Deadly Dozen 2 by Diane Capri & Brett Battles & Robert Gregory Browne & J Carson Black & Cheryl Bradshaw & Joshua Graham & Allan Leverone & Carol Davis Luce & Aaron Patterson & Michele Scott & Vincent Zandri & Cory Clubb & Jack Patterson

Author:Diane Capri & Brett Battles & Robert Gregory Browne & J Carson Black & Cheryl Bradshaw & Joshua Graham & Allan Leverone & Carol Davis Luce & Aaron Patterson & Michele Scott & Vincent Zandri & Cory Clubb & Jack Patterson [Capri, Diane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Green E-Books
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

PART NINE: December 21st 1975

The mind, that tricky little devil, was up to old unpopular tricks again. I was beginning to grow weary of it. Ben told me again just before he fell asleep that night about the black nurse and how she would offer him medicine and he thought if he took it, he would die. I was trying to have an open mind, but the darn number 19 kept showing up and than the roses and now a mysterious nurse, a murderous nurse to boot.

Okay, one thing at a time. No more roses, that was good. But what was with 19 steps from the front lobby to the elevator doors? Or the 19 channels on the lame TV in Ben’s room? The 19 drips of whatever they had him on before the frightful machine reset and made its annoying beeping sounds again—19 beeps. Was it all in my head, or was there something to this number? Then there was the so-called nurse. She didn’t say that she would kill him; she offers him medicine and aid. Not a knife. Why was I losing it? My mind felt like it was spinning non-stop and I wanted it to stop.

I wondered if Ben was seeing things, if it was all in his head. The stroke must have set off something in his brain. But he was always the practical one, the guy who could see any problem and figure out a sensible solution. But why a black nurse? He could have seen anyone, but he knew what she looked like, what she wore, even the color of her nail polish.

We went for another walk around the hospital, and Ben did great. What a stud. He still had it after all these years. It made me feel better knowing that he was on the mend, and I crossed my fingers that this Christmas we would all be together.

Somehow I convinced myself that I was okay, that I was not slipping and that my OCD was just concern over Ben. I found myself counting everything though, and if the number did not add up to 19, I would add something to make it come out to be that stupid idiotic number.

I drank a sugar-filled coffee because I had to dump 19 packets of the stuff into it before my mind would let me rest. I counted my steps, the light poles between our house and the hospital, the turn signal flashes on cars in front of me, and on and on it went. I figured it was the stress of Christmas coming up and having the whole family there on top of Ben’s stroke. I hoped that was it, but somehow I knew something more was going on.