No one comes for a long time. I think Iâm being punished. Iâm thirsty and I need to go to the bathroom. After holding it as long as I can, I finally pee in the plastic cup on my breakfast tray and set the full cup in the corner of the room. I pace back and forth, pulling at my hair until I think Iâm going to go crazy.
What if no one comes back? What if theyâve left me here to die?
The door wonât budge; I bruise my fists pounding on it. I scream for someone to help me until my voice grows hoarse.
Iâm sitting on the floor with my head in my hands when the door finally opens. I jump up. Itâs not the nurseâitâs someone else this time, younger. Her scrubs hang off her small body. She looks like a little kid playing dress-up. I eye her warily as she moves across my small room. She notices the cup in the corner and raises her eyebrows.
âDo you need to use the facilities?â she asks.
âYes.â
She sets the tray down and my stomach grumbles.
âI asked to see the doctor,â I say.
Her eyes dart left to right. Sheâs nervous. Why?
âThe doctor is busy today,â she says, not looking at me.
âWhere is the other nurse?â
âItâs her day off,â she says. I can smell the food. I am so hungry.
âI need to use the bathroom,â I say. âCan you take me?â
She nods her head, but she looks afraid of me. I follow her out of the little room and into the small hallway. What kind of hospital has the toilets in a separate area from their patientsâ rooms? She stands off to the side while I use the restroom, wringing her hands and turning an awful shade of pink.
When Iâm finished, she makes the mistake of turning toward the door. When she opens it, I pull the piece of pipe from my hospital gown and hold it toward her neck.
She faces me again and her beady eyes grow wide with fear.
âDrop the keys and back up slowly,â I say. âOr Iâll stick this straight in your throat.â
She nods. The keys clank against the ground, and I advance toward her, my weapon extended toward her neck. I push her backward, into the room, and shove her down on the bed. She falls back and cries out.
Then Iâm out the door, taking the keys with me. I pull the door shut as she flies toward it, her mouth open in a scream. We struggle for a moment, her trying to yank it open while I get the key into the lock and hear the metal click.
My hands are shaking as I sort through the keys, trying to find the right one to open the next door. I donât really know what to expect when I step through. A hospital hallway, nurses and doctors? Will someone be there to drag me back to that tiny room?
No.
Thereâs no way Iâm going back. Iâll hurt anyone who tries to stop me from getting out of here.
I donât see a hospital or staff or anyone else when I open the door. What I see instead is a very impressive wine cellar. Dusty bottles sit in hundreds of little holes. It smells of ferment and dirt. A staircase runs up one side of the cellar. There is a door at the top.
I run for the stairs, stubbing my toe hard on the concrete and feeling the wet blood run over my foot. I almost slip on it, but I catch onto the railing in time.
The top of the stairs opens to a kitchen, a single light illuminating the counters and floors. I donât pause to look around. I need to findâ¦a door! I grab the handle, and this time itâs not locked. I cry out in triumph as it flies open. The night air hits me in the face. I breathe it in gratefully.
Then I run.