Page 82 of Stalkers Anonymous

“Then the policy is inadequate.” I grab a notepad from the coffee table, scribbling down notes. Date. Time. Sharon’s full fucking name. Every detail I can remember. “I’ll be filing a formal complaint with HR, and I want documentation of this conversation for the record. Who is your supervisor?”

“Dr. Brigham, I don’t think that’s necessary—”

“Who is your supervisor?”

Another pause, longer this time. “Technically, that would be David Smith in Human Resources. But I want to assure you—”

“David Smith. Thank you.” I write the name down. “And I want to confirm: is this call being recorded?”

“I… No, this call is not being recorded.”

“That’s interesting, because hospital policy states that all calls from administration regarding employee safety should be documented. Are you telling me this call isn’t being documented?”

The silence on the other end is deeply satisfying. Sharon clearly wasn’t expecting pushback, and she definitely wasn’t expecting me to know the employee handbook backward and forward.

“I’ll make sure to add notes to your file after we conclude,” she says stiffly.

“Please do. And please include my statement that I do not feel the current protocols are adequate to ensure my safety. I am requesting a formal review of the decision not to ban Mr. Winters from the facility.”

“I’ll pass along your concerns.”

“I’m also filing a police report today, and I’ll be requesting that the hospital provide any documentation related to Mr. Winters’s visits, including security footage from last night. I assume that won’t be a problem?”

“You’ll need to submit a formal request through the appropriate channels—”

“I’m aware of the protocols.” I’m done being polite. “What I’m trying to determine is whether this hospital is going to support its employee or protect its liability. Because right now, it feels like the latter.”

“We absolutely support our employees—”

“Then prove it. Ban Winters from the facility, or give me a legitimate reason why a documented stalker is being given more consideration than the doctor he’s stalking.”

Sharon clears her throat. “We need evidence of criminal misconduct documented in a police report before we can escalate to a permanent ban.”

“Fine. You’ll have your police report by the end of the day. And I’ll have my complaint filed with HR by tomorrow morning. Is there anything else?”

“No, I think that covers everything.”

“Wonderful. This has been incredibly reassuring, Sharon. Really stellar work.” I don’t bother hiding the sarcasm. “Have the day you deserve.”

I hang up before she can respond.

For a long moment, I just sit there, phone in my lap, heart pounding. I can’t believe I just did that. I’m usually so careful about not rocking the boat, not making waves, not being the “difficult” employee.

But something in me snapped.

Maybe it was the way Sharon said “misunderstanding,” like I was being hysterical. Maybe it was the fact that Winters called to cover his ass and the hospital saw that as customer feedback rather than continued harassment. Maybe it was just the weight of being told that my safety matters less than someone else’s drug addiction.

Either way, I’m done being quiet about it.

I add to my notes: Call David Smith tomorrow. Request formal meeting. Document everything. Employment lawyer?

The last one feels extreme, but so does having a stalker who’s being welcomed back to my workplace with open arms. Extreme situations call for extreme responses. Young Hailey would be proud of present-day Hailey for standing up for herself, and for finally accepting—not diminishing—her anxiety.

I know exactly what happened here, even without the legal consultation. Lars Winters is a frequent flyer. Every time he shows up in the ER, his insurance gets billed. Doesn’t matter that his complaints are bogus. Doesn’t matter that we’re not ordering many tests or admitting him. Someone, somewhere, is making money off his addiction, and that income is more important than my safety.

If the hospital won’t protect me, I’ll have to protect myself. And if that means becoming the squeaky wheel, the problem employee, the one who files complaints and requests documentation and makes everyone’s job harder—so be it.

I’ve spent my whole life trying not to be a burden. Trying to handle things on my own. Minimizing my own needs so I don’t inconvenience anyone else. Accepting that no matter how bad things seem, they could always be worse.