Ch. 8

VERA'S POV

Hannah was right. I needed to see a doctor. After everything that has happened, I guess I must have hit my head somewhere without my knowledge and it's taking its toll on me.

When Dr. Halmes sat across from me in his small office, I started thinking of what to say that was wrong with me.

Dr. Halmes office wasn't too small, but the shelves at each side of the office contained records, scientific research papers and books mainly made for doctors. 

The first time I visited this hospital, I was just six years old and I had asked my mom how the doctor would be able to read all that book.

My mother had laughed at me and told me that some of the books are those the doctor read in school and during research, and others are documents or records of people who have been in the hospital before which must be kept for future reference.

"How can he be able to know which book is this or that?" That was a very stupid question for me to ask if I look at now as an adult.

"Sweetheart, they all have names and he sets them according to the date each document is recorded. Don't worry, you will understand all of it soon," my mother knew how curious of a person I was and she had answered me patiently.

Sitting in the doctor's office waiting for him, it reminded me so much of my mother, my beautiful childhood which had ended  following their separation and I was left devastated.

Dr. Halmes set his stethoscope aside, scribbled something on a notepad beside his desktop computer before shifting it aside and folding his hands on the table as his attention was finally on me.

"Miss Santos, how long has it been since we last saw each other? Let me guess, two years ago, huh?" He asked.

"I don't think so. My doctor has lost his fibre to old age, I guess retirement will do you some good. Remember that I dashed in here last fall when I came back from New Orleans." 

"Oh, must be so. Old age is damaging my retentive memory. Welcome back, Miss Santos. It's good to have you back." He grinned, tapping his contact lenses.

I smiled at the once gorgeous face of one of the most good-looking men in Dallas. His face is partly covered by wrinkles.

"How do you do now? Back to your old house or…?" He threw his hands up, demanding I complete the question.

I knew exactly what he meant, and I believe the next question would be about my parents, so I changed the subject.

"I'm doing just fine. Dr. Halmes, I think I'm sick!" 

I think he understood. "How so? Does one think he or she might be sick? If you are not feeling well, tell me what it is or you'd better run tests on your health,"

"How do I explain this…" I sighed. "I don't just feel myself again! Could you believe that I… I…I…" I pinched my cheeks hard and blew out a breath. "I'm simply sick… like, I should visit the psychiatric hospital instead of coming here!" 

He brought his face closer to mine as if he hadn't seen my face before. "I could recommend a good psychiatrist to you. Go on and tell me what makes you think you need to see one."

I nodded my head repeatedly as I said, "I started doing things that don't make sense recently. Something I thought I had gotten over with and probably that's because I don't feel well in my head."

He removed his spectacles to get a closer look at my damned face. "You are not making sense at all. Vera, what happened to you? Is this what New Orleans does to a young lady?" 

"I'm being very serious! Is there anything called impulsive disease? I know that's kinda weird, but I think I might completely go crazy if I continue like this. I really need your help, please," I practically begged him.

"How do you expect me to help you while I don't know what your problem is? Okay, calm down and talk to me. If it's something you don't want me to know, I advise you to take it easy on yourself. You might be alarmed for nothing," he shrugged, touching my hand reassuringly.

Well then, what was I expecting? Why didn't I think about this before coming here? What was going to say anyway? How do I explain the disgusting things I have done with Jackson Taylor to him?

If I should confide in him, what would he think of me? 

"I think I should take my leave now, I disturbed you for no good reason. You can't completely blame me, Hannah suggested I come see you since she feels I am acting strange." I mumbled.

He nodded understandingly. "That's more like Hannah. You are still acting strange, but it's definitely not something that needs medical supervision." 

That was how my visit to Dr. Holmes Specialist Hospital ended. I went home, glad that I was able to clean up the mess from the great fall before going to the hospital. I lay down on my couch and tried to forget about yesterday and today.

The next day, I woke up and realized that I can't wipe or erase the memories of those two days. Even if I was able to, the body aches reminded me of how he ruthlessly devoured me.

I felt weak, dull and stiff. The pain was ten times what I experienced yesterday. When I was at the hospital, I forgot to tell Dr. Halmes about my headache.

It was worse because I slept on the couch. When I forced myself out of the couch to my feet, I stretched myself and went into my bedroom to look for the pain relief spray Hannah gave to me sometime ago.

WRITER'S POV

Vera forced her hands into the new Burberry jacket she received from an unknown person during her birthday last year. 

She had refused to wear the jacket because she didn't know who gave it to her. And the jacket was too expensive for her liking, but she started doing a lot of things which she wouldn't do if she was in the right state of mind recently and wearing the jacket is one of those crazy things.

The jacket wasn't the only present she got from an unknown person, there's also love letters and flowers sent to her on the 5th of every month. 

She was scared at first, but waved it aside since half of the stuff in her house were gifts from people she knows. So a single lily flower each month shouldn't matter if the person doesn't want to show his or herself.

She tied a tiny Burberry scarf to go with it as she watched herself in the standing mirror. Her black handbag would match the black high heel shoes.

She sprayed the pain relief liquid on her shoulder again. Then grabbed her bag and the resignation letter beside it on the bed.

"Vera, let's do this!" She gave herself thumbs up and smiled.

Walking out of her bedroom, she closed the door firmly and believed her problems and anything that might hinder her submitting the resignation letter of a job she thinks might render her life useless has been locked inside there.

As she took the stairs down, she stumbled and almost slipped down the stairs, but her hands flew to the railing in time to save her a swoop.

Gasping and disgusted by that, she slowly went down the stairs and sat down on the base of the stairs to catch her breath.

"That was close!" She exclaimed and stood up to leave. "No matter what happens, I must stop what I started! I told that old man that I am sick and he didn't want to understand. Do I blame him?" 

She continued murmuring to herself as she went outside her door, her keys fell down when she tried to lock the door with shaking fingers.

"What's all this?!" She cursed and bent down to pick up the keys, to her surprise, a red envelope greeted her eyes first.

Goosebumps skittered all over her body when she picked it and saw the contents. A black lily flower and a white paper with a signal scribbled on it.

Wild-eyed, she hurried to Nathan's door and banged on it. 

"Nathan!? Are you in there?!!" She called, pressing the doorbell frantically as her left hand still hit the door.