This is for all my fabulous reviewers thus far. I love you guys so much!
Standard disclaimers apply. It's not mine (but I am going to see it on tour in a of couple months! :)
She isn't even sure how everything came out — she'd been doing so well. She hadn't expected today to be any different. But then they'd started threatening that poor little mute girl, and she lost her head completely. How dare they go after someone who can't defend herself? How dare they talk down to a person they know can't respond and push her around and punish her even though she didn't do anything wrong?
The worst part was her expression. She understood every word they were saying, Katherine is sure of it. The silent tears streaming down her cheeks as she turned away were a testament of that.
They give her one final chance to redeem herself after her outburst. But she will never take it, not in a million years, because who else does that girl have? And if this is a lie, then so is everything else, and she won't stand for that. She can't.
"Why would you say you're Joseph Pulitzer's daughter? You do know that's not true, don't you Kitty? That's why you're here – you have no family that cares about you. We're all you have left."
The doctor says it gently, no sarcastic tone like the nasty nurses might. But for some reason, that hurts even more. It rings truer that way, not something said in a wave of bitterness but a genuine evaluation. She squirms in the chair, blinking back tears.
Her father is coming, she knows this. He'll come soon. Jack would come too, only he doesn't know where she is. He's probably worried, though. It's been so long.
She's lost track of the days.
"I'm not crazy," she whispers. No one was meant to overhear her, but the doctor does. He shakes his head sadly.
"I guess it's time," he murmurs softly to the nurse looming behind her. She leads Katherine away.
She doesn't like needles. She doesn't like needles at all.
She started to panic when the nurse pulled out the straps to bind her to the chair, but the silvery thorns glistening threateningly in the dim light are the final straw. Her muscles are tense as she tugs at her bindings. There's no way she'll get them loose in time.
"Please," she whispers, but there's no point. A part of her is convinced there's a sinister smile splitting across the nurse's face, that she's enjoying this. But then, if the pleas of the insane bothered her, this wouldn't exactly be an ideal place for employment. Of course she's immune to the panic, the suffering. It would almost be easier to enjoy it, to revel in the suffering.
Katherine certainly isn't going to enjoy it.
This is only worth it if she can remember her findings, if she can use her experiences to reveal the conditions of the asylum to New York. To the world. If she's pumped so full of drugs that her mind can't focus, that she's left in the same fog with the same dull eyes and slack expressions she's seen among the other girls, then what was the point? Everything she's done will have been for nothing.
But then, maybe this could add more to her story. If she can get proof of the drugs they're using, the untested, inhumane ways they're experimenting on the patients, then her article might cause even more of a stir. If it's going to happen anyway, she may as well let it happen in the name of science. In the name of justice.
She still squirms away as the nurse approaches her, and gets slapped across the face for her troubles. It sends pain throbbing through the already-bruised skin.
She feels the needle slide in, just below her elbow. It may be just her imagination, but she thinks she can feel the liquid running through her veins as well, fanning out with every beat of her heart until it's reached the furthest corners of her body.
And then nothing. Only numbness of body and mind.
She is calmer than she has been throughout this entire ordeal. The nurse's face is spinning, but it's easier to deal with this way – she can't focus on the expression, can't feel the way the judgmental glare works its way into her confidence and leaves her timid and afraid. The bindings aren't cutting into her wrists anymore, or maybe it's just that she's not fighting against them, but either way it's far less painful.
She doesn't remember how she gets back to her cell, but she's pretty sure she doesn't walk. Her legs don't support her on her way to the bed. She makes it halfway before collapsing to the floor, and it seems comfortable there, so she makes the executive decision to stay. The blackness drizzles in, and she lets it. She tries to categorize the feeling for later, but it slips away with what's left of her awareness.
If only she had a pencil.
It takes her a long time to realize there's a man in her cell, and even longer to recognize that it's Jack. He's standing just inside the door, staring at her, holding himself with a stillness that shows his shock and horror. She is glad to see him. She wants him to hold her.
Only, she doesn't want him to be here. She can remember that now. But why? She knows it has something to do with her assignment. She has to stay so she can save people.
But also because he shouldn't see her like this. He shouldn't be here.
She wonders if he can smell the crazy in the air. The silence and heaviness and death that presses down on you until it's hard to remain upright. She can't feel it anymore, but she remembers feeling something when she first came to the island. It must be hard for Jack. It must remind him of the Refuge.
She doesn't want Jack to feel the craziness tiptoeing along his skin.
A new figure stoops down beside her, but the white hair and beard are equally familiar, if not more so. "Father," she whispers. He nods, taking her by her arm and pulling her upright.
"Thank you, nurse," he says to the woman guarding the doorway. He leads Katherine past her, and she looks down to avoid eye contact. "I daresay you'll be hearing from me soon."
"I'm still not sure this is advisable," the woman says, following them down a dark hallway and up a flight of stairs. "We're at a critical stage. I'm not sure it's wise to remove Miss Parker from the hospital; in fact, the doctors may not permit it."
"That's unfortunate," he responds conversationally, pushing the door open with a bang and motioning for Jack to lead the way outside. Katherine squints, the bright sunlight stinging her eyes and the wind quickly robbing her of what little warmth she had left.
"Hold on," she murmurs, not ready to leave without some parting advice. Pulitzer raises an eyebrow, but pauses so she can turn back to the nurses gathered in the entrance hall.
"Something we can help you with, Kitty?" one calls sarcastically. She can tell how much they'd love to drag her back. This is a game for them, and they are losing. They don't even know how badly they are about to lose, but they must be able to feel it's coming.
"Yes," she says, her voice steely. "You can remember my actual name: Katherine Pulitzer. You might see it in a paper in a few weeks." With that she whirls away, leaving the nurses looking between her and her father with understanding – and horror – dawning on their expressions.
Tugging away from her father's grip, she walks through the door on her own. She makes it several feet down the path before her knees give out and she starts to collapse again. But Jack is there – of course he is – and he scoops her into his arms. Like a hero.
He carries her back to the carriage, where she falls asleep in his arms.
Reviews are confidence boosters. If you see any mistakes let me know, because I am dead tired and only reread it twice . . . :)
Much love,
KnightNight