One Past Midnight (14 page)

“Room checks are on the hour during the day and randomly at night,” she said as a parting comment.

Great.

Once alone, I sorted through the small bag of belongings my parents had left. I almost laughed at the clothes they'd chosen. Not a single one of my favorite minis. My old stuffed bear was in the mix, my pillow, a ten-dollar bill with a Post-it note that said “vending machine money,” and—surprise, surprise—my new notebook.

Stunned, I opened the book, not sure what to expect. It was blank. The pages I'd already written on had been ripped out. Anger reaching overload, I threw the book at the wall.

Nice one, Mom.

There was a quick rap on the door. It opened a fraction and Macie's head popped through the gap. “All okay?”

I collected the book from the floor. “Fine. Do you have a pen?” I asked.

She paused. “No pens, but I can bring you a marker.”

I nodded. “Thanks.”

When Macie returned with the marker she informed me that dinner would be at 5:30 p.m.

“What? No one eats dinner that early!” I argued. Were they kidding?

Macie just shrugged and left.

For the millionth time, I had to hold back the urge to scream. I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at my notebook, marker in hand. I needed to regroup. But where did I go from here? Being locked up had not been part of the plan.

Hours drifted by, but the page in front of me remained blank and my frustration only intensified.

Eventually I gave up and decided to change out of my hospital gown.

I glanced at the clothes my parents had sent and decided to stick with the outfit I'd been wearing when they brought me in. As I yanked my skirt off the top of the pile, something fell to the floor.

I crouched down and picked up my silver butterfly necklace. Hands shaking, I glanced at the door. It hadn't been that long since the last room check, so I dared to unscrew the top.

Mouth agape, I stared at the ground-up digoxin and almost laughed. Of all the things to allow in this room with
me, somehow
this
had slipped through. I replaced the top on the butterfly and dangled it from my hand, trying to figure out why they hadn't confiscated it. Maybe they'd decided the dainty chain was barely strong enough to hold the butterfly, let alone cause any damage. And what could one really do to hurt themselves with a butterfly pendant?

I put the necklace around my neck, tucking it beneath my T-shirt, and finished getting dressed just before Macie came back.

“Are you ready to go to dinner?”

I nodded and followed her to the food hall, my hand going often to the butterfly beneath my shirt. Finally I felt empowered again. Finally I had the chance to follow this through—to find out one way or the other if there was a choice ahead for me.

Dinner was much like lunch, just in a large, empty cafeteria. I now understood why I was eating so early. Apparently I couldn't be trusted in company yet. Macie told me that I would integrate over the next day or so. I could barely wait.

After forcing down a few mouthfuls of rubbery lasagna, I grabbed a banana and a carton of milk. What I really wanted was a soda, but there were only three drink options: water, milk, or orange juice.

On our way out of the cafeteria, I grabbed a bottle of water and gestured to Macie. “Can I take this back to my room?”

She nodded. “That should be fine.”

“You sure about that? I mean, I could always try to drown myself in the bottle. You know, get all Alice-in-Wonderland tiny and leap right in,” I sniped.

Macie raised an eyebrow. “Would you like me to reconsider?”

“No, I'm just helping you look at all the angles.” I smiled. It was probably stupid, since I really did want the bottle of water, but I couldn't help myself. Luckily, Macie took the high road and ignored me.

When we got back to my room, two guys were rummaging through it. One was looking under my bed. The other was actually on a ladder, searching the ceiling cavities. I recognized the one on the ladder as Mitch, the guy I'd kicked in the nose. When he saw me, his eyes narrowed.

“You'll have to sit in the chair until we've finished.”

My mouth dropped open as the other guy upended my bag and began spreading out my underwear.

“What? Why? You can't . . .” I shot a look at Macie. “You've basically been with me all day! What do you expect to find?”

Macie's face was expressionless. “Sit in the chair, Sabine. It's protocol.”

My hand flew in the air. “You have to be kidding me. He needs a
ladder
to get up there, so how the hell do you think I could've gotten up there to hide things?”

“Sit,” she ordered.

I shot daggers at her. Macie simply returned my gaze, as if daring me to say anything else.

I stomped over to the chair, my hand wringing the bottle of water as I watched them rifle through my few measly belongings. They searched every corner, stripped my bed, overturned the mattress then inspected it for any tampering before setting it right and remaking it. Then all eyes turned to me.

“Sabine, you need to stand up now,” Mitch said. I eyed his black-and-blue nose. I'd gotten him good and it made me feel a little better. He glanced at Macie. “You'll need to pat her down, Mace.” I noticed his tone changed considerably when he spoke to her.

Macie nodded, smiling at him before turning back to me. “It'll only take a second. Stand with your legs apart and arms out.”

I stood up and crossed my arms. “And if I don't?”

She shot Mitch a look. She seemed to see past his swollen nose to something more. Can't imagine what; he gave me the creeps. “Then we'll have to sedate you again. It's for your own safety.”

Mitch looked smug. His ego was bruised and he was gunning for a second round with me. It was that, along with the fear of being put under again, that finally made me reluctantly move my feet apart, spread my arms wide, and let Macie pat me down.

Nothing.

She didn't even spare a glance for the silver butterfly around my neck. Now I was the one hiding the smug smile. Not my fault if they're sloppy.

Macie stepped back. “Okay, all clear, Sabine. I'll see you tomorrow.”

“Can I use a phone?”

“Phone privileges come from Dr. Levi. You can ask him tomorrow.”

Of course they did. Even criminals were permitted one phone call.

