Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 110492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110492 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 552(@200wpm)___ 442(@250wpm)___ 368(@300wpm)
She wished she could get something else—something fresh—even a banana or an apple would be nice. But while St. Elizabeth’s was an expensive facility, they clearly didn’t spend the money they charged for care on the food they fed their patients.
Instead of eating, Torri concentrated on the lukewarm cup of coffee she’d picked up along with her morning meal. There was too much cream and sugar in it, but she drank it anyway, wincing at the over-sweetness and wishing it had caffeine.
“Hey!” Gloria glared at her from across the table. “What are you doing with my coffee? Huh? That’s mine you know—you stole it from me!” She pointed at Torri’s coffee cup.
Torri ignored her, wishing for the thousandth time, that she could just sit by herself. There was an empty table across the dining area—she stared at it longingly. But alas, the powers-that-be at St. Elizabeth’s deplored solitude. You weren’t allowed to sit at a table unless there was at least one other patient there to sit with.
She went back to her coffee, ignoring Gloria asking how she had “stolen” it and at last breakfast time was over.
After breakfast, came group goals—where they all sat in a circle in the Group Therapy room and talked about their goals for getting better and living in the outside world. Of course, this was a pipe dream for most of the patients here and Torri was beginning to think it was impossible for her as well.
Never should have signed that form, she thought for the hundred thousandth time. Never should have let Chuck talk me into that “overnight” evaluation.
But her husband had been so upset, wearing the bulky bandage on his face that covered the stitches where she had stabbed him in her sleep. He had insisted that she needed help and Torri, feeling awful about what she’d done, had agreed and meekly signed the forms, giving away her freedom with a stroke of the pen.
But once you had been admitted to St. Elizabeth’s hospital, she found, it was almost impossible to get out again.
Maybe I should try calling Chuck again, she thought, as she sat in the Group Therapy circle on a hard plastic chair and listened to Gloria blather on about how once she got free of “this place” she would go find the women who had stolen her diamond jewelry and make them give it back. Maybe he’ll pick up this time—maybe he’ll come visit me and sign me out.
She didn’t have much hope of this. Her husband had stopped returning her calls and had somehow always just “stepped into a meeting,”—at least to hear his receptionist, a slinky blonde named Amanda tell it,—whenever she tried to get him on the phone. But Torri kept trying.
She hoped that if she could just get him on the phone, he would listen to her and come get her out. After all, hadn’t they vowed to stay together for richer and for poorer—for better and worse? She was definitely doing worse right now and she needed him to step up for her. Not that he ever had before, but there was a first time for everything—right?
I’ll call him, she thought, looking down at her hands. I’ll try again—why not? What have I got to lose? How else am I ever going to get out of here?
After Group Goals, it was Physical Activity Hour. This meant Torri got a small amount of solitude because she was allowed to walk around the part of the grounds which were walled off. The recreation area was a large, empty space with a big old maple tree in one corner, right by the far edge of the high, concrete wall. The ground crew were careful to keep the lowest branches trimmed so that no one got any bright ideas about using the tree to scale the wall. Nobody but a giant could have reached the lowest branch, which was a good twelve feet off the ground.
Torri wandered around the recreation area, looking up at the cold blue Autumn sky above, watching the birds fly past as they made their way South for the coming winter. When she’d been admitted, it was still summer. Now it was getting close to the middle of October—peak leaf season. The maple tree’s leaves were a riot of gorgeous crimson, vermillion, and gold. She shivered and pulled her hospital issued sweater, (no buttons to avoid swallowing incidents) tighter around her.
Am I ever going to get out of here? And when I do, will it be too late to get anyone to listen to me? About them—the invaders—the ones coming for us?
There were no answers. And soon enough, recreation time was over and she had to make her way back to the cafeteria for lunch.
Lunch was pretty much like breakfast. There were cheeseburgers and fries—one of the better meals the hospital cafeteria made—but Torri couldn’t get any ketchup or mustard because Gloria had gathered them close to her plate, like prize possessions.