Chapter 2

           WhenthefogclearstowhereIcansee,I’msittinginthedayroom.Theydidn’ttakemetotheShockShopthistime.IremembertheytookmeoutoftheshavingroomandlockedmeinSeclusion.Idon’trememberifIgotbreakfastornot.Probablynot.IcancalltomindsomemorningslockedinSeclusiontheblackboyskeepbringingsecondsofeverything—supposedtobeforme,buttheyeatitinstead—tillallthreeofthemgetbreakfastwhileIliethereonthatpee-stinkingmattress,watchingthemwipeupeggwithtoast.Icansmellthegreaseandhearthemchewthetoast.Othermorningstheybringmecoldmushandforcemetoeatitwithoutitevenbeingsalted.

           ThismorningIplaindon’tremember.TheygotenoughofthosethingstheycallpillsdownmesoIdon’tknowathingtillIhearthewarddooropen.Thatwarddooropeningmeansit’satleasteighto’clock,meansthere’sbeenmaybeanhourandahalfIwasoutcoldinthatSeclusionRoomwhenthetechnicianscouldofcomeinandinstalledanythingtheBigNurseorderedandIwouldn’thavetheslightestnotionwhat.

           Ihearnoiseatthewarddoor,offupthehalloutofmysight.Thatwarddoorstartsopeningateightandopensandclosesathousandtimesaday,kashash,click.Everymorningwesitlineduponeachsideofthedayroom,mixingjigsawpuzzlesafterbreakfast,listenforakeytohitthelock,andwaittoseewhat’scomingin.There’snotawholelotelsetodo.Sometimes,atthedoor,it’sayoungresidentinearlysohecanwatchwhatwe’relikeBeforeMedication.BM,theycallit.Sometimesit’sawifevisitingthereonhighheelswithherpurseheldtightoverherbelly.