Behind These Scars

by Lilah Grey

  I give one last call for help before Rose is on me. I feel a sharp prick on my neck, and a few seconds later, the already dim light grows dimmer as my consciousness fades away once again.

  25

  Luke

  I’m only vaguely aware of the people around me as I move through the automatic doors of St. David’s Medical Center. They all blur into one unintelligible mass of color, streaking by me like neon lights in a long exposure photograph of Times Square. Even Olivia, who follows at my heels, fades into the background as the din of the bustling waiting room washes over me.

  Nothing matters more to me right now than seeing Libby. I need to know that she’s okay.

  Olivia explained what happened. When she finally arrived at the house, she found it empty. She lost it when she found blood on the floor, thinking that it belonged to Libby. She tracked my phone and discovered it was next door. After knocking on Rose’s door, she heard screaming, so she called the police, and they stormed in ten minutes later.

  I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t want to believe it.

  Rose.

  This whole time… next door…

  With my eyes on Margaret, I was blind to any other possibility. To me, there were no other possibilities, and even now that the truth’s out, it doesn’t make any sense. I don’t understand why Rose poisoned Libby. She had no motive as far as I could tell.

  I should be happy that my name is finally cleared, but I’m not. Libby’s in the hospital because I couldn’t protect her.

  Olivia tried to find details from the officers, but they were all tight-lipped and dismissive. She watched as officers walked Rose down the steps of her front porch and into the back of a police cruiser. She watched as Libby was then wheeled out on a stretcher and driven off in an ambulance. Both of us heard the helicopter that life-flighted her to Austin before we left Milton’s city limits.

  The nurse behind the main desk holds a telephone, speaking into the receiver in a low whisper as I approach. I lower myself down so that our eyes meet. I clear my throat to get her attention.

  “Libby Grayson. Where is she?”

  She narrows her eyes, frowning at me as she reaches over the counter and taps a laminated sign taped to it. The chair creaks under her weight as she leans back and swivels around.

  I read the sign. Visiting hours are over.

  I reach over the counter and spin her chair back around. “I don't give a fuck about visiting hours. You will tell me where Libby Grayson is or I will open every fucking door in this building until I find her. Your choice.”

  Olivia tugs at my arm. “That’s enough,” she whispers in a harsh tone.

  “Sir, please step away from the desk. Visiting hours are over. If you don't need medical attention, I'm going to have to ask you to leave.” Her response is robotic as she continues to drone on. “If you choose not to leave, I'll inform security, and they can escort you off the premises.”

  “Luke, come on,” Olivia says, tugging at my shirt. “We need to go or else—”

  I whip around. “Or else what? I’ll get arrested?”

  Olivia’s face reddens as she turns away, wilting under my gaze.

  I realize I’m a little too gruff, but my patience is thinning the longer I go without answers—without seeing Libby.

  When I turn back around, the nurse is off the phone, writing something down on a clipboard.

  “Let me speak with her doctor.” I grit my teeth and force a smile. “Please?”

  She looks at me as though I’m boring her.

  “Name?”

  I give her Libby's name again, and she motions for me to take a seat in one of the empty chairs while she looks up the information.

  Olivia follows me like a sad puppy but sits a few seats away.

  I tell her that I’m sorry for snapping at her, but she only offers a weak smile in return before pulling out her phone.

  I look back to the front desk and wait as my mind becomes overwhelmed with negative thoughts.

  It’s hard to believe that Libby’s in the hospital. Hurt. Sick. Wounded. I remember the feel of her soft skin as I held her in my arms. The rhythmic rise and fall of our chests as our hearts beat in unison. Our future together looked so bright only a few hours ago, but now everything is up in the air.

  I don’t know what I’ll do if Libby…

  I’m not going to say. I refuse to believe that it will come to that. But even though I force the thought out of my head, the longer I sit here, the more it wiggles its way back, lurking just beneath the surface.

