Chest Candy

Chapter 29 Alison

Alison was starting to feel like a lab rat. She'd been poked, prodded and questioned more after the attack than when she'd first been admitted. "Can't I go home now?" she asked one of the new doctors. "Nothing happened to me during the attack, and I was supposed to be released yesterday—"

"We need to make sure all of the victims have full psychological clearance."

"Psychological clearance? I spent the whole attack in a closet!" she said, exasperated.

"Yes, but PTSD can occur regardless. It can lead to or exacerbate anxiety attacks, depression, suicidal thoughts—"

"Oh, my God, what's depressing is being held hostage in this place."

"Hostage situations are—"

"I meant right now," she said, crossing her arms. The doctor walked out of her room, angrily snapping the pen into his clipboard.

She'd thought Mason would be brought right back after the meeting with the media, but an officer had told her he'd been whisked away by the FBI. She continued to watch the playbacks of his comments on the television. "My girlfriend." That's what he'd called her.

"You have phone clearance," an officer told her, walking into her room and handing her a Ziploc bag with her phone and charger in it.

"Thank God." When they'd confiscated all electronics and put them on lockdown from outside communication, it had been torture. The landline phones in the ward had been turned off, too.

Plugging in her phone, the missed calls, texts and emails began to pile up. Her parents, Chloe, Noah, Mariana, and of course countless people she vaguely remembered from various classes were desperate to know how she was.

"Call us," were her parents' last text to her.

"What's going on???" Chloe had texted.

"Are you okay? Are you in Ward 5?" Noah had asked.

"Girlfriend?!?!" That was Mariana's last comment.

Alison sighed and looked at Fred. "Are you ready for the circus to start?" she asked. He looked at her quizzically and nestled back into his despondent position. The staff had done their best to drum up food for him, but not even Fred appreciated the hospital food.

Alison called her parents, her mom picking up on the first ring. "Alison! Are you okay? What's happening? When are you—"

"I'm fine," she said. "Totally fine. I spent the entire attack in a closet."

"Oh, thank God," her mom said. "When they wouldn't let us contact you, we didn't know ... we thought maybe they didn't want to tell us ..."

"I'm fine," she repeated, softer. "I should be getting released soon, so—"

"You're free to go," the still-angry doctor snapped at her from the doorway before walking away.

"Actually, right now. Apparently I can go right now."

"We're still here," her mom said. "But it's a madhouse out here."

"They'll probably take me out a back way. I'll call or text you as soon as I figure out where I'm going."

"Okay. I love you, sweetie."

She called Mason next, but it went straight to voicemail. Where was he? There was a good chance he hadn't been given his phone back yet. A nurse bustled in. "I'll need you to sign these discharge papers," she said. "We're short on supplies, but I found a pair of crutches that should do for you," she said, holding up an orthopedic-looking contraption. "You used them before?"