Chapter 4 - The Calculated Lie|
The emergency room physician at the hospital did not find my condition dramatic at all.
Dr. Simon Reed, a stern specialist with decades of trauma experience, immediately diagnosed severe chemical burns to both of my corneas, extensive inflammation of the surrounding ocular tissue, and a high risk of permanent vision impairment in my left eye. For nearly an hour, nurses flushed my eyes continuously with cool saline solution while I shivered uncontrollably beneath a heated blanket. Every faint speck of room light felt sharp enough to pierce my skull.
Outside the thin yellow curtain of my treatment bay, Preston’s calm voice drifted inward as he addressed the hospital security guard.
"It was just an unfortunate household accident, officer," Preston was saying, his voice perfectly smooth and rehearsed. "My mother and Amelia had a slight disagreement regarding cleaning products. Amelia panicked, reached recklessly for the bottle, slipped on the tile, and accidentally sprayed herself. She has always been overly sensitive and somewhat emotional."
He sounded embarrassed by me—like a patient husband dealing with a hysterical child—rather than terrified for his wife’s sight.
I tried to sit up on the stretcher, but a nurse gently held my shoulder. "Stay still, sweetie. We need to keep flushing the chemicals out."
"Please..." I rasped, tears of saline and chemical burn pouring down my cheeks. "Tell security he is lying. He held me."
The nurse glanced toward the curtain, her expression darkening with sympathy. "I will make sure the doctor documents your exact statement in the official medical file."
A minute later, Preston stepped through the curtain. Through the swollen, watery blur of my eyes, I could only make out his dark silhouette.
"You are making this so much worse than it needs to be, Amelia," he whispered furiously, leaning over my bed.
"Your mother targeted me," I whispered back, my voice trembling with rage. "She aimed for my face."
"She lost her temper because you disrespect her!" he snapped softly.
"And you held my arms!"
"I was trying to restrain you so you wouldn't scratch your own eyes out!" he lied smoothly. "You were flailing around like a crazy person."
"You pulled my hands away before she sprayed me a second time!"
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Preston exhaled a long, sharp sigh of disgust. "This is exactly why Mother worries about you. You turn every minor disagreement into an apocalyptic tragedy."
Looking up at his shadowed figure, I finally saw him clearly for the first time. He wasn't in shock. He wasn't filled with regret. He was already building his legal defense.