  Everything fades away as I drown in my thoughts. I'm not sure how long I've been sitting here, but eventually, I see Olivia in front of me. I see her before I realize she's shaking me. My head feels like I’ve been diving deep underwater for hours, and I'm just now resurfacing.

  “Luke,” Olivia says, letting go as I finally focus on her. “Dr. Madison is here.”

  “Who?”

  “Libby’s doctor.”

  Olivia backs away as a woman steps up and takes her place.

  “Mr. Masters,” she says, extending a long, slender hand toward me. “I’m Dr. Madison, Libby’s doctor.”

  I shake her hand as I look up at her.

  She's wearing a long, white coat, unbuttoned so that I can see the gray slacks and light blue blouse she's wearing underneath. Her hair is black and wavy with streaks of gray running through it.

  “How is she?”

  I hardly recognize my voice. It’s weak and shaky and brittle.

  “She’s doing well.” Dr. Madison places her hand on my shoulder. "Very well, considering the circumstances. But her body's been under a lot of stress and needs to rest.”

  “Is she going to be okay?”

  She squeezes my shoulder once and then lets her hand fall back to her side.

  “She'll pull through. Right now, all she needs is rest. And I suggest you do the same. She's sleeping now, and I doubt she'll be up before noon. She might even sleep through the rest of the day while her body flushes out the excess drugs we couldn't pump from her stomach.”

  “Drugs?”

  “We don’t know everything that’s in her system. We’re running tests now.”

  “Thank you,” Olivia says, wrapping an arm around at me.

  Dr. Madison offers a thin smile before turning around to leave.

  “Get some rest,” she calls over her shoulder, heels clicking as she heads out of the waiting room.

  “She’s right, you know,” Olivia says, rubbing my shoulder. “You should get some rest.”

  “I’m staying here.”

  I know I should head back to my apartment and sleep, but the rational part of my brain has turned off. I’m not leaving this hospital until I see Libby.

  Olivia sighs but knows there's nothing she can say that will budge me. That's why she's always made a good assistant. She picks her battles. She knows this isn't one she's going to win.

  “Is there anything I can get for you?”

  “Go back to my apartment and grab Crouton. Libby will want to see him when she wakes up.”

  “I don’t think animals are—”

  I wave my hand dismissively and glance away.

  She claps her knees. “Fine. I’ll get Crouton and meet you back here. It won’t be until noon because I’m not a robot and I do need sleep.”

  Olivia stands to leave, and without thinking, I reach out and grab her hand.

  “Thank you, Olivia, for all that you do for me. You’re a better assistant than I deserve.”

  She beams at me. “You’re welcome.”

  She leaves me moments later, and I make a mental note to give her a bonus, in addition to a raise, after all of this is over.

  I slouch in my chair, drifting in and out of a restless sleep for the remainder of the night. When the sun finally rises, I get up and head back to the front desk. I chew the inside of my mouth when I notice that the same nurse I screamed at last night is still manning the desk. Thankfully, she’s not one to h
old grudges.

  “Welcome back,” she says, smiling. She slides me a piece of paper.

  I smile when I see that she’s written Libby’s name and room number on it.

  “Elevator’s that way.” She points over my right shoulder before returning to her crossword.

  My heart leaps to my throat as I walk down the hallway, each step taking me closer to Libby. I almost break down when I finally find her room and see her sleeping in the bed, tubes sticking out of her arms, machines on all sides. She looks so frail, and all I want to do is hold her, feel her in my arms again.

  I brush her hair off her face and kiss her forehead. “I’m never leaving you again,” I whisper into her ear. “I promise.”

  I pull a chair from the corner of the room and position it next to her bed. I stroke her arm as I hold her hand, so incredibly happy that she’s alright; she’s still breathing.

  I sit in the same position for hours, making sure that I’m the first person she sees when she wakes up.

  Nurses come in and out, checking charts and settings on the machines. Dr. Madison came in a few times, and we chatted. She offered to buy me lunch, but I declined. I wasn't going to leave Libby's side.

