-Chapter 2: The Angel's Curse-

"How is he?" Murray asked as soon as the doctor approached him.

"He's lucky you found him when you did," the doctor said. "There's no permanent brain damage."

"So there is some brain damage then?"

"Nothing obvious. Temporary loss of fine motor skills and possibly partial blindness in one or both eyes. Partial amnesia. The last is rather expected as Bitter Angel is what the street kids call a brain locker."

"Why would someone as smart as Bryce want to lock his brain? What is he running from?" Murray wondered aloud.

"Maybe they'll find out during his stay at the rehab center." the doctor replied. "I'm going to recommend a minimum stay of two months with intensive psychotherapy. We'll get to the bottom of this problem."

Cheviot rushed in. "Where's Bryce? What happened?"

"Bryce is resting, sir." Murray said, looking to the doctor for help. He didn't want to be the one to tell Cheviot that Network 23's resident teen genius had nearly overdosed on a dangerous narcotic.

"Dr. Reynolds," the doctor introduced himself. "Murray and your onsite physician Dr. Duncan called for an ambulance about fifteen minutes ago. Bryce was found in a state of seizure following an injection of Bitter Angel."

"What the hell is he taking Bitter Angel for?" Cheviot demanded, absolutely furious that anyone as smart as Bryce could do something so incredibly stupid.

"We don't know yet, sir," Murray said. "The doctor was just recommending rehab for a couple of months."

"I want him there longer than that," Cheviot said. "He's got about four months worth of vacation time due to him. I want Bryce to get as much help as he can. In the mean time I want answers. I want the rest of your team to find out what happened that made Bryce feel he had to resort to drugs instead of talking to his friends."

Bryce screamed in the other room.

Murray, Cheviot, and Dr. Reynolds hurried into the room.

A nurse was hugging Bryce and stroking his hair.

"Shh… shh.. calm down."

"Blind… I'm blind.." Bryce was sobbing. "Can't see anything."

"It's just temporary," Dr. Reynolds told him. "From the drug you gave yourself. I'll pass in a few hours."

"Surely you knew that's one of the side-effects," Murray inquired.

"No, I never checked." Bryce admitted. "Who are you anyhow?"

"You took an illegal street drug without even knowing the potential side-effects!" Cheviot exploded. Amnesia or not, Bryce was going to get a piece of his mind. "Are you insane? Do you have any idea of the damage that could've caused? You're lucky you got out of it with just a few temporary setbacks."

"I'm sorry, but I haven't a clue who you are." Bryce admitted.

"That's one," Cheviot said. "We've talked it over and you're going to a rehab center."


"This isn't up for debate, Bryce," Cheviot told him.

"Mr. Cheviot is right," Murray said. "You need help. You've got about four months of paid vacation due to you. So you are going to stay in rehab for at least that long."

"I don't need rehab," Bryce said.

"How long have you been taking Bitter Angel, Bryce?" Cheviot asked, his tone demanding honesty.

"I don't remember," Bryce replied.

"Doctor?" Murray asked.

"The toxicology results we got back suggest he's been taking it for about a month."

"Jesus wept," Cheviot whispered, realizing that his youngest employee was most likely addicted.

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