Chapter 1 - THE SILENT ALARM
The button did not make a sound.
There was no siren.
No flashing light.
Only a tiny vibration beneath my thumb.
My mother never noticed.
She raised the broken blood pressure monitor above her head again.
My father remained in front of the door, blocking the narrow window with his body.
Connor stood against the wall, pale and frozen.
“You will sign those papers,” Evelyn said.
Her voice was quiet now.
That frightened me more than her screaming.
Blood ran past my ear and soaked the collar of my hospital gown.
The room spun around me.
I could barely see her face, but I could see the determination in her eyes.
She was going to strike me again.
Then the door exploded inward.
Two hospital security officers forced my father aside.
A nurse rushed between my mother and the bed.
Another officer grabbed Evelyn’s wrists before the monitor could come down.
The machine crashed onto the floor.
Connor shouted and pressed himself against the wall.
My father immediately lifted his hands.
“This is a misunderstanding,” he said.
My mother fought against the security officer.
“My daughter is confused,” she screamed.
“She attacked me.”
The nurse stared at the blood running down my face.
“With what?” she demanded.
Evelyn stopped struggling.
My father looked toward the folder lying open across my blanket.
Connor’s face turned even whiter.
The security officers pulled my parents away from the bed.
A doctor rushed in behind them.
He pressed gauze against my head while another nurse examined the IV line that had been torn loose.
“Maya, stay with me,” the doctor said.
“Can you tell me your full name?”
“Maya Whitaker.”
“Do you know where you are?”
“Lakefront Medical Center.”
My mother twisted toward him.
“She is heavily medicated.”
“She does not understand what happened.”
I forced my eyes open.
“She hit me.”
My father shook his head.
“Maya, you fell against the equipment.”
I looked at him through the blur.
He had watched his wife lift a machine over my head.
He had blocked the window so no one outside could see.
Now he was rewriting the truth before my blood had even dried.
The doctor shone a light into my eyes.
My stomach rolled.
The ceiling tilted.
Before darkness took me, I saw a small black circle near the upper corner of the room.
A tiny red light glowed beneath it.
The camera was still recording.
Every word.
May you like
Every movement.
Every lie.
