I wake up in a small square room. I am lying in a low bed with a narrow metal frame, tucked in tight, under the clean white covers.
There is an electric strip light running across the ceiling which is not turned on.
The room is in semi-darkness, and when I sit up, I think I see the shadow of a man sitting on the end of my bed, waiting for me to wake up. I kick out with my legs, and the man disappears.
My eyes adjust to the darkness. There’s a door with a small glass window: shatterproof, which throws a warm yellow square of light on the linoleum floor. The walls are white and smooth, and in the corner of the room is a sink. There is a box with the fingers of gloves protruding from it, and a large canister of hand sanitizer. There’s no mirror above the sink. A toilet to my right, plumbed into the wall.
I get out of bed. I am wearing a hospital gown, tight across the chest and open at the back. I turn the door handle, but it’s locked.
I start to shout then. Help me, please. Open the door. Anybody. Please.
I bang on the glass until it rattles. I look around for something I can use to break it, but everything in the room is secured to the ground.
A woman’s face appears at the door. She has red hair in a neat bun, and a warm, round face. She puts her finger to her lips.
I step back from the door and she unlocks it.
‘Is everything all right?’ she asks.
‘I can’t stay here,’ I say.
‘It’s only for the night,’ she says.
‘I want to see my son,’ I say.
‘Your son is at home,’ she says. ‘He’s coming for you in the morning. It’s best you try and get some rest now.’
‘I don’t want to stay here,’ I say. ‘Not on my own.’
‘It’s only for one night, Mrs Bjornstad,’ she says. ‘They’re making plans to move you tomorrow.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with me,’ I say. ‘I can stay with my son.’
‘The doctor wanted to keep you in,’ she says. ‘Just for tonight.’ Her face softens. ‘Do you want anything to eat? I think the kitchen is closed but I can try and get you something?’
‘Can I call my son?’ I ask.
‘I can’t let you use the phone,’ she says. ‘But he’s coming in the morning.’
‘Alone?’ I ask.
‘I’m afraid I don’t know.’
‘Can we put the lights on?’ I ask.
‘Sure,’ she says. ‘If you need anything else, just press the button on the wall.’
‘I’m sorry for the noise,’ I say. ‘I just wasn’t sure where I was.’
‘That’s all right,’ she says. ‘I hope you get some sleep.’
As she leaves, I hear the click of the lock behind her.