Page 43 of Heart Sick

“The girl with the finger puppet! She’s there.” I look at the spot she was at, certain she’s still here, but she’s not.

“It’s going to be all right. We’re going to get your medicine, and then you’re going to have a nice nap.”

“Stop talking to me like I’m crazy!” I holler, spittle running down my chin.

“It’s going to be all right,” he repeats, which just makes me feel even crazier.

With his knee pressed between my shoulder blades, I can’t move, but my eyes scan the tunnel, and I wonder how they got rid of the girl so quickly. I look for the smashed video camera, but notice that is also missing.

What’s going on?

I don’t have time to answer my own question because before I know what’s happening, two hands become six and I’m rolled onto a stretcher. I don’t have time to fight because one set of hands are strapping my feet. While another pair is tightening the leather belt around my chest.

And the last pair is stabbing something into the vein in my arm.

“Motherfuck—” But I don’t get to finish my sentence because everything soon quietens, and down the rabbit hole I go.

Thy drugs are quick.

I’m worried.

It’s been two days since I’ve seen Bowie.

When I asked the orderlies about him, all I’ve been greeted with is a big fat nothing. Something isn’t right. My heart aches, and I don’t know why.

This place has a way of making an hour feel like ten. I need to get out of here because the longer I’m in here, the worse my mental health becomes. There are whispers among the patients that something happened to Noah, which is why he’s not been at work.

I’m not complaining about the fact, but I know that the reason has got something to do with Bowie.

“You’ve got a visitor.”

I peer up from my chair by the window and see the smiling face of a young nurse. She must be new. Give her a month, and I doubt she’ll be smiling.

She wheels the chair over to me, indicating walking isn’t an option. I don’t bother arguing because I want to see who’s come to see me. I sit in the chair and don’t flinch when she straps me in.

Bless her when she attempts to make conversation, like this is a normal occurrence. “They said we’re supposed to get some sun this weekend. Should be nice.”

You know what would be nicer? Getting the fuck out of here.But I play along.

“Sounds lovely. You’ll have to enjoy it for me.”Seeing as I’ll be strapped to my bed,I silently add.

She doesn’t bother with any further conversation after that.

She unlocks the door to the visitors’ lounge, and when I see Joy, a bag of mixed emotions weighs me down. I want to be happy to see her, but she’s the reason I’m in here.

When she sees me, she stands, nervously straightening out her sundress. Correction,mydress. I don’t know why it pisses me off because it wasn’t uncommon for her to ask to borrow my clothes. But that’s the thing, sheasked.

Now, it just feels like an invasion of privacy.

She reads my expression for what it is and sits quickly.

The nurse wheels me over to her but doesn’t unstrap me. She smiles and gives us some privacy, which is horseshit as there’s no such thing in this place. Joy toys with the gold crucifix around her throat. If she’s waiting for me to speak first, it’s probably best she goes back home.

“How are you?” she asks after a full minute of silence.

“How do you think I am? Seeing as you think you know what’s best for me.” I can’t keep the cattiness from my voice because I’m angry.

“I did what I thought was best,” she says, eyes filled with tears.

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