I forced myself to eat most of it.
She reaches out and brushes my hair out of my eyes. “I’ll be so glad when you’re home. It’ll be easier to monitor what you’re eating.”
I’m a type 1 diabetic, have been since I was a baby. It’s why my birth parents put me up for adoption They were still in high school when they got pregnant with me, and apparently they didn’t feel like they could handle my medical needs. I guess no one in my birth mom’s family did either. All I know about my dad was that he was a foreign exchange student—I don’t even know what country he was from. I doubt his family even knew I existed.
I went into state custody, and eventually I ended up with the Alexanders. They were experienced with at-risk adoptions. They already had a son, Ian, who came from a situation of severe abuse and neglect.
And somehow, piecing together all of us with our different medical and emotional needs and past traumas, my parents formed a loving, supportive family.
I love my family. I just feel bad that they’re saddled with me and all my baggage. The diabetes is bad enough, but it’s doable. We’ve gotten really good at managing it over the years. But the voice… the auditory hallucinations… she complicates everything. She’s inexplicable. We don’t know where she came from or why she’s here. Most people who have auditory hallucinations do so because of past trauma, but I’ve been raised from birth in a loving family. Yes, I suffer from anxiety, and yes, I have low self-esteem. And recently, I survived a horrifyingly traumatic event, but I can’t point at anything from my past as a source of trauma.
She first appeared about two years ago, after I graduated high school. She came out of nowhere, her biting criticism and scathing taunts filling my head, tormenting me, making my life unbearable at times.
A lot of people hear voices. Some hear just one, most hear many. For me, it’s just the one—so far at least—and she’s a mean, spiteful bitch. I think of her as the monster who inhabits my head. She exists just to cut me down, to ridicule me. I do my best to shut her out, but she’s persistent.
In the beginning, I tried drowning her out with alcohol, but that only got me into huge trouble with my parents because alcohol combined with type 1 diabetes is especially dangerous. I’ve tried cutting myself, but that does nothing to quell the monster. It just hurts a lot, and my family goes into a tizzy when they find out. The only thing that helps me cope is listening to music. I use music to try to drown her out. I also run on the treadmill, as if I can outrun her. That never works, of course.
I take psychiatric medication, and that does help, but it doesn’t eliminate the voice completely.
I notice my Dad’s not here. He’s usually wherever Mom is. I tease them about being attached at the hips. “Where’s Dad?”
“He’s out in the hall talking to your new bodyguard. Have you met Jason yet?”
I nod. “He came in yesterday to say hello.”
“What do you think?”
Honestly, I wouldn’t know. “It was dark last night. I couldn’t really see him.”
“Your brother and Tyler went home to do laundry and grab a bite to eat. Your dad and I will be here until around ten, when Ian and Tyler should be back. I wish we could be here more, but our work schedules don’t allow it. I’m just grateful Ian and Tyler’s schedules are more flexible at the moment.”
I feel terrible for all the trouble I’m putting my family through. Mom and Dad are spending their only free hours here with me, and Ian and Tyler are with me the rest of the time, day and night. It’s not fair to any of them.
Why do you think they hired someone to babysit you? So they don’t have to do it themselves.
I hate to admit it, but she’s right for a change. I should just let the new bodyguard do his job. Then my family can go back to living their lives and stop sacrificing themselves for me.
Chapter 4
Jason Miller
After Ian and Tyler return around ten p.m., Layla’s parents leave. I feel like a fifth wheel hanging out in the hallway. I hate that I can’t do my job, but she’s just not ready. I requisition a chair from a nearby waiting room and get comfortable outside her door. I want to be close in case she needs something or asks for me. So far, no one’s given me any grief about it. Layla’s nurses smile at me as they come and go from her room. Except for giving me a few come-hither looks and one invitation to grab coffee after her shift ends, the nurses pretty much ignore me.
Ian and Tyler are sitting with Layla now, the three of them talking quietly. I can hear the murmur of their voices, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. If I had to guess, I’d say they’re trying to talk her into seeing me again. Or at least letting me come into her room just to say hi.
So far, no luck.
I don’t blame her. Tyler gave me the unedited rundown on what he and Ian found at the warehouse where the abducted girls were being held. When the cops raided the warehouse, they discovered over a dozen young women, naked and chained to beds. Most of them had been raped repeatedly. Layla was found in a storage room, naked, beaten, and chained to a bed. Fortunately, she hadn’t been sexually molested, but the reason for her good luck sends a chill down my spine. Her abductors realized she was worth more as a virgin.
Just the thought sickens me. I’ll never understand how humans can do this to the more vulnerable members of society.
She’d been found wearing a ball gag. The traffickers had likely been trying to keep her quiet, as the trauma of her situation had exacerbated her mental state. The other girls, who were later interviewed extensively by the police, reported that they heard Layla screaming and yelling.
It’s a miracle she survived the ordeal. She’d gone nearly twelve hours without food or insulin, and she was forcibly plied with alcohol and drugs. The poor girl had lost all touch with reality. Now she lies quietly in a hospital bed, under constant supervision.
It should be me in there with her, but we’re not quite there yet.
Layla’s door opens, and Tyler walks out, closing the door behind him. He gives me a nod. “Jason.” He scrubs his hands over his face as he exhales a long breath.
I detect exhaustion beneath that deep, gruff voice. I don’t know how much longer he and Ian can keep up this grueling schedule. “How’s she doing?”
He walks across the hall and leans against the wall directly opposite me. His black hair is disheveled, and he’s wearing a pair of wrinkled black trousers and a white button-up shirt, no tie. There are shadows beneath his dark eyes. “We’re all worried. She’s withdrawn and depressed. Even Ian’s having trouble getting through to her, and he’s her favorite person in the world.” He gives me a bleak look. “You have your work cut out for you.”
“That’s what her dad said.”
Tyler nods down the hallway. “I’m heading to the vending machine to get coffee. Do you want some?”
“No, thanks. I’m fine.”
He pushes away from the wall. “If Ian asks for me, tell him I’ll be right back.”
Tyler returns with two cups of coffee in hand. “Go home and get some sleep. There’s nothing you can do for her tonight. You’re going to have to be patient and wait until she’s ready.”