Fugue State Read Online Free PDF

the prosecutor began.
    The prosecutor was a dark-haired, older lady with oversized glasses. She shuffled through her paperwork as she addressed Alexa. “Your title as neuroradiologist has required extensive training, Doctor. Four years of college — at Dartmouth, nonetheless, followed by four years of medical school — where, I see you graduated at the top of your class.” The woman forged a counterfeit smile, before her eyes returned to the paper. “Then a year of internship in general surgery at the University of Texas, Southwestern, followed by four additional years of radiology residency there. You also completed a year of subspecialty training with a neuroradiology fellowship at Vanderbilt. Very impressive, Dr. DeBrow.”
    Alexa’s face grew warm. It felt good to have her positive attributes publicly acknowledged after all the negativity. The words created hope that the charges might be dropped, and she could return to being a respectable citizen again.
    But something in that woman’s eyes said otherwise. Something about the prosecutor’s sharp features and pursed lips said she was hiding something up her sleeve. Alexa’s optimism wilted beneath the woman’s gaze. How could she trust someone named Janice Finkle? How could she trust a woman with scattered gray hairs that she left uncolored, and scuffed up shoes that were obviously too big? No. She would not trust the prosecution. Janice Finkle would probably ask for me to be stoned to death if it were legal.
    Ms. Finkle went on to list a series of medical board examinations that Alexa had passed, and additional training with competency exams and continuing medical education requirements. Finally, she mentioned more simple hospital training requirements, including basic life support and advanced cardiac life support, both of which required yearly certification, for which Alexa had been certified for over a decade.
    Finkle concentrated on Alexa’s brief surgical training. “Dr. DeBrow, I think we should all take comfort knowing someone with such vast medical training was present for Jamar Reading the night of August seventeenth. Dr. DeBrow, with a year of general surgery experience, can you tell us what a physician should do when they encounter a rapid arterial bleed?” The words exited her lips with a hiss.
    The question was as pointed as Finkle’s chin, and Alexa stole a quick glance at the jury. A dozen eyes stared at her quizzically.
    Finkle continued, quoting an excerpt from Alexa’s initial police statement. “‘The blood spurted rapidly from his carotid, and he bled to death on top of me.’“ Finkle repeated her question. “Now, Dr. DeBrow, given your medical expertise, I would like your medical opinion. Can you tell the court what a physician should do when they encounter an arterial bleed?”
    A gasp slipped past her lips. They expected me to save that brute! Anger surged through her veins. Her jaw locked tight, afraid her words would incriminate herself. I killed that monster! s he screamed in her head. My victory should be applauded! I was supposed to die that night! How she longed for someone to tell her they were glad that she killed him — glad because it meant she was the one who got to walk away that night. Glad that Jamar Reading had one less victim.
    She would have to keep waiting to hear those words. No one had spoken them yet, and she doubted she would hear them today. She clenched her jaw, fearing her lips would incriminate her.
    The prosecutor pushed forward with her attempt to crack Alexa. She referenced portions of the modern-day Hippocratic Oath that Alexa had sworn out loud as a medical student over decade ago, along with several statements issued by the hospital where she had been employed until yesterday that discussed the character and expectations of their physicians.
    Alexa’s hands balled into fists. How can they do this to me? How can they hold my medical training against me? Did they really expect me save that bastard?