On the Edge (The Grange Complex Book 1)

Dexter

As soon those bastards placed me in that small hospital room I was on my feet, banging at the door. Panic overtook my running thoughts and I wasn’t sure if anyone could hear my screams. It took me ten minutes to realise that I was alone in this locked room and no one gave a fuck. I was petrified; my thoughts were racing like hell, speeding faster than ever before. Sasha had left me; she walked away when my mother showed up. I knew that it was all my fucking fault. I insulted her, pushed her away and told her to get lost, but couldn't she have stayed?

Suddenly the door swung open revealing a doctor and a nurse standing in the doorway with small smiles on their faces. It was difficult to read what they were thinking. I didn't think I could cope with a million questions being thrown at me by Smug One and Smug Two. My eyes roamed the room and focused on Lady Death, who stood in the back of the room staring at me. She was the only one that understood what I was going through. I saw her passing me a rope to end this all, like she did with my father. 

The guy in front of me took a seat and opened a file with my name on it. Why did he have a file with my name on it? He looked young, barely in his twenties, and I kept thinking that he was an actor, not a real doctor. Someone from the government had found out that I discovered the bugs. Now they were after me.  

"Dexter, my name is Dr. Cole. Why don't you tell me what has been happening to you?" He looked at me with an easy smile. I didn't trust the fucker. Despite that, I talked, going over and over what happened in the office, about my phones being bugged, about cockroaches in the bathroom. I talked until I was exhausted, noting that Cole wrote a few notes now and then. I asked about my family and was told my mother was outside in the corridor with my brother Connor. I could do this on my own. I didn’t need them. 

"Okay, let's talk about what I think is happening to you, Dexter."

“No!" I shouted, jumping out of the hospital chair. "I haven’t fucking finished yet!” None of these fuckers knew what was going on. 

“Dex, I need you to focus on me. I can help you feel better, but you must try to hear what I am telling you. From your symptoms and your family history, I think you are in need of some support and we can provide that." His voice was assertive, but it smoothed my rage ever so slightly. "I believe you have a mental condition known as bipolar disorder. Do you know what that is?" he asked, looking at me with dark penetrating eyes. What the fuck was he talking about? I didn’t get why he thought that I was mentally ill. I was seeing this shit for real. 

“I’m not fucking bipolar!” I shouted. 

“I understand that this is strange for you, but we need to help balance your medication so you will feel better and you can go about your normal life without the current levels of stress that your mind is creating. Your headaches, your lack of a normal sleeping pattern, your anger issues—all of these symptoms are caused by a chemical imbalance that creates this chaos in your life. Wouldn't you like to sleep properly without a headache just once?"

I said nothing, only stared at him. How the fuck did he know this about me?

He stood up and nodded to the nurse with him and said, "We'll be right back."

He was gone for about ten minutes, and then my mother came crying and saying that I had to stay in the hospital for a bit. Soon everything turned into a nightmare. No way was I going to be committed to some loony bin. I started to get really angry, and more nurses began showing up the louder I became. The young doctor that interviewed me told me that I needed to be hospitalised to get the methadone out of my system because it could dangerously destabilise me further, but I knew it was a load of bullshit. Apparently, someone prescribed me the wrong meds, which caused hallucinations. This wasn’t fucking possible. Sasha had made contact with that noted neurologist. He couldn’t have prescribed me some shitty pills that didn’t work. 

“Dex, stop fighting them. You need to do this, bro,” Connor shouted after I tried to push away one of the nurses. The woman wanted to stick a needle into my arm. I tangled my fingers into my hair, pulling it taut with frustration. I shouted that they were all wrong, that they didn’t know what they were talking about. My brain felt like it was slowly melting and it was going to blow up within a moment. Sasha had betrayed me, left me alone, and my mother was sobbing, looking at me like she didn’t know me. 

sick.

help you. Don’t fight. It’s for your own

to Sasha and ask her about the bugs in the bathroom. She

psychiatric ward. I wasn't going anywhere without a fight. Everything was moving so fast—my thoughts roiled, shooting through my

It had a bed, a small table, and a small loo. The doctor wanted to put me to sleep for a few hours to help with the detox and to relax me, but I refused to take anything. I was furious with myself, with my mother, and fucking Sasha. My head was banging and anger was seeping out of me, smashing through my

before anyone turned up. Half an hour later, some guy unlocked the door to my room and walked in like he owned the fucking place. A large, bulky nurse

is John Bishop and I’m going to be your doctor whilst you are in this ward. Dr. Cole from ER told me that you had

has been some sort of error. Check my files.

Almost like if you forget eggs in a cake recipe. If you leave them out, the cake just isn't right. You could still eat it

my life, Doc.

anger, euphoria and sometimes even memory loss. I can go on and on, Dexter. I have looked into your medical history records. No one has ever given you a proper diagnosis, and from what I can understand, during your teenage years you were treated for various ailments, but that hadn’t improved your well-being. We aren’t against you, Dex. I am not the enemy. Depression might have been one of the reasons that your father killed himself, as it can be genetic.

at this smart-ass doctor, hiding my head between my legs, trying to breathe. I wanted him to stop talking. Fuck, depression. Was I that sad that I developed a mental illness? I needed to speak to Sasha, find

stabilise. What pissed me off the most was the fact that he kept saying that he wanted to help me, that things were going to

Whatever. 

double chin and fat chunky fingers. After ten minutes she finally left me alone. The buzzing sound in my ears eventually went away, but I felt trapped, betrayed. No one was going to help me. My mother and brother, they fucking locked me in here, and Sasha, she didn’t mean shit. I had fallen in love with her, but I couldn’t be chained

Sasha

more unnecessary paperwork, but I simply couldn’t focus on the text that was in front of me. It had been a hell of a week. Dexter hadn’t come home since the day I left him in the hospital with his mother. For days I’d been thinking about what he said to me. I hadn’t shed

was the complete opposite. Maybe I should have called his mother after the incident in the bathroom. Although I felt for him, he had used me, made me feel like I was one of his brunette whores. The stuff that he said to me in the hospital was deliberately hurtful. For a moment I thought that he hadn’t meant any of it, that he had said it all in anger, but as it turned out, he was lucid enough and determined to push me away. I had been

at the paper, pulling me away from my thoughts. I forced

that all?” I asked.

wait for the buyer’s solicitor. The whole process shouldn’t take long. You probably have another three weeks in

was not a long time. Even so, I was still planning to move out sooner. I needed to get out of there before

but I couldn’t love him. Men like Dexter were far too toxic and too selfish

visit him. In the end we both used each other for sex. Love, as he said often, was for pussies, and I was done with being one. He wanted nothing to do with me and I had my own life that