respect it.
It needed bruises people could see.
It needed blood.
It needed witnesses.
But the first page in that folder was only a printed note with my name at the top, and it still felt like someone had placed a brick on my chest.
Dr. Conner told me Tessa had tried to access my chart before I woke up.
Not once.
Twice.
The first time, she told the nurse she was my emergency contact.
The second time, she used a softer voice and said I had always been confused after medical events, even though I had never had a medical event like this in my life.
Then she changed tactics.
She told the staff I exaggerated pain.
She said I had a history of acting helpless.
She suggested I did not need the medication they were giving me.
I listened without blinking.
The strange thing was that I was not surprised.
That hurt worse than surprise would have.
My mother was in the notes too.
Hallway camera, time stamped.
Nurse statement, time stamped.
Security report, time stamped.
