The only warmth here.
“I need to warn you about a few things. Well, a lot of things, actually. Just because you’re in a hospital doesn’t mean you’re safe. There’s been a fair amount of murders, rapes, and thefts in the last couple of months. Don’t go off the floor. Don’t wander alone. If you’re uncomfortable around a certain patient, don’t go into their room without someone. If they ask you to do them favors—refuse. Don’t accept gifts, money, or anything they offer. Just the other week, a nurse ate chocolate that was given to her by a patient she adored and died from rat poison.” He pauses. “I’ve read a lot about you, and I know everything.”
My eyes bulge with surprise. He clears his throat but tries to be discreet about it while closing the folder he’s holding.
Does everyone know about me around here? I wonder what he read. No doubt, he read about my sin, but what other information is there?
“Come with me,” he says.
As I follow Sutton down the hall, my stomach somersaults. I grip the front of my shirt as sweat drips down my back. I hate the unknown. New things intimidate me and the last few days have been nothing but new. It makes me feel devoid of any energy at all.
I hear nurses laugh and then immediately turn and whisper as I pass.
“Ignore them,” Sutton tells me.
“I’ll try.”
Men whistle from their rooms, and I keep my head locked in place.
“I love me a naughty nurse,” one says. “Can you bathe me, sweetie?”
Again, the nurses laugh and Sutton shakes his head. I want to curl into a ball and roll far away from here. Being called something you’re not gets really old.
I put my fingers in my ears, trying to make it look like I’m rubbing them, and enjoy the muffled voices. Sutton takes me around the hospital floor, showing me where everything is and where not to go.
“Do you usually give tours?” I ask.
He chuckles. “This is actually my day off. I just came in to catch up on some charting. We got slammed last night, and I couldn’t keep up. But it all worked out. Since I had to come back and finish my paperwork, I got to meet you and show you around. Something I never get the chance to do.”
I try to suppress my surprise, but it’s hard to do. Why would a doctor want to do my orientation?
“You actually keep records here?” I ask.
“Not exactly.”
He leads me down the main hallway, and I count ten doors as we pass. He reads the expression on my face.
“One patient per room,” he explains. “No such thing as having a roommate here. It’s safer that way.”
Luxury in the Hole. That’s a first.
The rooms are identical with one mattress on a wooden frame that’s supposed to resemble a bed and a simple bedside table. A chair sits in the opposite corner near a four-drawer chest made from corkboard and a bathroom you can almost stand in. White industrial-grade tiles with small specks of color line the floors with multiple cracks and warping. No light. Just a candle.
“This is the soiled linen closet that you’ll get acquainted with. It’s your new best friend.” He opens the door and lets me look inside. “All new personnel start here.”
Two guards, in their typical stiff uniforms, walk toward us. They nod at Sutton as they stroll by. As he turns to speak, one of them winks at me.
“There’re always guards coming and going. You have to be on your toes at all times,” he says as if he knows what happened behind his back. He swipes his badge, and we reenter his office. “The guards are cocky and will give you a hard time because they can. They have no boundaries, even in the hospital. Just watch your back.”
He sits at his desk and leans back.
“Everything on this floor is under surveillance. The back staircase is the only exception. Years ago, the cameras were damaged and fixing them isn’t within our budget. There’s no way in or out of the building from those stairs. You can go to the basement or the morgue—all of which are dead ends.” He pauses and says with a laugh, “Not a very upbeat orientation, is it?”
I smile. “No.”
Finally, someone with a sense of humor.
I can’t remember the last time I smiled.
“Did you pick me or was I assigned to you?” I ask, remembering my earlier conversation with Cole.
“To tell you the truth, I don’t know what their methods are,” he says as he pulls something out of his desk. “Your keys.” He throws them to me.
I catch them with both hands, losing my balance and falling off my chair.
“Well, that was graceful. Are you all right?” He offers me his hand, and I take it. “Do you have any questions for me?”