Deviant

"Okay, so aside from the obvious conversation we should not need to have about you making smart choices, why are you cheering your nails off over this guy? You haven't heard a peep out of him since this happened?"

"No."

"So what?"

"So…he kind of kissed me."

"Ah.”

"And it was kind of while…" I take a deep breath. Here goes nothing. "While he kind of had me pinned up against the wall…with his hand around my throat." Pippa’s eyes are probably the most expressive part of her body—they almost double in size.

"He attacked you?"

"It was more of a threat."

"Why on earth would he do that?"

"He doesn't want his friend to be sectioned. Probably thought I could pull some strings and have the whole incident brushed under the carpet."

She snorts. "Well, good luck with that, buddy. Girl tries to kill herself, she gets automatic couch time with a professional at the very least. But anyway, he forcefully kissed you?"

"No. I sort of…allowed that."

"Fuck, Sloane. I don't know, this almost sounds like grounds to call the cops to me. Why the hell did you let him do that? Is he unhinged? Are you unhinged?"

I let out a bitter laugh. "That's a possibility on both counts."

She laces her fingers together, frowning. She's not supposed to frown; it gives too much away. "You already know what I'm going to say to you, don't you?"

"Yeah. I do." I sigh. The weight of this whole thing is an impossible burden on my shoulders. It feels good to have shared even a small part of it, and I’m not done yet. "There’s something else, Pip. He might know something about Alexis."

This information freezes her in her seat. I don't often talk about Lex; I rarely even mention her name, so the fact that I've brought her up now is a really big deal. "How?" she asks calmly. "Did this guy have something to do with her disappearance? Oh my God."

"No. Or at least I don't think he did. I can't…I can't really explain it right now."

She doesn't like that, not one bit. She huffs out a long breath, staring at me like have gone mad. "I have a bad feeling about this, Sloane. Aside from the fact that you still know nothing about this guy—” she pauses, as though something has just occurred to her. "Do you even know his name now?" I shake my head, no. She looks mortified. "Okay, well he hasn't offered any information to the cops about Lex being snatched, and you won't tell me how you think he might know this mystery information. That leads me to believe he is probably involved in some bad shit. Up to his neck in it, no doubt. And he tried to choke the life out of you?"

“I know," I tell her miserably. When she puts it that way, it really does sound pretty messed up.

"I know you want to find her, but this guy sounds dangerous. It sounds as if he's more likely to stab you than help you find Lex. I want you to stay away from him, okay? There's no way you should have anything to do with him. Please, Sloane? For me?"

I bury my face into my coffee cup. I knew she would do this; I knew exactly what she would say, and I’m kind of relieved to be honest. It's like I have permission to avoid him like the plague now, even though he might have some idea where my sister is. I should just tell the police that he practically admitted to hurting Eli yesterday and then they can do all of the questioning. I can stay the hell out of it entirely.

"Okay, yes, you're right. I'll stay away from him,” I say. But for some reason, I don't tell her that he is returning to the hospital tomorrow. I don't tell her that he promised he'd come looking for me.

The unsettled feeling lingering within me is a mixture of guilt and anticipation. I’ve never been one to lie or to hide things, and it’s all too worrying that the only things I’ve kept from my best friend are related to this guy. I can’t help but wonder, am I asking for trouble by keeping secrets? It seems like a futile argument; where he is concerned, I sense that trouble is going to find me regardless.

******

The morning drags unbearably as I try to stretch out my rounds, doing my best to make my other patients’ needs more time consuming than they need to be. Eventually I can't put it off any longer, though. I've done everything that needs doing and since Dr Patel is off today, that makes the girl my responsibility.

Carrie is sleeping when I go to her room, and she's not alone. Kim Perez is from psych, an incredibly lovely woman. She is motherly and warm, the first person they send down here when a kid needs assessing. Carrie’s no kid, but they obviously figured she’d respond to a maternal presence.

"Hey, Sloane,” she whispers, putting Carrie’s chart back into the slot at the end of her bed. "Heard you performed quite the miracle with this one."

"Suresh did most of the work." I smile, returning the same warmth she shows to me.

"Poor girl." She turns to look at Carrie; the girl’s definitely a little worse for wear. There are dark purple rings around her eyes, and her skin is still a deathly white. "I'm just waiting for her to decide to wake up. Any idea how long I'm going to be hanging around?"

"She's not sedated anymore. Could be a couple of hours, could be a day or more. She was in a pretty bad way."

Kim wraps her arms around her body and tuts, frowning at the young woman in the bed. She always takes these things to heart, no matter that she has never met the patient before. "People say that suicide’s the coward's way out, but they couldn't be more wrong. It takes nerves of steel to commit like she did. It's good that she is here now, though. She can get the rest she needs, hopefully develop a different perspective on things. She'll have a whole team of people on hand just waiting to help her."