5

APRIL 18 I wasn’t able to write yesterday. It was too risky getting to the room.

I have seen the Doctor again. Last night I woke to find him standing beside me, his hand on my wrist, checking my pulse. It took all my control not to let out a scream, or reach out and take his neck in my hands. Somehow I managed to stop myself, force my eyes to flicker without recognition, and close again while I slowly counted out my breathing, trying to stop my pulse from racing. I heard him walk to the end of my bed and check my charts and all the time I felt the hatred swirling up inside of me, mixing wildly with my fear. Then I heard him walk away. I took a risk and opened my eyes again. He was still out in the corridor, talking to a nurse. About me I bet. About my medication.

Whatever it is he thinks I’m taking it must be strong. Four days without it has not been enough to clear my head. There are times when my eyesight goes fuzzy and I can only write this in small bursts, before the words lose shape.

There have been three different nurses bringing my pills round so far. Two of them don’t worry me at all. They’re always rushing and don’t seem to notice much. It’s easy enough to slip the pills under my tongue, I don’t even have to pretend to swallow. The third is called Margaret and Margaret is different. She is older, about my mother’s age, only unlike my mother there’s not much she misses. Last night, after she had handed over the little paper cup with the three pills rattling inside, she stopped and stared me down. I looked away, like I hadn’t noticed, but still I could feel her eyes on me, not moving until I handed back the empty cup and I finished the glass of water she’d given me. It is as if she knows but she isn’t saying, doesn’t want to give anything away. Neither do I.

I took a chance coming here today. I knew another day without writing could break me. There was someone standing in the nurses’ station but they were busy reading from a folder and I hurried past, head down, hoping they wouldn’t notice. Then I ran, as best I could, so even if they followed I might lose them. I decided to wait here a while before I got this book out, just in case. Being careful is second nature now.

When the door opened, part of me was expecting it. I’d tried to lock it but that needed a key. I was sitting on the chair with my knees up under my chin, trying to look harmless and crazy. I am lucky it was only Andrew, one of the orderlies. They must have been too busy and sent him out to look. I don’t know how he knew to try in here. He’s one of the better ones around here, as far as I can tell. He’s always smiling, no matter who he’s dealing with—some up-himself doctor or a patient who’s losing it. Not that I trust him. I don’t trust anyone here, not until it’s done.

So when he smiled at me I didn’t smile back. I didn’t move.

‘You all right?’ he asked and I didn’t respond. I willed him to leave it there, to walk away. He had to think about it, and in the wait our silence grew larger.

‘Okay, just our little secret then,’ he whispered and I had to bite my tongue hard to stop the relief from spreading over my face. He shut the door behind him when he left and I moved the chair so I was sitting up against it. That was forty-five minutes ago and still no one has come so I figure it’s safe now to be writing this.