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Dr. N put both his palms down on the table and leaned forward. “Hannah, listen to me. I need you tostop wasting my time,” he said.
His voice was low, but I could hear the sudden anger in it, and it scared me. I thought about scuttling away to the corner. Or maybe crawling under his desk.
If you can’t see me, you can’t hurt me.That’s what I used to whisper to myself, over and over again. The words were a song I sang to myself.
“What is going on? Tell me about this world, or the other one, I don’t care. But Hannah, I need you to talk.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. There was a rushing sound in my ears. My body tingled and burned.
When I spoke, my voice seemed to be coming from very far away. “I saw the baron, and there was someone else in his arms.”
CHAPTER 91
After the morning meeting, Amy tells Jordan to go sit with Max B., the kid who got admitted last night. “Play a card game,” she says. “Hang out with him. He looks freaked.”
Of course he does, Jordan thinks. Because who has a good first impression of a psych ward? Literally no one.
Jordan does a quick search for Hannah first, but she isn’t in art therapy and her room is empty. Amy catches him on his way to check the quiet room.
“Hello? The new guy’s in the lounge.” She hooks a thumb over her shoulder. “It’sback that way,” she adds, as if he doesn’t know.
“Sorry,” he mumbles. He’ll look for Hannah again later—maybe on his break, when no one can tell him not to.
Jordan finds Max B. trying to make himself as small as possible in the corner of the lounge. He’s seventeen, skinny, with a ring through his septum and a few straggly hairs coming out of his chin. He’s pale as paper, with arms that seem too long for his body. He doesn’t want to talk, but Jordan manages to learn that he likesCall of Dutyand he lives on Reddit.
Of course, Jordan knows much more about him already, because he scanned Brittany’s intake notes.
Voices started c. 3 mos ago. Pt’s dog was talking to him. The TV had messages. “The voices were everywhere. They never shut up.” Pt stopped sleeping. Voices told him to hurt himself. On 2/26 pt took knife from kitchen. Resulting cut required sutures. Transfer from NY Grace ER 2/27.
“How about a game of cards?” Jordan asks.
Max shrugs.
“Let’s try Go Fish,” Jordan says, pulling a Bicycle deck out of his pocket. A little kid’s game—a mindless activity that’s popular on the ward for that very reason. You could be tranqed to the point of drooling and still manage a hand or two.
“Are you kidding me?” Max says.
“Nope.” Jordan starts to deal out the cards when someone sinks down into the chair next to him.
It’s Hannah.
“Hey, you,” he says, startled. He’s so happy to see her, but the expression on her face makes his heart twist. She’s not doing well today, it’s obvious. She looks like she hasn’t slept. Her fingers pick at the frayed cuff of her sweatshirt.
“Hannah, this is Max. Max, this is Hannah. She might be able to show you around a bit sometime. Right, Hannah?” The hopeful, almost puppyish tone of his voice embarrasses him.
Hannah doesn’t even glance in Max’s direction. “I saw you,” she hisses to Jordan.
“What?” he says. “Saw me where?”
“You say you want to help me, but it’s a lie. You don’t care. Youdon’t understand. I saw you. I saw you. You were laughing about me.” Her words tumble over each other, rushed and slurred. “There isn’t room anymore. There are too many wrong things. Everywhere I look, I’m losing.”
Jordan speaks softly, tenderly, even as fear swirls inside him. “Hannah, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”
Her dark eyes flash. “You aren’t who I thought you were. You aren’t the one. You don’t want to help me. You mock me!” She stands up again and waves her arms around like she’s a wizard trying to make him disappear.
Then she spits—the glob lands right next to the pile of cards—and runs away down the hall.
“Jesus,” Max moans. “People in here are fucked.”
