Saving Meghan(73)

I stood up. I took off my headphones.

“I’ll do it,” I announced in a loud voice.

All conversation came to a grinding halt.

“Do what, darling?” Mom asked.

“The muscle biopsy,” I said. “I’ll do it. I want it done. I want it done now. I want to show you all just how sick I am. Because I am sick! You just don’t see it.”

My mom closed her eyes and pressed her hands together like a thank-you for answering her prayers. We had talked about getting the biopsy before my kidnapping, but obviously, it had taken on new importance. Honestly, I should have demanded it the first night I was here, but I’d been a little out of sorts and was holding out hope for another solution because they couldn’t sedate me during the procedure.

I’m not entirely sure why I had to be awake, but it had something to do with how anesthesia messes up the sample. I do know that I could have refused to have the biopsy, created a big fuss, and since it wasn’t going to save my life, I probably would have gotten my way. Maybe not, maybe my parents would have gone to court, or they could have restrained me, held me down, but that’s irrelevant now because I was all in.

Cut me. Get it done, and get me the eff out of here.

Mom started toward me looking happier than I could remember as I felt a familiar cramping in my stomach. My head began to tingle, too.

Oh no, I thought. Not again.

My insides tightened as if a pair of hands were squeezing my organs. Even my lungs felt compressed. The room began to spin. I took a staggering step toward my mother and sank to the floor, clutching at my abdomen. Dad looked at me oddly, almost detached, as if he was not surprised to see me on my knees and in distress.

Mom’s walk became a run, and eventually Dad came over to me as well.

“Baby, is everything all right?” she asked, caressing my hair. Her voice sounded so far away.

“Get her some help!” my mom screamed at the room.

Another violent spasm rocked me. I groaned in pain. Knox Singer, Jill Mendoza, and Dr. Nash looked at me like I should be getting an Oscar for this performance. None of them came to my aid. Through a haze of tears, I saw the Mendoza lady holding Kelly London back. A fresh cramp came on so intensely that I couldn’t breathe through the pain. I fell over onto the cold linoleum floor, curling into a fetal position, clutching at my stomach. My heart was beating funny—too fast, and then too slow. I was dizzy. Everyone looked blurry.

“Get her some help!” Mom screamed as she cradled me in her arms. “You think she’s faking? You think she’s making this all up? Look at her! Look how goddamn sick she is, you monsters! Do something! Do something!”

Dr. Nash looked to Jill Mendoza, not my mom. “I suggest our protocol,” I heard Nash say.

“Yes, that’s fine. Get her back to her room.”

I had no idea what their “protocol” was, but then I saw two big orderlies, including Mustache Man, coming toward me with purpose. One of them pulled Mom off me like he was breaking up a street fight. He held her in his massive arms. She was kicking, screaming, spitting wildly. The other orderly picked me up like I weighed nothing.

“We planned for this, Mrs. Gerard,” Dr. Nash said to my wailing mother as the orderly carried me away. “If Meghan experienced another crisis with you in the room, we agreed to examine her, but we’re not going to treat her. We are not going to feed her delusion or yours, is that understood?”

My mom broke free from the orderly’s death grip. I managed to resist being taken away, dragging my feet to delay departure, just long enough to see Mom get in Nash’s face.

“My daughter is sick, and you won’t help! We’re in a hospital, and you won’t do anything! How can you?” My vision may have been blurred, but I could see Mom looking at Dad to do something.

“Leave it be, Becky,” he said.

And that’s when I knew. That’s when all doubt left me. My dad was gone. He believed them, not me. It was just Mom and me now. We were a duo. We were in this alone. I guess that’s how it’s always been.

I cried out for my mom one last time. One more time the pain came, like fire burning inside me so hot and intense, I thought my heart would melt. Weak as I was, I managed to lift my arm. I stretched it out as far as I could. My mom came toward me, but everyone blocked her way, including my dad.

She blew me kisses with tears in her eyes. “We’ll do the test,” she said.

I blew a kiss back to her, and then everything went black.





CHAPTER 33





BECKY


Tomorrow was the big day: Meghan was scheduled to have the muscle biopsy done. Becky wondered if she was as nervous as her daughter. She was in her upstairs office, online as usual, using Meghan’s computer to answer a reporter’s questions since hers was still with those detectives. She startled when her cell phone rang. Sabrina. Becky thought of sending the call to voice mail, but had a feeling her mother might in fact be dead this time.

“Hi, Sabrina,” Becky said flatly. “So?”

“Hi to you, too,” said Sabrina. “And no. Mom’s still with us.”

Becky was not sure how she felt, but relieved was not one of her emotions. “Any change?”

“No, not really,” Sabrina said. “Seems like you’ve been busy. You can’t seem to stay off the news these days.”