Page 47 of Ward D
Again, there’s no reply.
I’m sure he’s just asleep though. He must be.
The lights were turned down in the hallway at ten p.m. to more of a mood lighting, so the glowing green keypad seems even more luminous. I could type in the code and make sure Sawyer is okay in there. Or make sure he’s still in there at all. It would be easy enough to do so. Then I can put my mind at ease.
It’s late enough that it’s quiet on the unit right now, but as I stand there, the sound of footsteps grows louder by the second. I look off into the distance to see who’s walking towards me. A shadow appears from around the bend, but before I can see who it is, the shadow vanishes.
“Hello?” I call out.
A sound echoes down the hallway. It almost sounds like a man chuckling to himself.
Before I can go investigate, I get distracted by a sound from Seclusion Two. While Damon Sawyer has gone silent, Miguel has definitely not. He is still singing to himself in the room. This time he’s belting out a Britney Spears song. He apparently wants me to hit him (baby) one more time. He doesn’t have such a bad voice, everything considered.
The dark hallway is filled with patient rooms. The light is on in room 906—Will Schoenfeld is still awake, probably reading. I still find that patient something of a mystery. He just seemed incredibly normal for a patient in a psychiatric unit. Like the sort of person I might be friends with if I met him in a different setting.
And as Jade noted, he’s my type. Cute, nerdy, lanky, well-read. And I liked his smile, the one time I got to see it. If I met him anywhere else but here and he flashed that shy smile and asked me out on a date, I would give him my number.
Of course, I would have had no idea that he was hearing voices telling him to kill people. So I dodged a bullet there.
It occurs to me that I could borrow something from Will’s John Irving collection. It would be comforting to read one of those books, and it might be enough to put me to sleep. He’d probably be willing to lend me one, and I would just return it in the morning.
The door to Will’s room is cracked open, and I knock gently. I don’t hear a reply, and I push it open slightly more. The room is empty, but the door to his bathroom is closed, and the light is on inside. He’ll probably be out in a minute.
He’s still got the stack of John Irving books on his dresser.Owen Meanyis right on top, because that’s the one he’s been reading. Obviously, I wouldn’t borrow that one since he’s reading it right now. I remove it from the stack and pick up the second book in line.The World According to Garp. Another of my favorites. This one would do nicely.
I pick up the copy ofGarpto flip through it. But when I flip open the first page, my heart stops.
This book has been hollowed out.
Someone has carved a large hole in the center of the book, leaving a space where objects can be stored secretly. Such as, in this case, a large number of multicolored pills. I recognize them as looking similar to the ones that Ramona has been passing out.
There are more than a dozen little pills stashed away in the hollow space. A dozen pills that Will was supposed to be taking to suppress the voices in his head—the ones telling him to kill people. He claimed that the voices had stopped after taking the medications. But now it looks like he hasn’t been taking those medications at all.
And then the toilet flushes inside the bathroom and the sink turns on. He’s almost done in there.
He’s coming out any second.
27
Oh my God.
Will is going to come out and realize that I’ve been going through his books and discovered his secret. He’s already got paranoid schizophrenia, and now I have discovered he is not on medications. What is he going to do when he realizes I know the truth?
I slam shut the cover to the copy ofGarpand shove it back in the pile of books. Then I balanceOwen Meanyback on top. I’ve got them just barely positioned correctly when Will emerges from the bathroom.
Will blinks a few times at the sight of me, like he’s not certain if I’m a figment of his imagination or not. Which makes sense, considering he has been pocketing his medications since he’s been here.
“Amy?” he finally says.
“Sorry,” I say quickly. “I was trying to get a little sleep, and I couldn’t, so I thought I could borrow a John Irving book for the night. But I understand if you don’t want to lend me one.”
Will adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Uh, sure. That’s fine. Which one do you want?”
I’m tempted to ask forGarp, just to see what he’ll say. But that would be tempting fate. The two of us are all alone in his room right now—and he’s mentally unbalanced. “Maybe…Cider House Rules?”
“Sure.”
He walks over to the stack of books. As he sorts through them, he hesitates on the copy ofGarp. He shoots me a look, his eyes narrowing, and I hold my breath. He opens his mouth, and I’msurehe’s going to ask me if I was looking through the book… but then he doesn’t. He goes right past it and plucks one of the paperbacks out of the stack.
