“Let’s keep our tone calm, okay?” he grits out like he cares.
I try to take another deep breath, but my lungs won’t fill all the way. “He’s lying,” I say, staring at the tablet. “You’re lying.”
He smiles. And it’s not cruel. It’s worse.
It’sprofessional.
“We’re trying to help you, Scout.”
One of the men digs around in his pocket, and I snap my gaze over toward him.
“What’s that?”
“Just something to help you relax.”
I shake my head. “I don’t need that.”
“It’s standard for sleep. It’s almost night.”
“I said I don’t?—”
“You can take it willingly,” the man on the screen says, voice still soft, still patient. “Or we can assist you.”
Assist. Like I’m a malfunctioning robot. Something broken.
My pulse pounds in my ears. Too loud. Too fast.
If I fight, they win.
If I comply…theystillwin.
My hands curl into fists in my lap.
“I’ll take it,” I say. The word scrapes on the way out.
A cup is held in front of my face. Two small white pills take up more space inside than I like. The end of something in two tiny capsules. My throat tightens.
They lift them to my lips. Then pause. Just long enough for me to wonder if this is the moment I disappear.
“I’ve got it from here. Thanks, guys,” a nurse with a braided beehive says. She grabs the straps on my back, lifting me from the chair.
The men surrounding me startle for a moment, then relax.
“You sure, Quincy? She’s a fighter.” He holds out the cup of medicine, but she doesn’t take it.
The screen with the man on it is rolled away, and I stumble to keep up with the woman beside me.
“This little thing?” she tosses over her shoulder as she leads me back down the hall. “I’ve seen worse!” Pausing, she throws a hand on her hip and lifts her chin as if to provoke me. “You going to fight me, darlin’?”
“No, ma’am.” My smile is saccharine.
One of the men grumbles under his breath, but they all turn back toward the elevators.
The nurse leads me to a little room on the side of the entry that statesIntakeon the sign. “Got a new one! Buzz us in!” she yells to the nurses at their station behind the glass.
We enter a little room. All that’s in it is a medical bed, a trash can, one tall cabinet, and a tablet glued to the wall beneath a plastic protector.
As soon as the door shuts, Quincy grabs me in a tight squeeze. “Oh, darlin’! It’s been too long. How’s your mama? I miss her.” She hurriedly undoes the straps along my back.
