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“Yeah, I just …” I look pointedly at the cuffs on my good arm, and Mia shakes her head.
“Nope.”
“Oh good heavens, child,” scolds the nurse, glaring at Mia. “The girl has to go to the restroom. I will escort her.”
Mia’s eyes narrow at me, as though I’d somehow convinced the nurse to break the rules in the thirty seconds she’d been here. “Fine,” she says. “But no funny business, Taylor.” She steps forward to unlock the handcuffs, and I rub the spot on my wrist where they had been digging. My injured arm is difficult to move, but I try to warm it up anyway so it’s not so stiff. Nurse Annie comes to the side of my bed and helps me sit up. The lower half of my body feels fine, nothing like my sliced up arm, but the pain meds I’m on make my head a little bit fuzzy. As the nurse helps me to the bathroom, I smile and release her.
“I think I’m okay to go alone.”
“Of course, sweet thing.” Nurse Annie releases me, and I stumble into the bathroom, shutting the door behind me, Mia’s angered face vanishing behind the closed door. Once I’m safely inside, I walk to the sink to splash some cool water on my face. My injured arm shakes, but that’s to be expected. It doesn’t matter; I can’t allow myself to focus on the pain, because I’m exactly where I need to be.
After I use the restroom and wash my face, I walk back into the room, where Nurse Annie helps me back into the medical bed. As Mia approaches to handcuff me again, I turn to the nurse.
“My right arm really hurts, too. It feels numb and tingly. Can I have the doctor check it?”
“Absolutely.” Nurse Annie winks at me, then swivels her head to look at Mia. “No handcuffs. This young lady is a patient, and she’s in no position to harm anybody. Keep the cuffs off for now, please.”
Mia doesn’t look pleased in the slightest, but she gives a quick, curt nod and steps aside as the nurse hurries past her to fetch the doctor.
“Ms. Armstrong,” I say quietly. “The prison nurse has me on an antidepressant, but I asked if she could keep it hushed. I don’t want any drug reactions. Can you call Ashgate and confirm the medication?”
“I’m not aware of any such thing,” Mia says suspiciously. I feign a smile and a tiny wince of pain. “Mr. Jaxon will tell you; he is aware of it as well.”
For a second I swear she’s going to refuse, but then she purses her lips and clears her throat.
“Your doctor will be here any moment,” she says. “You’re not well enough to get out of this bed yourself, so don’t even consider it. I’ll be two minutes.”
I nod gratefully and Mia departs, speed walking to the front desk where she can use the phone. My eyes land on the door she’s just gone through, but nobody has taken her place. I look to the right, where my clothes are sitting in a bag in a chair. Then, eyes still on the door, I slide out of bed, flexing my aching fingers on the injured arm to get the blood flowing. I grab my bag of clothes and poke my head out into the hallway. I see Mia a few yards away, her body halfway toward mind, blond-haired head bobbing as she speaks. I hold my breath and wait for my chance, and the mere second she looks away, just briefly, I slip into the hallway and straight into another patient’s room, closing the door quietly behind me.
An old man is asleep in this room, snoring softly from the bed he’s lying on. There’s no one else here, so I slip into the bathroom and change as quickly as I can with one injured arm. Then, I drape the hospital gown back over my clothes and drop my chin to my chest, sidling up against the wall to listen for any commotion next store. For a few moments, there is silence, just the normal hustle and bustle of the hospital corridors.
Then, like a lit firecracker, something goes off, and I hear Mia’s voice echo down the hallway.
“We have a runaway!” she shouts. “Check the doors!”
Her feet thunder right past the neighboring room, getting fainter as she disappears to the front entrance, hoping to find me there. I poke my head out to make sure the coast is clear, and then step into the hallway, head ducked low, hood up to hide my face.
I don’t know where I’m going, because I can’t very well head out the front doors, and all I can do is pray that hospital security hasn’t secured every exit yet. As I pass the public restroom, I glance up, just briefly, and my eyes meet someone else’s. It’s Nurse Annie, and she’s standing in front of me, hands on her hips, brows puckered in a frown.
“Please.” It’s the first word to come out of my mouth, meek and tired, afraid. “I need to do this.”
Nurse Annie’s lips purse, and I know that she’s going to bust me. Behind my back, down the hall, I hear Mia shouting again. Nurse Annie’s eyes flicker up, then back down to my face, and she shakes her head, shrugging off her hospital jacket, and holds it behind her back.
“Behind me,” she whispers. “And to the right. There’s a back exit.”
I don’t know if I should trust her, but at this point I don’t have a choice. I shoot her a grateful look and slip around the corner, taking the jacket she has in her hand just in time to hear her yell back to Mia, “Someone saw her in the west wing!”
I drop my chin again and round the corner, relief flooding my body as the neon EXIT sign flashes bright, taunting me. I walk forward, take a deep breath, and push open the door.
Chapter Twenty-One
The air is cold.Freezing, actually, as I step out of the back exit and into an alley. It’s dark out, and wet. I shrug the hospital gown off, along with my vivid green prison hoodie, and toss both of them into the trash bin against the brick wall of the hospital. I yank on Nurse Annie’s pink zip-up jacket and throw the hood up, shoving my hands into my pockets.
People on the street scurry past me, hardly noticing the small, thin girl by herself emerging from the alley. I keep my head down, chin to my chest and walk. I don’t know where I’m going yet, or how, but the further I get away from security, the better.
I’m somewhere downtown, and the further I walk, the sketchier it gets. Fewer and fewer people swarm me, and instead, beggars on the street reach out, pleading, begging for help, for food, for money. I feel like one of them; a nobody, an inmate. A criminal.
Once I feel like I’m far enough away from the hospital to be momentarily safe, I duck into another alley and lean up against the wall, taking a deep breath to settle my frayed nerves. Heavy in the back pocket of my prison scrub pants, thank God, is the small piece of paper with the address for the Air BNB. But it’s not time for that, not yet.
