Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Robin
After another week of lying in bed feeling numb while doctors and nurses bring me food and medication and check on my vitals, I’m ready to admit I’m sinking into depression. I’ve never spent so much time alone, doing nothing but resting, and it doesn’t feel restorative at all.
Not while all I can think about and dream about is everything I’ve lost.
I’m starting to consider pulling out my drip and trying to escape again, even if I’m not sure where I would go, when I hear the door to my room being unlocked.
It’s a little after midday so it must be time for lunch.
I’m not used to having regular mealtimes, but the staff here do everything on a rota.
The door opens and I blink when I see Dr. Clarke is the one bringing me my food.
His visits have been more frequent ever since I attempted to escape, but they’re usually later in the afternoon and he’s never the one bringing me food or medicine.
“Dr. Clarke,” I start, clearing my throat. “Is something wrong?”
He gives me a reassuring smile.
“Nothing’s wrong. In fact, you’ll be happy to know you’ve made great progress this week.”
I sit up straighter, wondering why he’s here to see me if my progress is good.
He puts the food and water on my table and pulls it closer to where I’m sitting.
“Okay,” I murmur, glancing at the food and back at him. “What does that mean?”
I don’t want to get my hopes up, but he did tell me that I could leave once I was doing better.
My heart starts to race at the thought of getting out of here.
Finally, a break in the monotony of this forced bedrest.
It’s not like I have anywhere to go, but I could figure that part out, I’m sure.
Dr. Clarke looks back at me. “Lana would like to speak to you about what you think you might want to do when you’re given the all-clear to leave the medical ward.”
“Oh.”
So, I’m not ready yet.
That figures.
“You sound disappointed. How do you feel about what comes next?”
He has hint of worry in his gaze, and I can’t help but look away.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “But I don’t think I can stay in this room for much longer without losing my mind. I’m not used to doing nothing all day. I need something to do.”
“Hm,” he murmurs. “You’re probably doing well enough to start going for walks in the gardens.”
“Yes!” I exclaim quickly before he can take it back. “I’d love that!”
This room is windowless, and I’ve been stuck indoors for a lot longer than I’m used to. Getting some time outside would feel so good. I feel a smile coming on at the thought of it.
“I’ll arrange for someone to escort you out there this afternoon.”
The thought of an escort takes the wind out of my sails a little, but I should have realized I wouldn’t be allowed to go outside alone.
It doesn’t matter. I don’t care, as long as I get to see the sky.
“Sounds good.”
“If you wouldn’t mind speaking with Lana first, I can take you to her or I can ask her to …”
“I’ll go see her,” I cut in quickly. “I’m not hungry right now anyway.”
I’d much rather leave this room than have another visitor.
The effort of washing up and getting dressed is worth it.
“As long as you take your medicine when you get back here, that’s fine.”
He steps back as I pull back the bed sheets.
“Do I still need my drip?” I ask, since it’s a pain in the ass I’d prefer not to have to deal with anymore.
He nods slowly. “You’ll have to make sure you eat and drink properly, or you’ll only end up having to go back on it, but you’ve made enough progress to come off it now.”
“Awesome.”
He moves to the right side of the bed, and I let out a relieved sigh once he removes it.
He gets a dressing out of his pocket and wraps it around the bruised puncture mark.
“I had a feeling you might be ready to come off your drip.”
It feels like the first step to inevitable freedom, to have my arm free of that necessary evil.
I pull back the sheets, ready to get moving. I glance over my shoulder at him.
“It’ll probably take me more than a few minutes to get showered and dressed.”
He nods. “I’ll wait outside the room.”
He walks out and leaves me to the tiresome task of dragging myself out of bed.
I think about the promised walk through the gardens, and I can’t help but smile.
My legs feel wobbly as I stand up, which isn’t anything new, but it does kind of suck.
Despite my efforts to walk around the room a few times a day, I’m weak and slow-moving.
I think it’s the medication. Hopefully, I’ll be done with this course of antibiotics soon.
