CHAPTER 11
By Sage’s fifth day in Willowbrook, Ward D had gone two nights without heat and no one had showered since the day she’d arrived. Four residents had been wrestled into straitjackets and hauled off to who knew where. Two residents had died; one broke her leg. Yesterday, they’d been given only half portions of the ground-up meals, and a strange, itchy rash had started on Sage’s feet and ankles. She’d been spit at, screamed at, grabbed, slapped, and punched. She knew every wall and corner and piece of furniture in Ward D and the dayroom like a prisoner knows the inside of his cell. She knew who relieved themselves on the floor, who liked to piss off the attendants, and who refused to take off their soiled clothes. She knew who watched television and who acted like it didn’t exist.
After another exhausting morning of waiting in line for pills and forcing herself to eat one more watery bowl of mealy oatmeal, she sat in her usual corner in the dayroom, her eyes locked on the double doors, watching for Eddie, praying he’d talked to Alan or Heather or Dawn. She imagined Dr. Baldwin coming into the dayroom, apologizing, and taking her to meet Alan or her friends in the lobby.
When Eddie finally appeared, it was all she could do not to cry out and run over to him. But they couldn’t talk about their plans in front of Wayne—no matter how hard it was, she had to wait a little longer. After emptying the trash and sharing a cigarette with Wayne, Eddie finally made his way over to her.
“I went to your stepfather’s after work again,” he said. “He didn’t answer and I didn’t hear the TV this time, but I pushed another note under the door, then talked to the building supervisor. He said Alan went up to the Adirondacks to go ice fishing with his buddy . . . what’s his name?”
“Larry?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
She opened her mouth to reply but couldn’t speak. Despite knowing how little Alan cared for her, the news that he’d left on a fishing trip knocked the wind out of her lungs. Surely he’d seen the first note Eddie had slipped under the door. But he’d left anyway. When she found her voice again, it cracked. “Of course he did,” she said. “Now that I’m not around, he’s free to do whatever he wants. Did the super say when they were coming back?”
“No, he saw them packing up a truck yesterday morning. I’m sure Alan will call Dr. Baldwin when he gets back, but I’ll stop by after work again in case they come home tonight.”
“What about Heather or Dawn? Did you talk to them?”
He shook his head. “No one was home at Dawn’s. I tried to leave a message for Heather, but her father tore it up and told me to get lost.”
“That sounds about right. What about your uncle? Have you talked to him yet?”
He nodded.
“And?”
“It’s like I thought. He told me not to get involved. And unfortunately, even if he believed my story about you and Rosemary, which I’m not sure he did, he can’t do anything to help anyway.”
She felt like she couldn’t breathe again. “Why not? I thought he was the head of some department here?”
“He is, but he has to be really careful right now because his coworker, Dr. Wilkins, just got fired.”
“What does that have to do with me?”
“It means my uncle can’t look into your case yet . . . I mean, your sister’s case, because he needs to keep a low profile for a while. The people in charge are already watching him because he and Dr. Wilkins tried to persuade Dr. Hammond, the director of Willowbrook, to demand more help from the state. Wilkins and my uncle were trying to make things better around here and now no one wants anything to do with them, not even the nurses or the attendants. After the parents picketed yesterday, Baldwin found out Dr. Wilkins was meeting with the parents’ association to talk about patient rights and the abuse happening here, so he fired Wilkins. And if anyone finds out my uncle was meeting with the parents too, he’ll get fired next.”
“I thought it was impossible to get someone fired here?”
“It is if you’re ratting staff out to administration. But Wilkins and my uncle have been ratting to the parents’ association about the administration. And the director of Willowbrook will do anything to protect those in charge. Now Dr. Baldwin’s trying to cover up the truth by spreading rumors that Dr. Wilkins molested one of the younger female residents. It’s a bald-faced lie, but my uncle doesn’t want the same thing to happen to him. If his career gets ruined, he won’t be able to help anyone.”
A throbbing lump filled her throat. “Well, if your uncle can’t help and you can’t find Alan or talk to one of my friends, what am I supposed to do? I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”
“I know,” he said. “But don’t worry. We’ll figure something out, I promise.”
* * *
Sage couldn’t tell if she was awake or dreaming or dead. All she knew for sure was that she was on her side on a floor or a hard mattress and someone was shaking her, a heavy hand gripping her shoulder. She blinked and opened her eyes, the deep murkiness of a desperate, exhausted sleep clouding her mind. A weak shaft of moonlight fell across rows of iron beds filled with twisted, lumpy forms. At first she thought she was looking at an abstract painting, a monochromatic study of gray and black. Then she heard the cries and murmurs, the shrieks and laughter, and she remembered. The twisted forms were people. And she was locked inside Willowbrook State School.
The hand shook her shoulder again. “Wake up,” a low voice whispered. A hot breath puffed over her ear, moving her hair and making her shiver.
She turned her head toward the voice, certain it was Norma, and got ready to tell her to go away. But the person was too close. Their facial features were a blur, a disembodied head floating in the dark, yet somehow she knew it was a man. Wayne. She bolted upright and yanked the blanket to her chin, terrified. Then she saw the dark hair and broad shoulders.
It was Eddie.
“What are you doing?” she said. “How did you get in here?”
“I have my ways,” he said.
She scanned the shadow-filled ward, terrified that someone would see him and sound the alarm. Then she remembered that Wayne—or someone else—had been sneaking in to hurt Rosemary and no one had done anything to stop him. As usual, Marla was asleep inside the cubicle, her head tilted back against the wall, her mouth open. “What’s going on? Did you talk to Alan?
“No, he’s still not back yet. But I have a plan. I’m going to get you out of here.”
She drew in a sharp breath. “Right now?”
“No, but soon. I wanted to tell you so you’d be prepared.”
Adrenaline raced through her body, making her tremble. “How soon?”
“Tomorrow or the next day.”
“What’s the plan?”
“I overheard my uncle talking to Dr. Wilkins a few hours ago. Apparently Wilkins is meeting with a reporter to tell to him everything about Willowbrook. He’s hoping the reporter will bring in a camera crew to show the world what’s happening here. If the reporter agrees, Wilkins is bringing him here, to House Six.”
“But how would a reporter get inside? They won’t even let parents in to see their kids.”