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One nurse nodded and stepped up to me. “Don’t you worry, Mr Shelby. We’ll take her back to be processed. You’ve been through enough. We can handle the rest.”
I had a momentary hope that the nurses would be kind, given that this was supposed to be a place to heal. But once Carson was out of sight, the nurse lost all pretense of politeness, her face falling into a bored expression.
“Let’s go.”
My heart pounded loudly in my ears. We were still in the lobby, the front doors in my view. The nurse motioned to a pair of doors that led into the facility and that foreboding feeling only got worse. I couldn’t do this. I wasn’t crazy. I needed to get out.
I barely took two steps towards the door before I felt a pinch in my behind. My whole body went limp, and I hit the ground hard. The nurse sighed.
“When he called and told us about you, we knew better than to assume you’d be cooperative. No more running, Mrs Shelby. You need help.”
She came into view, a needle dangling loosely from her hand as she motioned for some orderlies to pick me up off the floor. Tears slipped over my cheeks as they dragged me away from my freedom and through the doors that locked behind us, trapping me inside the hospital.
I should’ve never complained about being in that apartment. I should’ve stayed where I was safe. I would never get my freedom back. Each door that locked shut behind us as they dragged me farther into the facility felt like a prison gate slamming shut. What did I do to deserve this?
ChapterTwenty
Whatever I’d expectedwhen Carson forced me into this hospital, it was nothing like I’d thought. It was so much worse than that. This wasn’t the kind of place that supported you through your mental illness. The nurses were bored and often violent if you didn’t follow their direction immediately. And the doctors… I shuddered. The doctor I’d been assigned scared me. He eyed me lecherously every time I had to be in a room with him, smirking when he ordered more medication. I tried doing what I was supposed to do at first, taking the meds even though they made me feel like a zombie, my movements slow and the world confusing. But when Carson started to visit, I knew better than to take something that left me less alert around him.
I started hiding the medicine in my cheek and spitting it out when the nurses weren’t looking. I faked the symptoms that I took it until I was out of sight, and hid in my room until they came to get me for another meal or forced therapy session. I remembered Carson’s rule and stayed silent throughout the sessions, much to the doctor’s annoyance.
“You know, Mrs Shelby, your stay here will only drag out the longer you refuse to cooperate.”
I kept my face blank, mimicking the way I felt when I was on the medicine.
He sighed. “It’s been three weeks and you have yet to say a word. I understand that you’ve had a hard time, but if you don’t work with us, we’re going to have to try a different kind of therapy.”
A pamphlet slid into my line of vision on the table in front of me. Electroshock therapy. Fear trilled up my spine, and I clenched my hands tighter in my lap. There was no doubt in my mind that if they did something like that, I’d never recover. It was just as bad as a death sentence.
I clenched my jaw to hide the tremble, tears burning the backs of my eyes. I couldn’t let him see it affected me. He’d know the medicine wasn’t working.
After another few moments of silence, he sighed again. “Alright, Mrs Shelby. I’ll discuss it with your husband when he visits in a few days. When you’re ready to be more compliant, just let me know.”
He pressed a button on his phone, alerting the orderlies. It took work not to leap out of my seat and run when the door opened. I had to wait until the orderlies took me by the arms and forced me to my feet. They did it so often, the tops of my arms were all bruised. They were never gentle about it. They dragged me back to my room, depositing me into a chair, and walked away.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to think past the panic. Carson wouldn’t say no to electric shock. Anything that caused me pain brought him joy. I couldn’t stay here. But I couldn’t get out on my own. In the last three weeks, I’d tried multiple times to escape. Every time, they caught me and sedated me. And every time, they punished me. Withholding meals, locking me in my room. Taking away my outdoor time was the worst. We were supposed to get thirty minutes outside, but they took that away the first time I tried to escape and I hadn’t been outside since.
There had to be something, anything, that could help me get out. I didn’t want to die like this, my brain melted by psychotic doctors who were probably being paid off by my husband to make me compliant.
“Rosalie. It’s time for dinner.”
Carol, my least favorite nurse, stood outside my door, glowering at me. She hated her job. I overheard her more than once complaining to the other nurses. She saw us as worse than dirt and wasn’t known to spare the rod if we disobeyed her. I stood, following her out the door with my eyes on the floor. She was a heavyset woman, and she walked really slowly, which benefited me. I could keep up the theatrics following behind her really easily.
As we lined up to get our meals, I tried to make myself small. Some of the other people who were locked up here scared me. On my first night here, one of them threatened me with a knife they’d found. Ever since, I tried to stay out of their way.
A hand on my shirt yanked me backwards, causing me to stumble and hit the ground. Another patient sneered down at me, kicking me in the side.
“Piglets go last. Get to the back, piglet.”
“Nora! Keep your hands to yourself!” Nurse Carol barked.
Nora just stared at me, daring me to move. I stayed frozen where I was, my hands up in surrender, until the line moved and Nora walked away.
“Rosalie! On your feet!”
With a grimace, I slowly rose and shuffled to the end of the line. My ribs ached from Nora’s kick, but not as bad as it did when I first got here. It was the only positive thing. I couldn’t do a lot here, so my body had plenty of time to heal. Nora’s kick brought up old pains, though, and a thought struck me. I leaned into it, favoring my side, until I stood in front of the nurses’ desk, where they were handing out trays of food.
“What’s wrong with you?”
