Page 30 of Ward D
I frown. “How do you know about that?”
“I could hear him screaming about it.” Will shakes his head. “I don’t know what he was doing that made them stick him in there, but the guy is obviously disturbed.Reallydisturbed.”
“So if he heard voices telling him to kill people, he would do it?”
Will drops his eyes. “Yeah. I’d imagine so.”
A chill goes through me, and I hug myself, rubbing my upper arms with my hands. “Dr. Beck said he’s leaving tomorrow. They’re putting him somewhere more secure.”
“Good.”
Will stands up from the piano bench. All the humor seems to have disappeared from his face, and he is still avoiding my eyes. “I’m going to head back to my room. The meds… They really make me tired.”
“It’s worth it though, right?”
He hesitates. “Yes. Of course.”
“Okay. Well, thanks for the music.”
“No problem.” He lingers for a moment at the piano, and he looks like he wants to tell me something. But then he shakes his head. “Good night, Amy.”
“Good night,” I say.
Although really, the night has just begun.
17
Hours Until Morning: 10
Ireturn to the staff break room to retrieve my cheese sandwich and attempt to eat it. I still don’t have much of an appetite, but I’ve got to have some sustenance to get through the night. Also, I want to send Gabby an update text.
When I open up the fridge, my dinner is nowtouchingthe milk that has gone solid, but I try not to think about it. The sandwich is wrapped and inside a bag—it will be fine. The whole refrigerator has a sour milk smell to it. Maybe I really will clean out the refrigerator tonight. It will give me something to think about besides the guy in seclusion who apparently wants to kill us all.
But first, I need to send a text to Gabby.
I follow her instructions the same as before. I get right up close to the window, pressing my phone against the glass. But while the last time I got a couple of bars, this time my phone still says “No Service.” So I can’t receive any of the messages that have come through since I got here, and I can’t send any either.
Great.
I drop my phone back in my scrub pocket and return to my gross sandwich. It’s bread, mustard, and two-year-old American cheese. It might be the worst sandwich I’ve ever had. But it’s the only food I brought tonight.
As I take a bite of my sandwich, footsteps grow louder outside the door. I lay down my sandwich on the table. “Cam?” I call out.
There’s no answer.
This time I carefully push back my seat and stand up. I squint at the open doorway to the staff lounge. “Cameron?” I say. When there’s no answer, I try again: “Dr. Beck?”
There’s no answer. But the footsteps grow louder.
“Jade?” I say in a choked voice.
There’s no reason to panic. Just because somebody is walking around right outside the door, it doesn’t mean someone is trying to attack me. I’m sure I’m perfectly safe. There’s only one dangerous patient on this unit, and he’s locked in seclusion.
Isn’t he?
I step tentatively in the direction of the door to the lounge. Just before I reach it, a figure appears in the doorway, completely filling the open space. It takes me a second to recognize Miguel, the man who greeted us when we first came in. The guy who thought he was the son of God.
He’s still wearing four T-shirts all on top of each other, adding even more width to his already bulky frame. Except he’s got something on his face now. He has white streaks across his cheeks that look like warpaint. Although when he gets closer, I think it might be cream cheese.
