Page 95 of Irish Fury
Always and forever a failure, Hannah.
Nothing but an addict and a filthy whore for hire.
Look, I can’t say it’s been fun with you all these years, but I think, we think, it’s time to go.
“No,” she whimpered. “I’ll fix this. I escaped once. I can do it again.”
Too little, too late.
Goodbye, Hannah.
Goodbye, girl.
Bye, bitch.
Goodbye and good riddance.
We won’t meet again.
You’re on your own now.
No one to disappoint but yourself now.
“Please, please, please, please, please,” Hannah begged, tears streaming down her face while her hands fought the restraints.
Oh God, the silence. The absolute stillness inside her head. They were just being mean. They would come back. Any minute.
“Are you there?” she asked, hearing her voice crack and waver.
A nurse appeared over her, a blank expression on her face. “Things will get better from here on out, Ms. Todd. The high dose of meds you’re being injected with now should already be helping to stabilize you. You might be more tired at first, but trust that the doctors have your best interests in mind. Getting free of the fentanyl in your system will also go a long way to steadying you.”
The nurse scurried around the little room like the rat she was, not caring in the slightest that Hannah was truly dying right in front of her.
She couldn’t live without her family of voices. She wouldn’t.
It was all silent now.
A killing silence.
fifty-two
MAGS
It felt sogood to be home, not at Eze’s flat, because Jonathan happened to be a bossy boyfriend and moved her things to his townhouse before she’d taken one step out of the hospital. Currently, Mags was reclining on the boys’ living room couch. The same couch that Jonathan, Daniel, and Ciar had rubbed their manly funk all over for years, and which she and her best friends agreed needed to be thrown out the door during renovations.
Jonathan surprised her that morning by inviting their best friends over for a visit. The laughter was healing after the bomb thing. Mirren had been devastated that Mags had been targeted because of her, which was ridiculous. Her sister had no more control over what happened than that poor, disturbed Hannah Todd.
Already certifiable, the woman had then been abused by her doctor for years. The sick man had exploited his power abominably. Because of that, he’d given Hannah more freedom than she should have had, like a private bathroom. The staffadmitted it was possible she could have easily gotten rid of the antipsychotics without the staff being aware.
Mags’ family found out that Hannah was in the hospital for unrelated health issues, but her new doctor was giving her medications by injection, which wouldn’t allow her to hide or vomit the pills later.
Thomas and Coll reported that Hannah was inconsolable about being left alone by her family.
Her family was the voices, and the medication had silenced them.
Mags shuddered at the hell that woman must have been living in and would probably always live in. Even when she pictured the destruction of her business…not destruction of the actual business, but of her materials; hoops, needles, thread, and the few completed pieces that hadn’t been delivered yet.
But those were only things. She’d been so lucky. The detective who determined the cause of the explosion said that her foot had scooted the bomb sideways just enough that the solid, old, medieval attic door took the brunt of the explosion. In fact, it was the door that had knocked her senseless and tossed her body out of harm's way from the fire.
