Chapter 4 - ERIC’S WITNESS STATEMENT
Eric stopped dead when he saw my father and brother in the cubicle. The air in the small space dropped ten degrees. He didn't look like the easygoing college friend who watched football in the basement; his jaw was clenched, and his eyes were sharp.
“Mr. Hale, Jake,” Eric said, his tone flat and unyielding. “I was just talking to the triage nurse.”
My father’s eyebrows drew together in a dark line. “And what business is that of yours, son? This is a private family matter.”
“It stopped being private when your daughter collapsed on a kitchen floor and you told her she was faking it,” Eric replied, stepping closer to the bed. My father stood up, his face reddening. “Watch your tone. You don’t know what goes on in our home.”
“I know what I saw,” Eric said without flinching. “I heard Mrs. Hale tell her to quit faking and clean the counter while she was gasping for air. I heard you call her lazy. And when the paramedics asked who delayed calling 911, I gave them an accurate timeline.”
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Jake pushed off the wall. “Are you out of your mind? You’re making up stories—”
“I’m a pre-med senior, Jake,” Eric interrupted, turning his steady gaze to my brother. “I know the difference between a panic attack and a respiratory crisis, and I also know medical neglect when I witness it. The intake nurse has my statement on record.” My father looked as though he might strike him, but the rustle of scrubs announced the return of Dr. Vance, forcing my family to swallow their fury behind masks of civic politeness.
