Billy?”
Dr Johnson frowned. “I'm sorry Miss Lewis, we don't have Billy here.”
“Where is he?” she said, the first signs of hysteria creeping into her voice. “Is he still in A&E?”
“Miss Lewis,” the Doctor said softly. “There is no record of a Billy Lewis being anywhere in this hospital.”
Lisa frowned and rubbed at her forehead. Her mouth worked hard to find the right words. “Then where did you take him?” she cried. “Last night you told me to come here. You said he'd be here!”
The nurse's eyes widened in astonishment. “Calm down and take a seat, dear,” she said, patting her arm. “I'll fetch you a glass of water.”
“I don't want a glass of water,” she cried, pushing the nurse away and grabbing at the doctor's white coat. “I want my son! What have you done with my son?”
The doctor set his jaw. “Miss Lewis, I haven't done anything with your son. I've never seen you before in my life.”
“You're not stealing my baby!” she screamed, pushing past him and into the main corridor of the baby unit. “I want my baby!”
“Nurse, call security,” Dr Johnson said, grabbing at Lisa's shoulder in a vain attempt to drag her back into the waiting room where the situation could be contained.
Lisa didn't want to be contained. She wanted her son. And she wasn't leaving without him.
“Billy!” She ran frantically through the unit, evading the doctor's attempts to restrain her, screaming all the while at the top of her lungs for her baby boy.
The commotion set off a chain reaction as one by one the babies in the unit began to cry out. Her mothering instincts went to full scale alert. Wrenching door after door open, she subconsciously discarded each cry. In the din of a thousand babies she would home to her own. If Billy was there, she would find him.
The six burly security guards arrived all too soon.
She was tackled to the ground and pinned like a starfish – one on each limb, one on her back, and another pressing her face into the cold hard floor. She could barely breathe, yet still she strained and struggled against them. Her screams for her son spilled from her lips as drooling mumbles.
“The police are on their way,” one of the security guards called out as he ground her face harder into the floor, stemming her screams to mere guttural growls of fury.
“There's no need for the police,” the doctor said. “I've called the duty psychiatrist.”
“There's every need,” the nurse said. “Look what she's done.”
“Police,” Lisa grunted. He might not want them, but she did. They'd get her son back. She groaned as more pressure was applied to her back, squeezing the last of the air from her lungs. All she needed to do was stay calm and concentrate on her breathing. When the police arrived everything would be all right.
“That's a bit excessive boys,” a stern female voice called out. “Off. Now.”
Lisa felt the weight leave her body as one by one the security guards rose, until she could fill her lungs with air again. Breathing deeply she struggled to her knees and lifted her eyes to meet those of the female voice. The police officer extended her hand to help her up. As Lisa reached for it, she glanced at the doctor who had stolen her baby.
He was smiling sympathetically at her.
Invigorated with the fullness of air in her lungs, she sprang from a kneeling position to on him in a split second, screaming, “Where's my son,” over and over again.
This time only the two police officers grabbed at her, the security guards standing idly by until the officers shouted for assistance. Seconds later she found herself pinned to the cold hard floor once more, her cheek pressed into a growing pool of her own saliva, her hands cuffed behind her back.
“Doctor, you're bleeding,” the male police officer said. “You might want to get that looked at.”
“I'll be fine,” he said, taking the sterile dressing from the nurse and pressing it to his face. “It’s just a flesh wound.”
“You've been gouged pretty good,” the male officer persisted.
“Well, I'm sure he'll do okay for medical assistance,” the female officer said curtly, “after he's told us what’s going on.”
“Do you want to press charges, Doctor?” the male officer asked
“Goodness no,” he gasped. “The woman is mentally ill, she needs help.”
“She claimed Dr Johnson stole her baby,” the nurse snapped. The doctor didn't appear particularly pleased with her attempts at helping.
“Why would she do that?” the female officer asked. Exactly, Lisa thought and grunted her agreement.
From her available left eye she watched the doctor shrug. “I have absolutely no idea,” he said.
“Have you ever seen her before?” the female officer pressed.
“No,” Dr Johnson said. “None of us have.”
Liar! Lisa struggled. The pressure on her back increased and she let out a stifled groan. She wanted her say, but with at least thirty stones of security on her back, squeezing the air from her lungs and squashing her face into the floor, she couldn't even move her lips let alone articulate her defence. Her chance to speak would come soon. Until then, she resigned herself to listening to every word exchanged between the doctor and the police officers as she seethed silently on the ground. And then she felt a sharp scratch in the crook of her left arm.
“What are you doing?” the female officer shouted coming towards her.
“Duty Psychiatrist,” a new voice said. “I've sedated her.”
“What the hell did you do that for?”
Lisa Lewis's world went blank, robbing her of the courtesy of his response to the female officer’s question.
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