In between breaking up fights, Wayne stared at the television, smoked, or dozed. Sage had no idea how he could sleep with all the racket. Maybe, along with a heart, he was missing a soul too. Or at least that part of his brain that made most people troubled by the suffering and chaos around them. Then again, it seemed like most of the staff was missing that part of their brain, too. Or maybe they’d grown numb.
With no windows or clock to tell how much time passed, the minutes felt like hours and the hours felt like days. It seemed like she’d been trapped in the torturous dayroom for an eternity. But no one had brought lunch yet, which meant it was still before noon. How was that possible? She put her head in her hands and closed her eyes, the darkness behind her lids a welcome escape from the horror and misery surrounding her. Then she heard Wayne yelling and looked up.
Towering over one of the carts, he pointed at something in his hand and snarled at the occupant. Sage couldn’t be certain, but it looked like the cart she’d brought in earlier. How could the poor girl lying in that box be in trouble? She couldn’t walk, she couldn’t talk, she could barely move. Then Sage remembered.
The pills.
She jumped up and raced over to the cart. Wayne was holding the girl up, getting ready to shove the pills down her throat. “Stop!” she yelled. “I put them there! They’re mine!”
Wayne let the girl down and straightened, scowling at Sage. “What did you say?”
“I didn’t know what they were,” she said, breathing hard. “So I didn’t take them. I tried to drop them on the floor, but they fell in the cart instead.”
“Bullshit,” he said. “They’re the same ones you take every day.”
“I . . . I forgot.”
He held them out to her. “Well, now you know. So take them.”
She stepped back, shaking her head.
“Do it or you’re going to the pit.”
“Please,” she said. “Don’t make me.”
“Oh, I’m going to make you,” he said, moving toward her. “You can be damn sure about that. So we can do this the hard way or the easy way. It’s up to you.”
Fighting tears, she held out her hand. He dropped the pills into her palm, crossed his arms, and waited. She looked at him, eyes pleading.
“I’ve got all day,” he said.
“But I don’t need them,” she said. “I haven’t been causing any trouble.”
“Yeah, right,” he said. “You’ve been working on getting sent to the pit all morning. I’m actually starting to think you like it there. Now take the damn pills.”
“I don’t have any water,” she said.
“Too bad,” he said. “You should have taken them earlier.”
She closed her eyes and put the pills in her mouth, tears streaming down her face. Then she tilted her head back and swallowed hard. The pills were hard and gritty, like hunks of chalk, and they almost lodged in her throat. She swallowed again and again until finally they went down.
“Atta girl. See how much easier it is when you do what you’re told? Now sit down and shut up,” Wayne said, practically growling at her. “I don’t want to hear another word out of you today.” He turned and walked away.
Retreating to the back of the room again, she slid into a chair, fear tearing at her insides. Weed and alcohol were one thing, but pills were something else entirely. She’d never blown coke or swallowed so much as a Valium, but she’d seen the effect on those who had. And it wasn’t always good. Plus, the “Don’t Do Drugs” films in health class had terrified her. She dug her fingers into her thighs, considered the room full of howling, lurching, flailing residents, and braced herself for a bad trip. Next to her, the girl who’d had a seizure earlier was lying on a couch, her head still to one side, her eyes still closed. She looked dead. Panic vibrated through Sage’s body, running along her nerves like jolts of electricity.
Then her head grew foggy. She stretched out her hands but couldn’t see the ends of her fingers. She couldn’t remember ever being so tired, ever feeling so strange. She was outside her body somehow. Her skin felt clammy and on fire at the same time, and she tore at her sleeves; she couldn’t bear to have the material touching her arms. The monotonous wails and moans of the other residents felt like knives in her ears. She wanted to run, but couldn’t. She wanted to scream, but couldn’t. Everyone was looking at her, staring into her. Stop, she thought. Stop. Stop! Terror overwhelmed her. She couldn’t move her arms or legs. Her tongue felt like lead, her lips heavy and useless over her teeth.
Then she fell out of the chair, and the world went away.
CHAPTER 7
On her second morning in Ward D, Sage slowly opened her eyes, squinting against the fluorescent lights that glared down from the cracked ceiling. Her head felt like it had been split in two; her mouth and lips were parched and dry, and her eyes felt glazed over. If she didn’t know better she would have thought she’d been out on another bender. Except this was worse than any hangover she’d ever had. Her blood felt heavy as lead, the mattress beneath her wet with urine. Her skirt was wet too. The last thing she remembered after Wayne forced her to take the pills was someone feeding her green mush and orange juice. It felt like a nightmare—everything jumbled together behind a blurry, drug-induced haze. She sat up and dragged her hands over her face, trying to clear her head.
How did the other residents survive being drugged every day? Were they used to feeling this horrible? Then again, they were probably addicted by now, numb to everything but the high. And between the pills and whatever was in the orange juice, how could the staff tell how the residents were doing? Maybe they didn’t care.
She slid off the bed and stood, testing her legs. To her surprise, they held her up. She glanced over at Tina’s bed. Maybe she’d remember what happened. But Tina’s bed was empty. Sage looked over at the tiled shower room. Tina wasn’t waiting in line to use the toilet either. She was nowhere to be seen. On the other side of the ward, Norma sat on a bed against the far wall, watching Sage with an angry stare. Sage dropped her eyes and made her way over to Marla, who stood next to a bed removing urine-soaked clothes from a nearly catatonic woman.
“Where’s Tina?” Sage said.
“Don’t you worry about that,” Marla said. “You just mind your p’s and q’s today and everything will be fine.”
“Did something happen to her?”
Marla yanked the sleeves of the woman’s damp shirt from her arms and tossed it on the floor. “I told you not to worry about it, didn’t I?”
“I know, but she was fine yesterday.”
Marla shot her an irritated look. “She’ll be back soon enough. That’s all you need to know. Now hurry up and use the toilet or you’ll be next.”
“What do you mean I’ll be next? For what?”
Marla raised an impatient eyebrow, struggling to keep the naked woman from falling off the mattress. Afraid to push her luck, Sage did as she was told and got in line to use the bathroom. When Marla said she could be next, was she talking about where Tina was or something that was being done to her? Was Tina being punished? Had she been sent to the pit?