Then back at me.
“This is not a vitamin.”
My stomach dropped.
He told me the medication was haloperidol, a powerful prescription antipsychotic medication.
He explained that giving it to a four-year-old without a doctor’s instruction could be extremely dangerous.
I felt the room tilt.
I thought about the past few weeks.
Emma falling asleep at dinner.
Emma staring into space.
Emma complaining that her legs felt strange.
Emma being unusually quiet.
Emma waking up frightened.
Every memory suddenly looked different.
I had called each one a phase.
A tired day.
A bad night’s sleep.
A child’s mood.
Now I couldn’t stop wondering how many warning signs I had missed because I trusted someone I thought would never hurt my child.
Dr. Stevens examined Emma.
He checked her heart rate.
Her pupils.
Her reflexes.
Her muscle tone.
He asked whether she had been unusually sleepy.
Yes.
Confused?
Sometimes.
Shaky?
A little.
Stiff?
Occasionally.
Less talkative?
Definitely.
He wrote everything down.
Then he put the prescription bottle inside a clear evidence bag.
He wrote the time beside the entry in Emma’s medical record.
5:57 p.m.
I stared at that number.
It was strange what your mind remembers during moments like that.
I like reading the novels
Good story ml ending