***Trigger Warning***

I hear the other security guards shift in their chairs, waking up to the ruckus. I lift a hand to stop them from coming any closer to me. "Don't worry, I'll be safe. How could I possibly get hurt with the amazing security we have here?"

I seriously need to get control of my mouth. I am just frustrated with the lack of humanity in this place. It was obvious nobody had done the required checks on this patient, his wrist were bloody and raw. I don't necessarily like him either, but it's our job as nurses not to torture people. It's up to God and the law to handle his sins, not us. He isn't even officially convicted until he leaves here and goes to trial. Believe me, I want to punch him in the face for what he did as much as the next guy, but I know better. Recognizing and separating your feelings from your work is truly the hardest part of the job.

I hear the security guards mumble under their breaths as I search for something to moisturize his sore skin. All I can make out is one of them saying something about going with what I say because I'm crazy. Good, at least one of them gets it.

Part of me is afraid of my patient. He is too calm, which means there's a storm to follow. Maybe I should've left him in his restraints. I stop freaking myself out and focus on the task at hand.

"Can I see your wrists? This will help with the raw skin you've got there."

He stays silent, almost as if he can't believe what I'm doing. He is extremely cautious as he moves his wrists in front of me.

He finally speaks when I start applying the moisturizer. "Why are you doing this?" He sounds almost angry, scaring me. The last thing I wanted to do was set him off.

I keep my eyes focused on his wrists and make sure to be extra gentle while applying the lotion to his other wrist. "I don't want your skin to breakdown anymore than it already has."

"I mean, why do you care about my wrist? A lot of people here would like to slit them." He is watching me apply the lotion, making me feel a little self-conscious. I'm so messed up that I'm worried about how a serial killer thinks I look. Some would call this rock bottom.

I can't let him know I'm afraid of him, so I make eye contract once I've finished. "I'm your nurse, it's in the job description." I turn back to prepare the other medicine I need to give him. "Unfortunately, I can't control the other people who work here. Although truthfully, I'd like to." I'm hoping joking will lighten
the mood and make him less defensive. I can only imagine how his experience here has been up until this point. I can't really blame him for not trusting me.

The leader of his pack, older security guard gets behind me. "We better restrain him for those. He gets pretty rowdy when he gets shots."

Brexton sits up straighter, shooting daggers at the security guard. "That's because you idiots were suffocating me and I couldn't breathe."

The security guard ignores him and shrugs at me. "I'm just warning you."

I have seen these guys in action, Brexton could very well be telling the truth. "Umm, let's try giving his wrists a small break. You guys stand close."

They look displeased but don't try to stop me.

I bring the needle to his arm that doesn't have the sleeve tattoo. I'm very aware of the glowing green eyes on me. "Go ahead." He says so softly I am surprised I heard it. I steady my hand and drive it into his arm with precision.

He stretches his arms. "You're so much better than the last nurse who gave me that shot."

I place the needle carefully in the sharps container. "Thank you, maybe you just got used to it." It probably hurt less because he wasn't retrained but I didn't want to put any ideas in his head.

He starts to blink, fighting to keep his eyes open. "Hey Lyra?"

His tired voice saying my name gets my attention immediately. "What's up?"

Brexton gives me a half smile, the Ativan already  taking affect. "His name is Brant."

"Huh?" I ask but he's already out.

We get him back in his restraints and then I leave his room to call the physician.

"Hello." Dr. Simmons answers, his voice weak from age.

I grab my pencil, prepared to write what he says down. "Brexton McGomery in room 209, he needs his Ativan dose decreased. He was barely able to speak after getting it."

Dr. Simmons hums into the phone. "We were suspecting he had prior experience with most drugs so we just gave him a higher dose off the bat."

I was about to loose my cool. "Did you run any blood or urine tests to validate that? He really didn't seem to handle it well."

"No, we didn't but you can feel free to test it. I'll put the orders in now if you'd like. For now, I guess try splitting his dose in half."

I sigh. He already has the drugs we gave him here in his system, so I'm not sure how accurate a drug test would be. I hate that they assumed that he was a drug addict without any proof. I know getting his dose split in half was the best I'd get so I take it. "He's pretty out of it, but if he wakes up I'll see if I can get one. Thanks Dr. Simmons."

As I chart, my mind keeps going back to what he said about some guy named Brant. Who is Brant and what was he trying to tell me about him? I lay my head on the desk in an attempt to stop the incoming migraine.

I visit my other two patients, but they are both about to be discharged so there wasn't much I needed to do for them. The rest of the night was much less eventful than the start had been, not that I'm complaining.

I started to have my doubts, but morning (aka the end of my shift) did come. Lucy, a nurse here for twenty years who has the strength and stubbornness of a horse, is the nurse taking over my assignment. I have never felt so grateful. She is one of the only people here I can stand. She runs a tight ship, but she is more than helpful and more than fair. Not to mention, she is one of the only nurses here who genuinely cares about people. Lucy's patients are always very well taken care of.

She tightens the small blonde bun that's on top of her head and sits down. "Lyra, what's the deal here?"

I shake my head. "I hate to tell you this, but I'm giving you someone in the isolation room who hates his three security guards."

She makes a face. "No one else wants to handle this patient do they? They always give us the dangerous ones because they're a bunch of yellow-belly dingbats."

I never know what's going to come out of Lucy's  mouth but it's always hilarious. "Yep, he's a suspected serial rapist and killer, so God forbid they do his neurovascular assessments. That would mean they'd have to touch a patient who is paying to be here."

She moves her glasses onto the bridge of her nose. "I don't get why anyone would want to hire people to just sit around and gossip, but they have a whole army of them here. Serial killer and rapist, huh?"

I nod. "That's what he's accused of, he goes to trial when he leaves here. Oh, and be careful because security gets very tired and won't protect you from anything. I don't think they were awake my entire shift."

She chuckles, her deep laugh makes me smile. "Please, you and I are the security here."

I cross my one leg over the other. "For real. I got his Ativan decreased too, he was like a zombie."

Lucy makes herself some notes. "Okay, you run while you can."

"Text me if you need anything."

She nods in response, not moving her eyes from the computer she's speedily typing away on.

I get my stuff from the break room and enjoy the sweet relief of clocking out for the day.

I check my phone and see 100 missed calls. No, that's wasn't an exaggeration, there's legit 100. All from Jeremiah. Even though I know he does this everytime I work, I still worry something bad happened so I call him back. "Hey, Jeremiah. You called?" My voice sounds dead, which checks out with the way I feel.

"Yeah, multiple times and you didn't answer."

I yawn. "What's up?"

His booming voice is not what I need right now. "I know you're cheating on me!"

I hit my head on the steering wheel, fed up. "What are you talking about J?"

"Don't call me J! Did you or did you not have a male patient at work?"

I hang up and start driving home. I'll deal with him later.