Page 50 of Heart Sick

I have to play it cool.

“Can one really make friends in here?” I pose, knowing the less I reveal, the better.

Dr. Norton nods, and I know she’s scrutinizing everything I say. “That’s true. I’ve read over your file. You’re a very smart woman. You don’t belong in here.”

I hold my breath because although these are the words I’ve wanted to hear since awakening in this nightmare, I know what she’s doing.

“Therefore, I’m going to override any medical diagnoses and sign your discharge papers. You’ll be free to leave in the morning.”

A lump forms in my throat, but I smile. “Thank you so much, Doctor.”

She nods, but there is no kindness behind her actions. She’s doing this to keep me away from Bowie. She realizes I’m a threat to whatever she has planned for him, which means…I can’t go. I won’t leave him here to rot.

“You’re most welcome. You suffered in ways unimaginable. It’s natural for the response you’ve had. But does that warrant a stay in here? No.”

I want to ask what Bowie did then for him to be subjected to the torture he’s endured, but I don’t.

“I’ll organize a doctor to see you once you’re home and settled, but the best medicine for you is to be at home and attempt to heal.”

She’s overlooked the small fact that when I was there last, I tried to kill myself, so I don’t think being home is the best place to “heal.” But this isn’t about me.

This is about Bowie.

She walks around and grips the handles of his wheelchair. “It’s time for his medicine,” she says while I bite the inside of my cheek to stop from screaming out in protest.

How much more medicine can he take?

Dr. Norton reads my expression and smiles, but there is nothing comforting in the gesture. “Don’t worry, his heart is…strong.”

If that’s supposed to be a joke, I don’t get it.

“By the way,” she says over her shoulder as she wheels Bowie away. “That elderly gentleman you were talking to…don’t believe a word he says.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s in here for being a compulsive liar.”

And with that, she walks away, humming happily, while I question everything I thought I knew.

Two thousand and twenty.

Two thousand and twenty-one.

That’s how many small dots I’ve counted on the ceiling. The pattern I’m certain is to drive one crazy, or crazier, depending on who you speak to.

Usually, I would be sound asleep, but I guess because I’m being discharged tomorrow, Dr. Norton didn’t see the point in drugging me. As far as she’s concerned, I’m a problem she no longer has to worry about.

Anyone would be thankful their wish has been granted, but I just can’t leave. I know if I do, I’ll never see Bowie again.

I need to help him. I just don’t know how.

“I heard it’s your last night in here. Noah won’t be happy.”

Turning my head toward the doorway, I see the man who wheeled Bowie into the rec room. If he knows Noah, then he’s not a friend.

I remain quiet because I wonder if this is a sign. Is this bastard my meal ticket to stay?

He peers down the hallway before entering my room and closing the door behind him. It’s dark, the only light is coming in from the window from the moon.

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