Cocking his eyebrow, he shakes his head back and forth. “Don’t you worry about that. They’ll know—and they’ll start making sure you swallow your medicine.”
That actually provides me a sensation of relief. Because I have no earthly clue why I’m here, anything is a possibility.
“Lights out in ten. Might want to head to your room, Joseph.”
I can see by the way my friend’s jaw ripples that he doesn’t much like being called that—but he nods just the same, refusing to make eye contact with the tech. I wasn’t able to help myself when his voice came through the room, and I glanced at my doorway, but he was someone I haven’t seen before. Well, if I have, I don’t remember.
After he leaves, Joe strokes the side of my cheek with a finger. “We’re gonna get you better, Anna.”
I smile and say thanks. After he leaves, I slide the DSM under my bed and get up on the mattress and under the covers. I like Joe a lot, but I wonder why he so desperately wants me better. There seem to be dozens of people here, so what makes me so damn special?
And then I realize we have a connection of some sort. I felt it the first time I saw him.
As I close my eyes waiting for sleep, I’m drowning in those thoughts. I just wish there was someone else I could ask. But, of course, there isn’t. I can’t even trust myself, so how can I trust anyone else? For now, I really have no choice but to trust in Joe.
After a while, I hear another voice. “Anna, don’t go to sleep yet, sweetheart. Time to take your medicine.”
Oh, yes, how had I forgotten about that? I sit up to see the same man who’d peeked in my doorway minutes earlier holding a tiny paper cup. I want to analyze the crap out of those pills, but I don’t dare give away that this whole thing is new to me. Instead, I take the cup and then, with my head tilted back, I start to shove them in between my cheek and gum, just like Joe had instructed, and I do it on my left side where I think this guy is less likely to notice.
When I open my eyes and hand him the cup, his dark brown eyes don’t have a smile in them, but he’s forcing one on his whiskery face. I appreciate the attempt at least. I realize I need to pretend I’m swallowing, almost too late, and do it, maybe with a little too much exaggeration.
“Maybe I need to bring you a cup of water next time?”
If there’s any warmth on my face, it’s as subtle as the Mona Lisa’s smile, but I give this man a slight nod and then lie back down, resting my head on the pillow and closing my eyes. After a few seconds, I hear the click of the door as it closes but I’m nervous about opening my eyes, because I don’t know if he’s left for sure. But I do. Slowly, I begin lifting the lid of my left eye, almost buried in my pillow, and then I see that I’m enshrouded in semi-darkness. Then, with both lids open, I glance toward the door to find it’s now closed.
Sitting up, I realize there’s a lot of light coming from my windows, enough that I can see outlines in my room. I fish the pills out of the gutter between my gum and cheek, glad that they haven’t started completely dissolving. But as I blow on them, trying to dry them off, I can taste something bitter in my mouth. Still, a little medicine won’t hurt, will it?
There are five pills total. I can’t tell what color they are, although they appear to be light, and one is a capsule. Where the hell was I hiding them before? Did I even stop taking them like Joe thinks I did? Part of me knows not taking my meds might be a stupid move, but one thing’s for certain. Until today, I had no sentience. Today, I am self-aware and desperate to find out who I am and why I’m here.
That assures I won’t take the medicine.
But how—where—do I hide it? I remember Joe saying something about flushing them down the toilet, but I don’t know how effective that would be for me. This capsule presents a problem. Even if I wrap it in toilet paper, there’s always a chance something weird could happen, and I have no idea what the consequences would be if they figured out what I’m doing. If these sweats had pockets, I could always try to find a way to sneak them into the breakfast trash. Considering other possibilities, I doubt I could hide them anywhere in here. Part of the bedmaking routine in the morning probably also includes cleaning—and I’m sure they keep their eyes peeled for medicine. Even if I could crush and scatter the tablets into powder (and, based on the glossy coating on one, I’m dubious), there’s still that damned capsule.
I decide I’ll deal with figuring it out in the morning. Now that I know I have a little light, I want to look through that book more. Tucking the pills under my pillow, I lean over, reaching under my bed to pull out it out. It’s huge. I think about turning to the schizophrenia section but, instead, decide to look at bipolar disorder. I’ve heard of it, but I don’t know much about it. Unfortunately, even though there’s light coming in, it’s not a lot. It’s still hard to make out the words on the page, especially the smaller text. I sit up and then, finally, stand to get better light, but the windows have no sill, so I have to hold the book up and then tilt it so I can catch the rays just right. And then I see someone walk by my door through the window. If they come in, I’m in big trouble. Not only am I not sleeping, but what if they found my pills? I jump back in bed, just in time to see that person come back and look closer through the window. My heart is thudding in my chest, but I hold perfectly still, my back pressing against the wall, clutching that stupid book tightly in my hands.
At last, the person peeking in walks away and I let out the breath of air I’d been holding. I’m guessing the person saw me standing and came back to look. When they couldn’t see movement, they left. I think some of trying to look through the manual again from where I sit, but as I strain to make out the words, my eyes get tired.
Yes, it’s been a crazy day, what feels like my first day on the planet. Maybe the book can wait till tomorrow. After all, I’ve got my whole life ahead of me.
6
It seems like I’ve hardly slept at all when I hear a raspy, grouchy-sounding voice. “Rise and shine, Clawson.” I startle and nearly jump out of bed, but I remember those pills under my pillow. My hand had been under it while I slept on my side, so I hope I can get away with digging out the pills. I feel one under my finger but continue searching for the others.
“I don’t got all day, princess. How much beauty sleep you need?”
Oh, she sounds really nasty, making me wish Rose was here again.
As I keep feeling around as subtly as possible, I realize I must have hidden my pills somewhere else the day before. Otherwise, they would have found them in my bed when they were cleaning. What the hell did I do with them?
It doesn’t matter, because today I have a dilemma. Get these pills or be discovered.
“What the hell?” asks the nasty tech, and I want to tell her to chill and go get another cup of coffee. After a few seconds, I hear her voice in the hall. “What the hell are they giving this woman? She can’t even get out of bed in the morning.”
I hear a male voice responding to her but can’t make out the words—and that’s fine by me, because now I’m not as worried about the nasty woman catching me fishing around for medicine.
Until I feel her hands wrap around my feet. “Out of bed, Clawson.” She starts pulling me out, dragging me down the bed, and I pray I’ve found all the pills, but I can’t tell.