One thing I’m sure of, the more time we spend together, the more I want her to be mine. The key—Deacon—to having the woman who owns my heart, is a mental train wreck. There is no way in hell I would bring up how I feel about his sister while he’s recovering. If anything, that would slow his progress.
I love only three people in this world, and Deacon, my best friend, and brother in blue is one of them. Seeing him with my own two eyes was a rude awakening. Besides transients or drugged out freaks that I’ve had to arrest, I’ve never been around someone emotionally or mentally unstable.
I feel helpless, which is foreign to me, and it’s starting to fuck with my mental well-being. I don’t know what I can offer to help Deacon heal. If Britney can’t get through to him, I don’t think anyone could.
One thing is for certain, once the hospital releases him, I’m going to stay with him, or he is going to stay with me. There’s no way in hell I’m leaving him alone. Until he gets the all-clear from the police department psychiatrist, I’ll hold him hostage if need be.
Britney finally stops pacing and places her phone on the rolling table that’s on what is now her side of the bed. She climbs onto my bed, lying down next to me. Clutching my hand, Britney holds onto it and closes her eyes. I know she’s not sleeping because her worry lines are back, which tells me she is still thinking of how to get through to her brother. Something tells me she won’t rest until he’s out of here.
20
Deacon
“Listen to your doctor so I can take you home,” are the words my sister has said to me repeatedly, and it is my daily mantra.
It’s been two weeks since I was admitted—or rather, committed—to the psychiatric ward at the hospital, and it’s been two weeks of mind-numbing medication that, surprisingly, is helping me talk my way out of here. I may not have been the most responsive person, but I’ve heard every word Britney has said to me since my mental breakdown.
Getting out of this place is my main objective. I’m well aware of the fact that my mind isn’t what it should be, but with each day that passes, I feel like I’m another day closer to a padded room. I’m stuck in a place with people who are diagnosed schizophrenics, and when we’re all in the same room, I feel like I’m becoming one of them. It’s fucking craziness, no pun intended.
Besides my daily one-on-one sessions with Dr. Harrison, I also attend an hour of group therapy. I’ll be honest; the group sessions do nothing for me. I get that everyone has their bag of shit to deal with, and I can’t pretend to understand them just like they can’t begin to understand the mental anguish that is my torture, not even the doctors. But I sit, I listen, and I speak when asked to participate.
My parents have come to visit every day since the doctor lifted my visitor ban. They bring dinner, and that’s our time to catch up. The first couple of days were tricky as I muddled through the medicated fog. We learned early on that any news about what’s happening as a result of that fucked-up day is not in my best interest, so they tell me about their day. I sit. I smile. I listen to whatever topic my parents want to talk about, and then I tell them what I feel they need to hear to help ease their minds.
Kade was released from the hospital a couple of days after he and Britney snuck in to see me. Since driving is still a restriction on his post-op instructions, he comes to visit with my sister, but they take turns seeing me. Even through my medicated mind, I can see that Kade isn’t falling for my act. He knows I’m struggling to keep my shit together, but says nothing to discourage me from trying to get out of the hospital. He’s the only one I’ve confided in about the crazy people in here.
Britney, unlike my parents, is much harder to convince that I’m doing better. She knows what she’s told me to do, and I can see her struggle with whether or not I’m being truthful, or if I’m pretending. I want to tell her not to trust this version of me, but I never know who’s lurking and will report back to the doctor.
“Don’t try to fight it, D. There was nothing I could say or do to change Kade’s mind,” Britney pleads when we pull up to Kade’s house instead of mine.
It took me a month to get out of the crazy ward, and now my best friend is going to babysit me. Being watched over like a child is bullshit. I want to be left alone. I want to be in my home, with my things, in my bed. I don’t need another person hovering over me.
“Can’t you stay with me at my house?” I ask, hoping that my sister is my alternate option.
“I suggested that. Kade seems to think you have me fooled like everyone else.” She shifts in her seat so she can look into my eyes. Sadly, she’s right. I do have her fooled, but I won’t admit that.
“I’m fine, Brit. Really. I have all of my follow-up therapy sessions scheduled at the doctor’s private practice, and all the meds just like I was taking in the hospital. Besides, isn’t he still recovering?”
“D, don’t fight me on this. You won’t win. Kade is fine. He’s healthy and close to being fully recovered. You know he’s a freak of nature.”
Like a child throwing a tantrum, I open the door to her car and kick it with my foot causing it to swing back harder than intended. Once I’m out of the vehicle, I slam the door shut. Britney is standing on the other side of her car, giving me her death stare but says nothing. I’ll admit that was uncalled for, and I feel bad for doing it, but I don’t apologize.
As we begin our short trek toward Kade’s front door, the left one swings open, and out comes a German Shepherd fluff ball with little legs and floppy ears. The puppy stumbles its way down the front steps, stopping at my feet before it proceeds to pee on my shoes.
“I should have warned you. Dexter likes to pee on feet.” Kade laughs as he approaches. “It’s good to see you out of the hospital, man.” He smiles and leans in for bro-hug.
My sister is holding the puppy and laughing as it licks her face. She’s talking to the furball like it’s a human baby. In the past, something like this would warm my heart and make me smile, but that’s not who I am anymore. I’m a monster. I get people killed.
“Since when are you a dog person?” I ask. Kade has never been one for pets. He said they’re too demanding of his time, so why have one now?
“The department therapist told me I needed something to focus on other than my best friend. She suggested a therapy dog.”
“Dude, that’s a puppy, not a dog.”
“D, here, hold him,” my sister commands as she passes off the dog to me.
“I have a dog trainer that comes three times a week, and once Dex has his beginner and intermediate training complete, we will start working on his service dog training.”
Now that I’m holding the squirmy little dog, I can’t deny he is cute. He’s a black and tan shepherd with long fur and a face that looks like he’s wearing a black mask. When I look into his little eyes, it’s like he senses something in mine and nuzzles into me.
No. This dog is not in my plan. I cannot get attached, but boy, do I want to. I set him down, and we all head into the house.