Chapter 9 - Margaret’s Desperate Plea In The Hallway
As Officer Ruiz escorted Arthur out of Treatment Room Four, Margaret tried to follow closely behind them down the hallway. I stepped out of the room to block her path, my arms crossed over my white medical coat as I stared down the woman who had enabled years of abuse.
“Lila, please,” Margaret begged, reaching out a manicured hand to clutch at my sleeve before pulling back under my cold glare. “You have influence at this hospital. You can tell the police it was a terrible accident. We can settle this privately.”
“Privately?” I repeated, letting out a dry, humorless laugh that echoed off the tiled corridor walls. “You didn't care about privacy when you stood by the window watching my little boy freeze in the snow.”
“We are family, Lila!” Margaret cried out, drawing concerned glances from nurses pushing medication carts down the hall. “Family forgives each other! If Arthur goes to prison at his age, his heart won't survive it!”
“Then maybe he should have thought about his heart before he closed that heavy wooden door in Noah’s face,” I replied without a single ounce of pity in my voice. “My son knocked on your door for ten minutes, Margaret. You heard him. You chose to ignore him.”
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Margaret collapsed against the hallway wall, sliding down until she was sitting on the cold linoleum floor in a puddle of defeat. “I was afraid of him,” she whispered, burying her face in her hands as silent tears finally broke through her makeup. “Arthur rules our household with an iron fist. If I spoke up, he would have turned his wrath on me too.”
“Cowardice is not an excuse for accessory to attempted manslaughter,” I stated plainly, turning my back on her as I walked back into the treatment room. I closed the door softly behind me, shutting out the pathetic weeping of a woman who had chosen tyranny over basic human decency.
