Page 62 of Possessive Sinner
The nurse complies. I watch it all from a step back. Out of the way. But not uninvolved.
Just when Stacy is all settled in, after several more blankets are brought in, surrounding her just right, she announces, "I need the bathroom."
The room pauses. A doctor glances at the monitors. "Ma'am, we'd prefer to run imaging first?—"
"I need the bathroom," she repeats.
Not louder. Not panicked. Just demanding.
The entire room shifts again. Two nurses step in. "Okay, let's get you unhooked for a moment?—"
Wires are disconnected. The IV gets adjusted. Three techs roll in with portable equipment—X-ray, ultrasound—they stop when they see the situation. Without a word, they wait. Everyone is waiting.
On her.
Audra steps forward. "I've got her."
Stacy clutches her hand immediately. "You help me."
Not the nurses. Not the staff. Her.
The nurses exchange a look but step back. Audra helps her sit up slowly, carefully, murmuring something soft I don't quite catch. I watch. And I understand. This isn't just need. It's control. Subtle. Effortless. She doesn't raise her voice. Doesn't demand loudly. Doesn't create a scene. But somehow, she has two doctors, three nurses, and three techs standing by, waiting on her next word.
Impressive.
And dangerous.
My gaze sharpens. Because I recognize it. Manipulation. Not the sloppy kind. Not desperation. This is precision. She knows exactly what she's doing. And she's very, very good at it. My eyes flick to Audra as she's helping her mother. Steadying her. Already bending around her needs without question. Yeah. That tracks. A familiar irritation settles low in my chest. Not at the situation. At the pattern. Because I've seen this before, too. People who take. And people who give.
The ones who take?
They don't stop.
And the ones who give?
They don't stop either.
Not until there's nothing left. My body tightens. Audra just lost her husband. Watched him die. Nearly died herself. And here she is, holding her mother together. Again.
If Stacy breaks her now… my thoughts cut off sharply. I don't deal in hypotheticals. I deal in outcomes. And right now, she's still standing. Still functioning. Still fighting. I can't decide which concerns me more. The woman manipulating everyone around her, or the one holding her hand.
A few hours later, the chaos settles. Or at least it pretends to. The machines still hum. Nurses still move in and out. But the urgency is gone. Replaced by something worse: waiting.
I stand off to the side, arms crossed, watching. Audra sits in a chair next to the bed, her hand wrapped around her mother's. She looks… wrecked. Pale. Exhausted. Like if she lets go for even a second, she'll collapse.
A doctor fussed over the bruise on her face earlier. Turned to me. Opened his mouth, but when he saw my expression, he thought better of it. And closed it without voicing whatever he was going to say.
Now I step out into the hallway and corner another one. "What's the situation?"
He exhales, already looking tired. He runs a hand over the back of his neck. "Everything looks… fine."
My eyes narrow. "Define fine."
"Her kidneys are a little off. Blood pressure is elevated. But nothing that explains what you described." He hesitates. "All tests came back negative."
"So no stroke?"
"Nothing we could confirm," he admits.
