‘That isn’t true,’ she interrupts. ‘And I gave one out yesterday.’
I snort. ‘One? Please. I know you’re not here to work as a Blank. Which means you’re here for something else. Maybe you could use an ally.’
‘You?’ she asks incredulously, raising a brow. ‘No offense, Marguerite, but even if I did need an ally, how could you possibly help me? Aren’t you recovering from some kind of psychosis?’
I roll my eyes, and I see she’s surprised by the expression, by the dismissal.
‘Psychosis,’ I repeat with a chuckle.
I know I’m showing my hand, and I hope she doesn’t go to Stoke, but maybe if I want answers, I need to show a little trust first.
‘You must know that I wasn’t here when you started at The Heath,’ I say.
Her chin rises in defiance, but then she nods.
‘I asked them where you came from. I was told that you were in another part of the building before, but you weren’t, were you?’
I shake my head.
‘What’s your story?’ she asks quietly.
‘It’s too long to tell you,’ I answer, conscious that if I don’t return to the common room soon, I’ll be missed and someone will come looking for me.
‘We should talk. More, I mean.’ She steps closer and lowers her voice.
‘I’m a reporter,’ she says. ‘Stories about this place madeit to my desk. Dark stuff. Disappearances sometimes. Rumors?—’
‘And have you found your rumors to be true?’ I ask.
‘Some of them,’ she says.
‘Like the Stinger.’
She gives a small nod and then shakes her head, looking at the floor.
‘It’s illegal,’ she whispers. ‘They shouldn’t be doing this to people. To patients.’
‘Yes,’ I say quietly. ‘So, you’re here to find evidence to take them down, to get this place closed?’
She nods again.
‘Have you had any luck?’
‘Not yet. I only have my first-hand account of what it’s like here for the residents...’
‘Right,’ I say softly, cutting her off.
I wonder if I can trust her, but I quickly realize that it’s worth another risk. This could be my Plan B in case I can’t escape by myself. If the things this place does…if Stoke’s methods are revealed to the world, then maybe I can get someone unbiased to let me out of this fucking place.
‘The art room,’ I say, making up my mind. ‘The corner under the easels. The floorboards are loose.’
I leave the bathroom before she can say another word. I need to make sure I’m seen. I just hope I haven’t misjudged the reporter because she could make my life here a lot more difficult if she takes everything I’ve found to Stoke.
I make sure Crewes sees me walking through the corridors and then I go back to my room. Just inside the door, I find some worn trainers. I pick them up and examine them. They’re a size too big, but my lips curve up into a small smile.
I’ll bet these are from Stoke, which means that tomorrow, when I ask to go for a run, they’ll probably say yes.
They’ll be watching where I go, of course. I’m not an idiot. At least for the first few times I go out, I’ll need to stick to a normal run. No side quests, not even to feed the horses apples from the fruit bowl in the dining room.
