Between the Lives - By Jessica Shirvington Page 0,38

‘I’ll see you tomorrow, Sabine. Ethan will be stopping by to see you this evening. Do you have any objections to him passing on his notes to me?’

Silence.

Dr Levi clicked his pen a couple of times. ‘I’m sorry, Sabine, but this is one question I will need an answer to before you leave the room.’

I closed my eyes again, wanting the appointment over with. ‘I don’t care what he tells you,’ I mumbled.

He scribbled something on the otherwise untouched page of his clipboard and opened the door. ‘Macie, can you please see Sabine back to her room?’

‘Of course, Dr Levi,’ Macie responded, walking up to me. ‘Sabine, let’s go.’

I drew in one last sun-warmed breath and stood up to follow her.

As we walked down the hall, she watched me carefully, as if half expecting me to bolt. Honestly – I considered it.

‘An early lunch will be delivered to your room. Would you like to use the bathroom before you go back?’ she asked in a flat tone.

I sighed, but said, ‘Sure.’

The bathroom reminded me of the one in our gym at school. Open shower cubicles and a row of toilets. I headed straight for a toilet cubicle.

‘You’ll need to leave the door unlocked,’ Macie said, positioning herself by the sinks.

I stared at her.

‘You can pull the door closed,’ she explained. ‘But if I feel the need, I will open it at any time. Until you are off SW, no locks. It’s the rules.’

I gritted my teeth and went into the cubicle. It was utterly humiliating to have someone waiting right outside the door who could, at any time, decide to ‘open sesame’. Needless to say, it was a speedy toilet trip.

Macie walked me back to my room, returning when my lunch was delivered to watch me eat every mouthful of my sandwich. By the time she had checked the tray to make sure I hadn’t palmed the plastic wrap – probably in case I had some grand suffocation plan – I was seething. This should not have been happening to me.

‘It gets easier,’ Macie offered, her expression softening slightly.

I didn’t respond.

‘Room checks are on the hour during the day and randomly at night,’ she said as a parting comment.

Great.

Once alone, I sorted through the small bag of belongings my parents had left. I almost laughed at the clothes they’d chosen. Not a single one of my favourite minis. My old stuffed bear was in the mix, my pillow, a ten-dollar bill with a Post-it note that said ‘vending machine money’, and – surprise, surprise – my new notebook.

Stunned, I opened the book, not sure what to expect. It was blank. The pages I’d already written on had been ripped out. Anger reaching overload, I threw the book at the wall.

Nice one, Mom.

There was a quick rap on the door. It opened a fraction and Macie’s head popped through the gap. ‘All okay?’

I collected the book from the floor. ‘Fine. Do you have a pen?’ I asked.

She paused. ‘No pens, but I can bring you a marker.’

I nodded. ‘Thanks.’

When Macie returned with the marker she informed me that dinner would be at 5.30 p.m.

‘What? No one eats dinner that early!’ I argued. Were they kidding?

Macie just shrugged and left.

For the millionth time, I had to hold back the urge to scream. I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at my notebook, marker in hand. I needed to regroup. But where did I go from here? Being locked up had not been part of the plan.

Hours drifted by, but the page in front of me remained blank and my frustration only intensified.

Eventually I gave up and decided to change out of my hospital gown.

I glanced at the clothes my parents had sent and decided to stick with the outfit I’d been wearing when they brought me in. As I yanked my skirt off the top of the pile, something fell to the floor.

I crouched down and picked up my silver butterfly necklace. Hands shaking, I glanced at the door. It hadn’t been that long since the last room check, so I dared to unscrew the top.

Mouth agape, I stared at the ground-up Digoxin and almost laughed. Of all the things to allow in this room with me, somehow this had slipped through. I replaced the top on the butterfly and dangled it from my hand, trying to figure out why they hadn’t confiscated it. Maybe they’d decided the dainty chain was barely strong enough to hold the butterfly, let