Page 21 of Unwell
Keep moving.
The urge to get back to bed, to trap myself between the thin scratchy blanket, washed over me.
Each step was slow, though. My belly grew so fat and ripe that it seemed to deposit my baby right between my thighs.
I turned a corner, counting my heartbeats to keep me sane.
A figure huddled at the far end of the corridor, rocking back and forth in the dim light. His tortured face tipped upward as I neared, eyes glassy and staring at something beyond me in the dark. A long moan dribbled from his mouth, a handful of broken teeth marking his open mouth.
I passed with a shudder, the wall pressing against my back as I prayed he wouldn’t lurch at me.
My steps echoed in the hall, muffled, not crisp, and the sound made it seem half a dozen others walked around me. I turned, but there was nothing but the groaning man.
But prickles crawled up my spine with every ragged breath I took, the footsteps ricocheting through the halls. I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was following me.
Watching me.
My neck heated as I spun around, eyes darting from one dark spot to another, trying to find the source of my unease.
But the whole asylum was thick with unease.
My skin crawled with it.
My heart battered at my ribs, like the hooves of thundering cattle. The echo of footsteps was out of sync with my own.
More than an echo.
I quickened my pace, holding my stomach up with my hands to stop the pregnancy waddle.
Mottled wallpaper and cracked edges passed me as I panted.
Run.
I bolted, losing my slippers as I fumbled. My feet slapped loudly on the linoleum as panic surged. By the time I reached my ward, I was sobbing.
But I wasn’t safe.
The moment I collapsed on my bed, a weightpressed down on me. Pinning me to the mattress. I couldn’t see who it was, but hands pushed into my hair.
‘No, please don’t!’ I thrashed and flailed against my unseen attacker. My writhing didn’t unseat the oppressive weight on my back.
Then the tearing began.
Fingers clawed through my hair, jerking my head back. Strands yanked tight against my scalp. A blistering pain across my temple made me cry out as something sharp bit into my skin.
Into my hands.
‘Stop! Stop it!’ My ears rang as the pain made me whimper. I fought, but the tearing only grew harsher, more frenzied. I felt a jagged scrape along my neck, warm wetness spilling over my pillow.
Clumps of hair fell around my face, sticking to my bloodied skin as I thrashed. I tried to claw the hands away, but couldn’t grip them from my position facedown on the pillow. Instead, all I caught were sharp splinters biting into my skin.
Pain.
Fear.
And someone holding me down.
THIRTEEN
