Don't Open The Door by Cole Baxter

Author:Cole Baxter [Baxter, Cole]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 22

“Hello?” Malcolm picked up after the first ring.

“Malcolm,” Samson greeted in a small voice.

“Oh my God, Samson, where are you?” he asked, the relief obvious in his voice.

“I need you to come and pick me up,” Samson said before he could change his mind.

“Of course. Tell me where you are, and I’m there,” Malcolm reassured Samson like he knew he would. He was a true friend.

Samson looked around, trying to orient himself, and then spotted a street sign and recited it.

“Damn, you sure can run fast,” he commented.

“Hurry,” Samson prompted, feeling like everything depended on this night.

“I’m on my way.”

They disconnected.

Samson put down the phone and sat on the curb to wait for his friend. It was an exceptionally lovely night. Peaceful; almost quiet. Even the bad smells that were so rooted in the city weren’t present.

He tried hard not to think about anything personal. Samson realized his thoughts were pretty poisonous at the moment, and if he continued to let them run wild, he feared he would end up back on that bridge. If something like that happened, he was convinced that this time around he would finish the job and jump without holdups.

“There you are,” Malcolm greeted, parking the car in front of him.

Sighing, Samson stood up. Malcolm looked at him warily, like Samson could snap at any second. He wasn’t wrong. Samson felt unstable, raw, and close to the edge, which was why he’d called his best friend in the first place.

Samson got into the car. “I need you to take me to a hospital.”

Malcolm’s eyes widened. “Are you hurt?”

“Yes,” he said simply. He was hurt, just not in the way Malcolm expected. Samson’s head hurt, and he needed to fix it if he ever planned on functioning like a normal human being.

About an hour later, he was evaluated and then committed to a mental hospital for observation. He didn’t even have to tell the attending doctor what had happened with those demon girls; Mentioning he was on a bridge and wanting to jump did the trick.

Samson got a nice little room to himself. He didn’t like the part where he was stripped naked and handed a nightgown to wear but sucked it up.

He sat on the bed not knowing what to do. What was expected of him? When will the healing start?

Then a nurse came in and introduced himself as Steve. Steve was built like a linebacker and approached him with a needle.

“What’s that?” Samson demanded, retreating.

“A mild sedative. Something to make you relax. Doctor’s orders.”

“I don’t think I need it,” he protested.

“You can discuss that tomorrow with your doctor.”

That he had to take the shot tonight was implied.

Perfect. The last thing he needed right now was someone else making decisions about his life without regard for him and his emotions, desires, and wants. First, those girls came and raised havoc. Because they wanted to party, they’d drugged and raped him, and there was nothing he could do about it. Then, Teresa decided to divorce him without hearing his side of the story.

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