“I really want to remember what happened,” Sage said. “So will you tell me if you remember anything else?”
Norma smiled and held up a pinky. “I will.”
Sage hooked her finger through hers and shook it. Then she put a hand on Norma’s arm. “Listen,” she said. “I know you like Wayne, but you shouldn’t come here with him anymore. And you need to tell someone he’s been bringing you here.”
Norma’s smile dropped from her face. “No,” she said, shaking her head furiously. “A promise is a promise. And I keepmypromises. Not like you.”
“But what if he’s . . .” She almost said “what if he’s Cropsey,” but stopped herself. Wayne was a sexual predator—a rapist, even—but it didn’t mean he was a serial killer. She didn’t think so, anyway. Still, she had to try to protect Norma. “What if he’s dangerous?”
Anger twisted Norma’s features. “You stop that,” she spat. “He’s not dangerous. He’s nice to me. Look.” She went over to a cloth bag hanging next to a straitjacket, reached in, and pulled out a handful of Pixy Stix. “He gives me a prize every time we come here.”
Sage closed her eyes for a moment, sick and furious at the same time. How could she make Norma understand without upsetting her? “Listen to me,” she said. “You have to tell someone what he’s doing. It’s not right. He’s not supposed to do that.”
“I said stop it,” Norma said. “You’re just mad because he loves me now.” She put the handful of Pixy Stix back in the bag, then took one out, ripped it open with her teeth, and dumped the contents into her mouth.
“No, I’m not mad. I promise. I don’t even like him. I just don’t want him to hurt you anymore. And what if you . . . what if he . . .”
“Puts a baby inside me?”
Sage nodded.
Norma laughed. “You know that can’t happen.” She put the Pixy Stix in her mouth again, shaking it until it was empty.
“Of course it can.”
“No, I had the operation, remember? Retards aren’t allowed to have babies.”
Sage’s stomach turned over again. As if medical experiments and lobotomies weren’t bad enough, female residents were being forcibly sterilized? Then a sudden realization hit her. If Rosemary had been sterilized, she’d have a scar. Maybethatwas how the two of them could be told apart! Adrenaline buzzed through her. Finally, she knew how to prove she wasn’t her sister.IfRosemary had the operation. AndifSage could find a doctor or nurse to check for a scar. “Do all the girls in Willowbrook have the operation? Did I have it?”
Norma shrugged. “I don’t know.” She crumpled up the empty Pixy Stix straw and threw it back in the bag. “Maybe.”
Then Sage remembered that Marla had said residents couldn’t see a doctor unless they were bleeding or dying—sometimes not even then. And Tina said the same thing. Not to mention Sage had seen enough injuries and illnesses to know that the residents rarely got medical attention. Slowly but surely, her heart sank again. It had been impossible to get anyone to listen to her about anything; how would she ever get someone to look for a scar? She looked at Norma again—poor, broken Norma who couldn’t understand her own dreadful predicament.
“Okay,” Sage said. “But even though you had that operation, you can’t let Wayne bring you in here anymore. It’s not right.”
“I told you to stop it,” Norma said. “I’m his girlfriend now, not you.” Her voice was getting louder and louder. “So just stop it.”
Sage held up her hands. “Okay, okay,” she said. “Be quiet or you’ll get us in trouble.”
“Then quit making me mad,” Norma hissed.
“I’m not trying to make you mad. But if you don’t tell someone what Wayne is doing, I will.”
With that, Norma’s eyes went wild and she bared her teeth. “You promised you wouldn’t tell! You pinky swore!”
“I know,” Sage said. “And I’m sorry, but I can’t let him get away with it. Someone needs to stop him.”
“So you lied again,” Norma said, practically breathing fire. “And now you want to break another promise. But no one will listen to you!”
Norma was probably right, but Sage had to try. She started to say Marla might listen, but stopped. She’d seen that trapped-animal look in Norma’s eyes before, the day she smashed the wooden chair and cut her wrist, when she looked ready to die to defend herself. To avoid an argument—or worse—Sage dropped the subject and reached for the doorknob. They needed to go back to the ward. Then she remembered the keys.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “But why don’t we make a deal? I won’t tell anyone about you and Wayne if you give me Marla’s keys.”
“What?” Norma said, her eyes huge. “Why do you want the keys? To leave me again? I told you they don’t work on outside doors.”
“No, that’s not it,” Sage said. “I—”
Before she could finish, Norma shoved her backward with both hands, knocking her off her feet. Sage hit the shelves behind her, the wood smashing into her spine and shoulder blades like a row of sledgehammers. The serving trays on the shelves rattled and fell, clattering across the floor. Norma froze for a second, eyes wide with fear, then ran out of the supply room. Sage scrambled to her feet and chased after her.