Chapter 4

The ambulance got there fast.

Paul was rushed to the ER.

After checking him out, the doctor said he was okay. Just an allergic reaction. He needed rest.

Paul lay in the hospital bed, pale and red-eyed, still pretending to be understanding.

"I don't blame him. I really don't.

"He's been through a lot lately. He's emotionally unstable. I get it."

My head snapped up.

Paul wouldn't even look at me. He kept talking to my parents.

"Mr. and Mrs. Guzman, maybe you should get him evaluated. I'm scared he'll hurt himself or someone else if this keeps up."

Mom nodded right away.

"Yeah. He hasn't been himself lately."

Dad looked grim but didn't argue.

I backed up, my throat tightening.

"I'm not sick."

Juliet stood beside the bed, tense like she knew something was off.

But she still didn't defend me.

Dad made a few calls.

That night, they forced me into a private psychiatric facility.

As they dragged me out of Paul's room, I could still hear his weak voice behind me.

I fought the whole way there, trying to explain.

Pinned down in the car, furious tears blurred my vision.

"I'm not sick! You can't just lock me up!

"Juliet, say something!"

I stared at her.

She stayed silent forever before finally whispering, "Just calm down."

Calm down.

Those two words ripped something out of me.

The psychiatric facility was even worse.

Doctors and nurses surrounded me, pinned me down, and gave me an injection.

Pain shot through my body.

I looked up at Juliet.

Then I stopped fighting.

As the medication kicked in, my vision blurred.

I heard Mom whisper nearby.

"Once he's better, we'll explain that we did this for his own good."

Dad murmured in agreement.

After that, their voices faded.

The last thing I remembered was Juliet standing under the lights, her figure blurring out of focus.

Five years together.

Three years living under the same roof.

I'd really wanted to marry her.

I'd pictured the wedding. Kids. A whole life together.

Now, I regretted all of it.

On my first day locked in that private psychiatric facility, I kept trying to explain.

I was still explaining on day two.

By day three, I knew it didn't matter.

The doctor asked why I kept fighting treatment.

"Because I'm not sick."

When a nurse brought me medication, I told her my family had forced me in there.

She just nodded and wrote something down.

[Patient remains emotionally unstable and continues to deny his condition.]

When I refused the meds, the nurses held me down and forced them into my mouth.

When I tried to get out, the orderlies dragged me back.

But the worst was the electroshock treatment.

The first time they took me in, I had no idea what was coming.

The second I saw the equipment, I started shaking.

I backed away, crying.

"I don't want this."

Two orderlies grabbed me while a nurse strapped down my hands.

I fought. Screamed. Did everything I could.

Then the door opened.

Juliet walked in.

I looked at her like she was my last shot.

"Juliet, I'm not sick! Get me out of here!"

She just motioned for the orderlies to hold me down.

"Stop fighting."

In that moment, even my tears stopped.

The injection went in.

Then the current hit.

My whole body seized, and I screamed until my throat was raw.

Afterward, I threw up and could barely stand.

But they still said I wasn't stable enough.

Juliet signed off as my family representative.

After that, I got quieter and quieter.

The more medication they gave me, the foggier my head got.

Sometimes a whole day passed, and I couldn't tell if it was day or night.

If someone asked my age, I had to think about it.

Even my own name took a second.

One day, a nurse put a piece of candy in my hand.

"You were good today. Here's your reward."

I stared at it for a long time.

Didn't move.

***

Third-Person POV

Noah slowly stopped recognizing people.

When his mom, Adaline Guzman, visited, she stood by his bed crying.

Noah just thought she was loud.

His dad, Robert Guzman, came less often.

Each time, he stood in the doorway for a long time.

Noah had no idea who he was.

Juliet scared him even more.

He couldn't remember her, but whenever she showed up, his arm started hurting.

He'd instinctively pull away.

Once, a nurse took Noah outside for some sun.

Juliet stood in front of the bench and called his name, her voice hoarse.

Clutching his stuffed animal, Noah looked at the nurse.

"Who is this lady?"

Juliet went completely still.

But Noah didn't know her anymore.

Then the clinic called.

There'd been a mix-up with the medical report.

It belonged to another man with the same name.

Noah's actual screening results were completely normal.

Juliet was standing in the facility hallway when she heard.

Her phone slipped from her hand.

Her face went white.