After Hours Read Online Free PDF Page A

“Bitch
     agent! Sent by the council!”
    The shot took effect in a matter of moments, and Lonnie’s fiery eyes went dim under
     heavy lids. I watched him blinking groggily, everything seeming to me as if it were
     happening on a TV screen, two-dimensional and glassy and unreal.
    A tech was rubbing my back, saying something soothing. She may as well have been speaking
     to a coatrack.
    The numbness slowly lifted, uncovering a crisis in my body. My heart had never beat
     this hard—my head pulsed, my eyes, my bones. I knew my chest was heaving so violently
     it must’ve looked as if someone were thumping me with invisible defibrillator paddles,
     but it was theoretical. The entire room was a theory, as all I could do was stare
     at the floor, blood and breath crashing through me in waves.
    Jenny’s hand on my arm. She was saying something. I was being led to the nurses’ station
     and steered to sit, my hand wrapped around a white paper bag and coaxed to my mouth.
     I huffed into it. Soon I could control my eyes enough to blink and scan the room.
     I felt my fingers and toes, my prickling cheeks, the padded chair under my butt.
    “There we go,” Jenny said. “Keep that up.”
    After another minute my wheezing quieted and my head cleared, the fog lifting to reveal
     a massive headache. “Sorry,” I gasped. It came out thin and high.
    “Hyperventilation’s a joy to treat, compared to what I’m used to.” She stood and gave
     me a soft, casual clap on the back. “Sit tight for a few. Actually . . .” She consulted
     her watch. “Your shift’s done in twenty minutes. Why don’t you take your paperwork
     down to the sign-in room, have a Coke, take your time with the forms? Don’t worry
     about evening hand-off. I think you’ve had enough excitement for your first day.”
    As much of a relief as the offer was, I felt like a failure and a coward as I gathered
     my clipboard. I thought I could feel everyone’s eyes on my back as I headed for the
     stairs, hear them thinking,
Well, she’s done. Another one bites the dust.
Tears stung my eyes and I could feel my face going pink . . . if it wasn’t already
     from the anxiety attack.
    I bought a pop from the vending machine and sat at the table, pressing the cold aluminum
     to my burning cheeks before I cracked it open.
    I hadn’t felt this defeated and useless in ages, not since the early challenges of
     caring for my grandma. Not even physically touched by a patient and I’d fallen to
     pieces. I shook my head and a lone tear made a break for it. I wiped it away with
     my wrist and sighed.
    My whole life, I’d been the one who kept it together. Grace under fire. I felt more
     lost than I could remember, naked with my veneer of capability stripped away.
    Paperwork helped. It required me to recount what had happened in clinical detail,
     to label Lonnie’s outburst in impersonal terms and remove myself from it. Though it
     seemed callous to draw the analogy, I told myself it was no more personal than an
     angry dog snapping at me. I’d been nothing more than the least trusted face in the
     room. Or maybe he’d smelled my fear.
    I’d do best to quit thinking of the patients like they were some other species. I
     never,
ever
would have let myself think about my grandma that way, and those men were all somebody’s
     family—somebody’s son or father or brother or lover. The thought left me more exhausted
     than ever.
    Though I’d stopped shaking, my handwriting was barely legible and stringing coherent
     words together was a struggle. A sob of frustration rose in me. I tamped it down,
     knowing other staffers could appear at any time to sign in or out. I sat up straight
     and tried to look studious.
Well, she had a scare, but she bounced right back.
Worth a shot.
    I finished my incident forms, three pages that left me as spent as a triathlon. I
     stood to toss my can in the recycling bin, then yelped when I turned around, finding
     a huge body