I Knelt For Three Years For A Lie. Now I’m Back For Blood Chapter 06
When I came to, the ceiling was a blinding, sterile white.
No reek of old piss. No padded walls. Just the sharp, clean sting of antiseptic.
A real hospital.
I tried to move. A jagged bolt of pain shot from my left leg and tore through my ribs.
“You’re awake?”
I turned my head. Every muscle felt like frayed wire.
A woman in a white coat stood there, her hair cropped short and sharp.
“You got lucky. The ground floor cafeteria is being renovated. And you landed on a mountain of acoustic foam mats.”
“One shattered leg, three cracked ribs. You should be dead.”
I survived.
I tried to speak, but my throat was a graveyard.
She set the chart down and checked the hallway. Then she leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper.
“I’m Dr. Reyes. I’m your attending.”
“I saw your transfer files from the ‘rehab center.’ Then I ran your bloodwork.”
She pulled a slim digital recorder from her pocket, turning it over in her fingers.
“The level of antipsychotics in your system is enough to drop a horse. But your reflexes are perfect. “
“You’re not sick, Mia. You’re being buried.”
My heart hammered against my broken ribs. I locked eyes with her.
“The people who brought you in… they’re in the director’s office right now. They want you back in that cage the second you can sit up.”
“Your brother already did his interview in the lobby. Tears, cameras, the whole show. “
“He told the press you jumped because your ‘schizophrenia’ finally won. He’s making you the poster child for tragedy.”
A cold, murderous heat flooded my chest.
They couldn’t even let me die in peace. They had to turn my broken bones into another payday.
“Will you… help me?” The words were a ragged scrape.
Dr. Reyes narrowed her eyes.
“I don’t do ‘help.’ I just hate butchers. And I hate people who use my profession to silence the sane.”
She slid the recorder under my pillow.
“Keep this hidden. If they think you’re a lunatic, give them exactly what they want.”
“Men say things in front of a ‘madwoman’ that they’d never whisper in the dark. Use it.”
Her words were a lightning strike.
She was right. I’d already hit the ground once. What was left to fear?
Footsteps echoed in the hall. Dr. Reyes stood up instantly, her face turning to stone.
“Vitals are stable. Cognitive function is… questionable.”
She said it to Marcus and Owen as they pushed through the door.
Marcus rushed to my side, his face a mask of shattered grief. It was a beautiful performance.
“Mia… baby, why? Why would you do this?”
He reached out to touch my hair.
I didn’t flinch.
I just stared at the ceiling, my eyes vacant. I let my jaw slacken and allowed a thin string of drool to leak from the corner of my mouth.
I made a soft, meaningless gurgling sound in the back of my throat.
Owen saw it and recoiled, his face twisting in disgust.
“Doctor… is she gone? Is her brain fried?”
Dr. Reyes didn’t blink.
“Concussion on top of her existing psychosis. Expect heavy regression. She might not even know who you are.”
I saw the relief flash across Marcus’s face.
It was instantaneous. The fear of what I might say was gone.
“So… when can we take her back? To the center?”
“Bones need time. Two weeks, minimum.” Dr. Reyes closed her chart and walked out.
The second the door shut, the grief fell off Marcus’s face like a discarded rag.
He wiped the hand that had touched me on his trousers, looking at me with pure revulsion.
“Tough little bitch, aren’t you? Even the pavement didn’t want you.”
Owen pulled up a chair, loosening his tie. The ‘distraught friend’ was gone. He looked bored.
“Whatever. Like this—drooling and braindead—she’s actually easier to manage.”
He leaned back, a smug grin spreading across his face.
“You have no idea how much the followers jumped after you hit the ground, Mia.”
“‘The Pilgrim Girl’s Final Act.’ We hit the trending page. Overnight, we made enough in donations to buy that second house.”
I lay there, holding that vacant, idiotic smile while my soul burned.
Under the blanket, my thumb found the ‘record’ button. And I pressed down.