The male nurses filed out.

“Are you locking me in?”

Macie's sympathetic smile didn't fool me. “No, but it's lights out soon and you're not permitted to leave your room without an escort. Trust me when I say it's not worth breaking the rules. Do you understand?”

“And I thought you said things were going to get easier.” I threw her my own false smile.

“They will. You just have to work with us instead of against us. Believe it or not, we're doing what's best for you.”

Deflated, I sat on the edge of the bed and gnawed at my lip. “What about a clock? Is there any way to get a clock in my room?”

Macie shrugged and headed out of the room with a casual “We can look into it tomorrow.”

“What time is it?” I called out, now panicked.

“Almost seven,” she answered, and the door clicked shut.

I changed into the nightshirt my parents had packed, grateful I didn't have to get back into a hospital gown, and lay in bed. Eventually a nurse walked through the hall calling “lights out.” Soon after, the main lights switched off and the small fluorescent bulb in the ceiling flickered on. I almost laughed. Could I seriously not be trusted to have complete darkness?

I sobered when I realized that, on this occasion, they were actually right.

As soon as the noises of the ward settled down and I was confident I'd be able to hear approaching footsteps, I slid out of bed. I figured it was about 8:00 p.m. Too early to do anything with the digoxin yet, but judging from last night's shift change, Ethan would arrive soon and I didn't know how much of an opportunity I would get to organize things once he did. I had to have everything ready to go.

First, I opened my bottle of water, fumbling with my infuri-ating cast, and gulped down half the bottle's contents. Then I pulled off my butterfly necklace and tried to keep my hands steady as I unscrewed it and carefully emptied the powder into the bottle, swirling it to dissolve all of the tiny granules.

It wasn't perfect. The drug was not designed to dissolve, and even after I replaced the lid and gave it a good shake there was still a layer of tiny white grains that settled to the bottom. But it would have to do. I got under the covers and tucked the bottle out of sight.

When I picked up the marker my hands were trembling again.

What was I thinking? Was I really going to do this?

I took a deep breath and ran a hand through my hair as the enormity of what was about to happen washed over me. This was crazy. But like it or not, it was my only shot. The best thing I could do for myself now was ensure I was as ready as possible. I gripped the marker and wrote one word on the strip of white cast that covered the heel of my palm.

I was putting the marker back on the nightstand when I heard footsteps. I considered drinking some of the mixture, but if my calculations were right, it was still too early. I'd have to find a chance later on. I rearranged my blankets, making sure the bottle was still well hidden, and prayed room searches were over for the night.

I could tell the minute Ethan walked in that something
about him was different. Calmer. He was in jeans and a loose black shirt, his dark hair still a mess, but there was a change in the way he held himself. The tension in his shoulders and the lines around his eyes were gone.

“Do you mind if I come in?” he asked, in a way that sug-gested it was actually a question rather than a token gesture.

“Does it matter?”

“I'd prefer we started on the right foot tonight,” he said, and seemed to mean it. But I was stuck in attitude mode and

couldn't bother to reply. He clearly took my silence for agree-ment, because after a moment he walked into the room and sat down in the armchair.

“How are your wounds? Your wrist? Are you in any pain?”

I swallowed, unsure why his husky tone affected me. “No,” I managed.

“Would you like me to re-dress them for you?”

“I get a choice this time?” I blurted.

He gave a small smile. “Yes.”

“No, then.”

He nodded and ran a hand through his messy hair.

The silence stretched and I found it hard to look in his direction. I didn't want those eyes boring into me, trying to search out my secrets. I kept thinking about the moment I'd shifted back into my drugged body. How just before the drugs had claimed my consciousness I'd felt something,
someone,
squeezing my hand. Had I imagined it?

“Thanks,” I said, my voice breaking on the word.

He seemed taken aback. “For what?”

“For taking away the restraints last night.”

“Oh. How did that go for you? Midnight, I mean,” he said, inching toward me in his chair.

I couldn't help it, I laughed. I hated being played. “I know they told you, Ethan. I heard you all in here this morning.”

He shrugged. “I wondered if you were awake.”

I rolled my eyes. “Whatever. Look, you clearly don't like me and I don't particularly have generous thoughts toward you.”

He grinned at that, which only irritated me more.

“Let's just cut to the chase and save ourselves all the drama. There's nothing you can do or say that's going to ‘fix' me,” I added the air quotes for emphasis, “and I have nothing to say to you that you're going to be able to get your head around. So why don't you just fill in your charts, say whatever it is you need to say to not get in trouble, and go back to your break room or wherever it is that you would rather be.”

Ethan watched me, unperturbed. He paused as if contem-plating everything I'd just said. I braced for the comeback.

But he just stood up and said, “Okay, then,” before heading straight out the door, closing it behind him.

What?

I had so not been expecting that.

Suddenly I was alone again. I couldn't understand why
I felt so terrible. I did
not
care what Ethan thought of me, or about spending time with him. I definitely didn't need to have him know the truth about my life, lives, whatever. And yet . . . I couldn't stop watching the door, waiting to see if he would come back.

Every so often I heard him walking up and down the hall, opening and closing doors. Room checks. After it had been quiet for a while, I gave up expecting a return visit. At what I thought must be close to 11:00 p.m., I decided to drink the first half of my concoction.

I almost spat out the first mouthful. It was offensively bitter—the flavor assaulting my taste buds and making me gag. Somehow, I managed to keep that mouthful and subsequent ones down, wishing the whole time I had something to chase it with to take the edge off.