  Olivia came in sometime later with Crouton. As soon as she let him out of his cage, he jumped up onto the bed and curled up against Libby. We got a few sideways glances from the nurses, but they didn't say anything. I wouldn't want to be the one to pry him away from Libby's side…

  “Do you want to get lunch?” Olivia asks. “I can stay here. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

  “No,” I say, stroking Libby’s arm.

  “You have to eat something.”

  I don’t respond.

  “Fine,” Olivia says. “I’ll go grab you a sandwich from the cafeteria.”

  Just as she was leaving, the door opens and in walks Damian. He takes a few steps into the room and stops, staring at Libby.

  I can feel my neck heating up. “Can I help you?”

  Her jerks his gaze from Libby, locking his eyes on me.

  “I have something to show you,” he says.

  “What is it?”

  “I’ll need you to come with me.”

  I look back at Libby. “I’m not leaving.”

  There’s a silver disc in between his fingers. He waves it in the air in front of him. “I think you’re going to want to see this.”

  “I’ll stay with Libby,” Olivia says, coming up behind Damian. “Go.” She nods toward the door.

  I grit my teeth, taking one last look at Libby before I stand up and follow Damian.

  “This better be good.”

  26

  Luke

  “It’s not good. Not at all,” Damian says.

  The door to Libby's room shuts behind us, and we start walking down the hallway. Nurses weave in and out of rooms, scrubs as far as the eye can see. The smell of the hospital is flat and sterile, and I'm regretting leaving Libby behind.

  Whatever’s on the disc didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was in the room behind me.

  We get into the elevator, and the door closes. Damian presses a button, and the elevator begins to rise. He leans against the back wall, looking down at the floor before bringing his gaze up to me.

  “I’m sorry, Luke. I wish I saw it sooner, but the evidence—”

  “You saw what you wanted to see. You wanted to see me as the bad guy. The loose cannon with a short fuse. I don't need or want your apology. The only person you should apologize to is Libby because if you were doing your job, she wouldn’t have tubes hooked up to her right now.”

  Damian clenches his jaw. The elevator beeps as it moves past each floor, but neither of us speaks until the door finally opens up to the hallway.

  “This way,” Damian says, motioning me to follow.

  He leads me down a series of corridors, leaving behind the scrubs for suits. Hospital administrators cast us cursory glances as we pass each other, continuing on their way without a second glance.

  “In here,” he says, ducking into an empty office.

  He pulls out a laptop, boots it up, and inserts the disc.

  “Sit,” he says, handing me a pair of headphones.

  I put them on as I position myself in front of the screen. He opens the file on the disc, and a video pops up.

  “This isn’t exactly standard protocol, but you deserve to know. You deserve to see…” Damian’s voice drifts off as he turns around and slouches in a chair opposite of me. He covers his face as he hangs his head.

  Bile rises in my throat as I look at the frozen image on the screen. It's a bird's eye view of a square room. Harsh fluorescent lighting reflects off the yellowing tile. There's a single table at the center the room. There are two officers on one side of the table. Rose sits on the other.

  I press play. The video is only a clip of a longer interview because it begins with Rose's answer to an unknown question.

  “They took Abigail from me. You know that right?” Anger flashes on her face. “They plucked her right out of my arms. Kept her far away from me. When they brought her back, they’d stopped calling her Abigail. It’s rotten.” Rose slams her palm against the table. “Just rotten,” she whispers.

  The female officer speaks first. “When you say, Abigail, do you mean Libby?”

  Rose scoffs at the question, folding her arms and looking away. “Libby? Heavens, no. When I say Abigail, I mean Abigail.”

  “Who’s Abigail, Rose?”

  “My daughter of course. Are you even listening to me?”

  I pause the video and look at Damian.

  “Who’s Abigail, and what does this have to do with Libby?”

  Damian scratches the back of his neck.

