Chapter 23: The Lactation Consultant

Brenda arrived at noon, a beacon of efficiency in a world gone sideways.

She was carrying her portable scale and a clipboard, her face set in the same determined lines I remembered from our session yesterday. Chloe was hovering in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, watching Brenda unpack with open hostility.

"Dr. Thorne said Elara needs rest," Chloe said, not moving to let Brenda approach the bed. "He didn't authorize any visitors."

"I'm not a visitor," Brenda said, snapping the legs of the scale into place. "I'm a healthcare provider. And unless you have a restraining order, you can't stop me from seeing my patient."

She looked at me, her eyes softening.

"How are you doing, Elara?"

"Better," I lied, though my voice sounded thin and reedy. "The... medicine is helping."

Chloe made a small noise of satisfaction in her throat.

"I need to check the baby's weight," Brenda said, reaching for the changing table where I had been forced to put Lily down earlier. "And I need to check Elara's supply. We had some concerns yesterday about... flow."

She emphasized the word *flow*, her eyes darting to Chloe's chest for a split second.

Chloe stiffened. "The baby is fine. She took a bottle perfectly."

"I'm sure she did," Brenda said, her voice mild. "But I still need to examine Elara. It's protocol. Especially with the medication changes."

She moved toward the bed. Chloe didn't step aside. They stood toe to toe, a silent battle of wills waged over the foot of my mattress.

"I'll stay," Chloe said.

"Actually," Brenda said, pulling the curtain around the bed with a sharp *swish*. "I need you to step out. Patient confidentiality. HIPAA regulations."

"I'm family."

"And I'm a licensed medical professional who can lose her license if she discusses a patient's medical history in front of unauthorized persons. Out. Please."

It wasn't a request.

Chloe hesitated. She looked at me, her eyes narrowing, silently promising retribution later. Then she turned and stomped out of the room, leaving the door open a crack.

Brenda walked over and pushed it shut until it clicked. She didn't lock it—that would be too obvious—but she leaned her heavy bag against it.

She came back to the bed. She didn't check my breasts. She grabbed my wrist, her grip tight and urgent.

"You were right," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the monitor. "The pills."

My heart slammed into my ribs. "You analyzed them?"

"I have a friend in the tox lab at the hospital. He ran a panel on the sample I took."

She pulled a folded piece of paper from her pocket.

"It's not just an antipsychotic, Elara. It's Clozapine. A high dose. But it's cut with something else."

"What?"

"Scopolamine."

The name meant nothing to me. "What is that?"

"It's a deliriant," she hissed. "They used to call it 'Devil's Breath.' It makes you compliant. Suggestible. And it wipes your memory."

She looked at the door, then back at me, her face pale.

"They aren't treating you for psychosis, Elara. They're inducing it."

She shoved the paper into my hand.

"You need to leave. Now."

"I can't," I whispered, tears pricking my eyes. "They took my phone. They locked the doors. Mark... he's in on it."

Brenda's face hardened. She reached into her bag and pulled out a small, prepaid flip phone.

"Take this," she said, pressing it into my palm. "It's my emergency backup. The number for the precinct is programmed in speed dial 1."

She looked at the door as the handle jiggled. The bag held it shut, but only for a second.

"Hide it," she whispered.

I shoved the phone under my leg just as the door pushed open, scraping the heavy bag across the floor.

Chloe stood there, her face a mask of fury.

"Time's up," she said.

Brenda stepped back, her hands raised in a gesture of surrender.

"We're done here anyway," she said, her voice loud and professional. "I think Elara needs a moment of privacy to... process."

She looked at me one last time, her eyes burning with a message I understood perfectly.

*Run.*