“Lobotomy,” a flat voice said behind Sage.
Sage looked over her shoulder to see who’d spoken. It was Norma, grave-faced and fidgety, her eyes dark and wild. Sage turned back to Tina, the image of an icepick going through her eye socket and into her brain making her nauseated.
“Why would they do that to her?” she said, her voice choked. “There was nothing wrong with her. She wasn’t a troublemaker or anything.”
“Probably needed to teach a new doctor how to do it,” Norma said. “Happens all the time. So you better be careful.”
Sage rested a hand over Tina’s. Her fingers felt cold as ice, hard as bones. “But why her?” she said. “It doesn’t make sense.”
“Why not?” Norma said. “At least she didn’t die like some of the others.”
CHAPTER 8
Sage shivered beneath her thin blanket while the other residents cried and shouted and laughed and mumbled, jumped and crawled from bed to bed, and wandered around the ward despite it being after midnight. Hungry, cold, and exhausted, she ached for sleep. After destroying the orange pills that morning, the sights and sounds of her day had been crystal clear, and now they played over and over inside her head like a horror movie on a continuous loop. Along with the usual fights and chaos in the dayroom, Wayne had broken one woman’s nose and whipped another with his belt; two girls had vomited all over each other; a teenage girl had fractured another teenager’s arm; and Sage had tripped over a woman she thought was asleep, only to discover she was actually dead. Along with those ghastly images, she couldn’t stop thinking about Tina in the bed next to her, lying silent and still as a rag doll.
A thousand times, she thought about keeping the orange pills the next day to take at night so she could sleep, but she decided against it. She had to keep a clear head. And if God or fate was on her side at all, she’d be released before then. Struggling to erase the grisly pictures in her brain, she tried to stop thinking about the things she couldn’t change or control. She couldn’t help Tina or anyone else right now—not as long as she was trapped inside Willowbrook—but somehow, some way, she had to help herself. And she had to find Rosemary. She refused to believe she’d stay locked up here forever, day after day spent among the forgotten girls and young women sent away by parents and foster homes, abandoned to battle their way through this gruesome existence until they grew old or died. She had to believe she’d learn what happened to her sister and find a way out. She had to. There was no other choice. And yet, it was easy to fall into the deep, dark pit of despair.
As exhaustion finally pushed her toward the edge of a troubled, restless unconsciousness, she sensed a presence above her, looming like a dark weight over her bed, getting closer and closer. Startled, she tore the blanket off her head and gaped into the inky vault of the ward.
Norma stood gazing down at her, a pallid ghost caught in the weak moonlight that seeped through the grimy windows. She held one finger to her lips, the blood-soaked gauze around her wrist seeming to glow in the dark. Sage glanced over at Marla to see if she noticed Norma standing there. Not that Marla would do anything, but if Norma planned to hurt her or do something stupid, at least there would be a witness. As usual, Marla was asleep in the cubicle, her head tilted back in the chair, her mouth open.
Sage peered up at Norma. “What are you doing?”
“I want to show you something,” Norma said.
“Go back to bed.”
“No, I have to show you.” Norma turned toward her invisible friend, listened, nodded, then regarded Sage again. “I can’t tell you.”
Sage couldn’t imagine what Norma wanted to show her. There was nowhere to hide anything of importance or value. Not that she knew of, anyway. Maybe Norma was imagining things, or lying, or trying to trick her. Then she remembered that the best thing to do was ignore her. “You can show me in the morning,” she said.
Norma shook her head. “Can’t.” Crooking her finger, she motioned for Sage to follow her. “You have to come with me.”
“Unless it has something to do with my sister, leave me alone.”
Norma went still, then stomped her foot, pouting like an angry toddler. “I’m your sister.”
Sage opened her mouth to explain, but stopped. Pissing Norma off again was a bad idea. And maybe whatever she wanted to show Sage did have something to do with Rosemary. Even the smallest clue could help. But if she wanted to get anywhere with Norma, she had to play along. “I’m sorry,” she said. “That’s not what I meant. I meant unless it has something to do with where I was hiding when I left before, please leave me alone.”
Norma smiled, a wide, mischievous grin that transformed her face from that of an angry young woman into an impish child with a headful of secrets. “It might have something to do with that,” she said. “But you have to come with me if you want to see.” Then she sat on the edge of the bed and roughly petted Sage’s head, running her fingers through Sage’s hair and catching strands in her nails. She smelled like sweat and sour milk.
Sage went stiff, afraid Norma was going to do something crazy. “Please get off my bed,” she said.
Norma sighed contentedly, then stood, still grinning.
Sage sat up and put her feet on the cold floor, ready to push her away if she tried to sit down again. “Why can’t you just tell me?” she said.
“Because you need to see it with your own eyes.”
Sage started to ask her where it was, but Norma suddenly dropped to her knees and crawled toward the door, moving rapidly in the narrow space between the beds. A coil of fear twisted up Sage’s spine. Norma wasn’t right in the head, and the eerie, jerky way she moved along the floor looked like something out of a nightmare. This could be a trick, or even worse, a trap. Maybe she wanted revenge because she thought Rosemary had deserted her. But Sage had no choice. If there was the slightest chance Norma might show her something that could lead her to Rosemary, she had to follow her.
“Damn it,” she said under her breath, then slid out of bed onto her hands and knees. Norma glanced over her shoulder to make sure she was coming, her face blank, then kept crawling toward the exit. Where the hell was she going? Did she honestly think she could get out of the ward? When Norma reached the middle of the room, she disappeared beneath one of the beds like a spider scuttling under a cupboard. Sage stopped and peered over the tops of the beds filled with residents. Some lay with closed eyes; some were staring at nothing, others weeping, humming, talking, singing—a crumpled gray landscape of sheets and pale arms and legs and heads. Norma reappeared briefly, her head popping up in a narrow aisle, then went under another bed. Sage hunkered down, her elbows on the floor, trying to decide if she should follow her or stay put. Maybe this was a test. Or a game. Or a huge mistake. She peered over the beds again. When she saw Norma this time, her heart almost stopped.
She was inside the Plexiglas cubicle with Marla.
Panicked, Sage crawled as fast as she could back to her bed and scrambled beneath the blanket. Whatever Norma was up to, it was bad, and Sage didn’t want to be drugged again, or sent to the pit. A minute later, Norma reappeared at her bedside, dangling a ring of keys in front of Sage’s face.