  “Abigail is Rose's daughter.” He hesitates for a moment, and I can feel the shift in the air around us. It's heavy and leaves me uneasy. “She died nearly thirty years ago.” He points to the laptop. “When Rose is talking about Abigail in this video, she's talking about Libby. She thinks Libby is her daughter, Abigail.”

  What the fuck…

  “When we told her that Abigail had been dead for decades, that Libby wasn’t her daughter, she lashed out.”

  “How… Why does she—” I can't form a complete thought with all the competing questions in my mind. How the fuck could anyone be this insane? How could she think that her Libby was her dead daughter? Why…

  Damian stands up and walks around the desk. He leans in and moves the cursor, skipping ahead a few minutes before starting the clip again.

  “They were wicked people,” Rose begins. “How could they just take my Abigail away from me? She wasn't happy there. Some days she'd come over, and I'd give her a little treat. She'd tell me about Margaret.” There’s a sharp edge to her voice when she mentions my mother’s name.

  A few seconds later, she smiles. Her lips tremble as the smile deepens. “But things always have a way of sorting themselves out in the end.”

  Her face brightens up. “And now Abigail can come live with me again. When can I see her? She’s not feeling very well and needs her medicine.”

  “When you say medicine, what kind of medicine are you talking about, Rose?”

  “Oh, this and that.” There's an airy, carefree quality to her voice. It's cheerful, as though someone had just asked her for a recipe. “It's a secret.” She winks, and a chill runs down my spine.

  This is sick, but I can’t pull myself away.

  “How long have you been giving Libby, I mean, Abigail this medicine?”

  The cops are feeding her delusions now, and it’s quickly becoming too much for me to stomach. It’s surreal how twisted this woman is. She talks as though all of this is normal.

  She folds her bony hands in front of her. “She’s always been a sickly child, you know. Always needed her medicine. Always needed me. When can I see her? Is she here?”

  Damian stops the video.

  “This medicine…” He snorts, but I can see he doesn’t find it
amusing. He’s as disgusted as I am. “It’s nothing more than a wicked cocktail of anticonvulsants, barbiturates, and… who the fuck knows what else?”

  He paces in front of me, running a hand through his hair. “We’re still trying to figure out everything she gave to Libby. You wouldn’t believe all the drugs we found in her house.”

  “I’d believe almost anything after this,” I say, shaking my head.

  “Libby had concerns about Margaret poisoning her. We searched her house but found nothing. Herbal remedies, homeopathic medicine, sure, but nothing like the pharmacy we found at Rose’s house. Barbiturates, amphetamines, insulin, opiates, blood thinners, ketamine, anticonvulsants, antidepressants, and some really wicked stuff called succinylcholine. You name it, we found it.”

  “How’d she do it? How’d Rose kill Margaret?”

  Damian sinks back into his seat with a sigh.

  “Our best guess is that Rose injected something into Margaret. Succinylcholine, most likely, because it's fast-acting and would cause her to collapse. There was a small red mark on her neck that we believe to be the injection point, although we didn't realize it at the time because we were focused on the trauma to her skull. She had blood thinners, the same ones you use, pumping through her, so when she hit her head on the way down, she bled out.”

  Damian rubs his eyes and then looks up at me. “With your altercation. The blood thinners. The lies.” He clears his throat. “Your history. You can see why we…”

  I wave him off. I didn’t need an explanation. Rose tried to set me up, but he didn’t see it until it was too late. It seems clear to me now that I wasn’t the only one getting set up.

  Rose had been poisoning Libby since she and Henry moved in with us. If she was delusional enough to believe Libby was her daughter, then she'd do whatever she could to make Libby hers again. Poison Libby just enough to hospitalize her. She gets better at the hospital, under the care of doctors and nurses. Nothing's wrong. Repeat the cycle again and again until the parents become suspects and eventually, nailed as culprits. In swoops the sweet old lady next door. Of course, I'd love to adopt this poor child…