“Hmm.” She places a finger on her pointed chin. “I have attended many parties with my husband. We meet quite a few faces.”
None like my parents.
“That must be it,” I respond without blinking.
“Well, I’d ask you to give them my best, but you are in here after all for the time being.”
A burst of hope fills my lungs. I wonder…could they be here right now? Where in history are we? Is my father a patient? Is my mother a conformist?
“We have decided not to commit you to the female ward after receiving new information.” Suseas nods at the nun still praying in the corner. “I understand you believe you can time travel.”
Vrath, you stupid, conniving fucker.
I nearly bark out a laugh. But this isn’t funny. Not at all. It’s one thing to be committed for eating too much. Yes, the treatments are fucked up to get a woman to comply with surviving off of fucking breadcrumbs to lose weight, but it’s all nothing compared to being committed to that one special wing of the asylum…
“Welcome to the Intricate Section. We bring very, very special cases here to rehabilitation.”
I am swallowed by a collapsing black tide of terror, my body suspended in its violent current with no shore in sight. No hand to pull me from the stormy waves. Though this ward is silent now, the screams that have echoed down these halls have been absorbed into the shadows of each room. And I am locked away, between these walls that breath like ribcages, getting smaller and smaller as it sucks the air out of the room.
“I…I don’t think I can time travel,” I sputter out frantically. “You received false information.”
Suseas looks down at me with pity. “I don’t believe we did.”
“No, really. This is so silly, Suseas. My…husbandand I attracted the attention of a terribly ill stalker! He has been spreading horrible lies about us.” I sigh and shake my head dramatically. “It’s a shame, really. My biggest crime I will admit to is, of course, eating too much.”
Forcing myself to say that last bit is the aftertaste of vomit.
“That is for certain.” Suseas giggles behind her hand.
Oh, fuck you.
“Will you just send me to the female ward, then?” I ask, then look around. “Wait, where is Ni—my husband?”
It’s frowned upon to gallivant around with a man who is not your husband in this time period. I’ll gain more respect if people think I am married to Niklaus.
“Out of moral precautions, we cannot send you to the female ward until we are certain your mind is no longer possessed with these notions of traveling through time.” She giggles to herself again. “Your husband has been committed to this section as well. He is in room three.”
Only a slight glimmer of relief. At least we’re both here in case I travel again.
“Moral precautions,” I repeat.
“Yes.” Suseas nods.
“You think it is moral to hold a woman against her will for eating until she is full?”I—I have a death wish.
“Excuse me?” The head conformist tilts her head.
I drop my head. “I’m sorry.”
Suseas narrows her eyes and stares at me until I lift my gaze to meet hers again. Even though I’ve been to many different moments in time as of late, looking into the face of the head conformist of the Emerald Lake Asylum is looking into the face of the past. She has the blood of the asylum written all over her. Every inch. Her lengthy figure. Elongated face. Makeup so pristine she looks like a mannequin in the main street boutiques.
“I’m prescribing you a strict diet for the next three weeks, then we will reassess.” Suseas turns to the orderlies as she scribbles on her clipboard. “Six a.m. she will have three raw eggs and a glass of water to wash it down. Lunch will be rolled oats and two laxatives. Dinner a glass of water and a tablespoon of cod liver oil.”
My mouth falls open.
“Sundays are fasting. Wednesdays administer an enema in the morning and at night.” Suseas peeks over her clipboard, eyeing my physique one more time. “Let’s add an emetic purge as well. Ipecac syrup with some water. I’ve seen gorgeous transformations from this weekly. Oh, and on Fridays, she will be weighed in front of the female ward with the others.”
Weighed? Publicly?
