"Morning. How are you feeling today?"
She sounds like she's making small talk in a break room. As if the man on this bed didn't break a guard's wrist eighteen hours ago.
I wait for a reaction. Breathing that speeds up despite every effort to control it. Hands that find reasons to grip the clipboard tighter.
Nothing.
She asks me four questions. Name, date, where I am, my comfort level. I give her single words because the dose still has my jaw on a leash. She writes them down.
"Okay. I'll let you rest. Looks like the drugs are still a bother for you."
She leaves at the same pace she came in. The lock clicks. I stare at the ceiling.
I give her a week.
She comes back the next day smelling like instant coffee and coconut lotion. First thing I've smelled in months that isn't bleach or sweat. I notice it more than I should.
She clicks her pen twice before she opens the clipboard.
"How are things today?"
"Fine."
"Good. I want to ask about your experience here. Your perspective on your current care, how the facility runs, anything you want on record. Sound okay?"
I push myself to sitting. The dose has loosened its grip enough that my arms obey on the first command. They seem to be giving me a higher dose and it's taking me a few days to get through it."You want my perspective on current care." I keep my voice flat. "Want to start with the guard whose wrist I broke."
Her pen stills for a second. Then: "Sure, go ahead."
"His name is probably on your clipboard somewhere. Officer Kyle. He reached across me for the restraint strap. Put his wrist right in front of me." I hold her gaze. "I don't think he understood how close that was. I'm not a friendly Labrador. They should know better by now. Kyle's a sloppy guard."
Her pen moves across the page.
"I took his wrist and bent it until it broke. He screamed." I pause. "He stopped after a few seconds. That's the part people don't expect. The silence after. That's the part I enjoy the most."
She turns the page. Her breathing hasn't changed.
"How long between the wrist injury and the restraint team arriving?" she asks.
She's asked about response time. Not why I did it. Not how it made me feel. Not whether I understand the consequences.
"Eleven seconds."
"Is that typical?"
"For this ward, yes."
She notes it. Looks up. "Thank you. That's helpful for my report." She checks her watch. "Anything else you want to flag about the incident?"
"No."
"Okay. I'll let you rest up, I don't want to overwhelm you in the first few days." She stands, tucks the clipboard under her arm. "See you tomorrow." At the door she turns. "Have you eaten today? Your tray's still full."
"I'm not hungry."
"Try the toast, at least. It's the only thing here that's hard to ruin."
She leaves.