Supposedly, I caught a chest infection from a nurse who didn’t realize she was sick.
It felt like a regular cold to me, but with my immune system weakened from years of being underfed, Dr. Clarke felt it was a necessary course of action to put me on meds.
I told him I’ve never taken medicine for anything in my life.
I’m sure I would have been fine without them, but he insisted.
So, here I am trying to get around on wobbly legs.
I wince as I crouch slightly to reach the bottom drawer of the nightstand.
While several pairs of academy-supplied baggy pajamas fill up the top and middle drawers, the only set of clothes that I actually own are sitting in the bottom drawer, freshly washed and pressed when I was admitted to this ward.
It’s the outfit I was wearing the day I was stolen away from the place I thought was my home, and it’s the outfit I plan to wear when I finally get a chance to walk out of here.
I take the soft, worn-to-death stone-washed jeans and long-sleeved cream-colored shirt out of the drawer, along with my threadbare socks and underwear. I hug these items to my chest as I straighten back up.
These are the only things I have that belong to me.
A lump rises in my throat when I think of that.
Nothing I had in that house was ever really mine.
I didn’t have money to buy anything.
Everything I had was given to me by Colleen.
The tiny black and white TV she gave me for my 13th birthday is the most expensive thing I ever owned, and it’s lost to me now. Along with the rest of my clothes, and the flowers I took from the gardens to press and keep.
You can’t go back and get any of it.
It’s the first time that realization has hit me, and it hurts so deep I can barely stand it.
My vision blurs as I fight back tears, and my chest starts to tighten.
You’ll feel better once you’ve been outside.
I can only hope that’s true. It’s always helped to be out in nature in the past.
This is a little different. I’m not just in a randomly blue mood.
Everything has changed.
My whole world has been turned upside down.
I swallow the lump in my throat as I move toward the bathroom, shuffling my feet when my legs feel unsteady. I force myself to concentrate on what I’m doing, pushing the melancholy thoughts out of my head.
I take my time in the bathroom, and it’s only when I start to get dressed that I realize I’ve gained more weight than I thought.
Though my clothes were always a little on the loose side, thanks to being handed down from Colleen, now they actually feel kind of tight.
The jeans I used to keep up over my hips using a spare shoelace no longer seem to need that help to stay in place, which, as weird as it feels, isn’t really a problem.
On the other hand, my suddenly skin-tight light-colored shirt leaves me feeling self-conscious.
My chest isn’t as small as it used to be.
I never needed a bra, but it feels like I might need one now.
Looking at myself in the mirror gives me an odd feeling in my gut.
I don’t look like I used to.
My face is slightly more rounded, softer.
My eyes look brighter, less sunken.
And my clothes aren’t hanging limply on my body.
I look like I’ve thrown on the tightest top and jeans that I own.
It feels vaguely scandalous, like I’m dressing to attract attention.
That’s the last impression I want to make to the woman who runs this place, and anyone else I happen to come in contact with when I leave my hospital room.
If I had any alternative that wasn’t pajamas, I’d be taking it.
“They’re just clothes,” I remind myself as I try to be okay with how they fit.
I’ve already made Dr. Clarke wait an extra few minutes simply because I’m shocked that I have a curvier body now.
It’s so dumb. No one’s going to look at me. I know the people here see me as a patient. They don’t care what I look like, and I shouldn’t care, either.
I step out of the bathroom and move to the bed, picking up my sneakers from underneath and sitting down to put them on.
They were white when I got them, one of the only new items Colleen ever managed to get for me, but they’re worn-in and tattered from overuse, and they’re nowhere near as comfortable as they used to be.
At least my feet haven’t gotten bigger.
I’ve got to try to see the positive side.
I lace them and stand up.
I’m steadier on my feet now.
I take in a deep breath and let it back out slowly.
Everything changed for me the day I was brought here.
And everything is going to change again one day soon.
I’m determined to be ready for that.
Even if I’m not sure what it’s going to mean.