This was my fail-safe note, just in case I ended up being on the medication for a long period without a chance to skip. A strategy to help me find my way out of the confusion again. It had saved me a few times.
I tucked the paper back under the mattress, hoping that somehow this would be the last time. That I’d never need it again, because I’d figure out how to leave this place, and Vargas would let me and my mother go. With every single day that passed, that dream felt more and more impossible.
I got back into bed. Usually I fell back asleep easily, but tonight I was restless, tossing and turning. I watched the moonlight move across the ceiling for hours.
Mira, I’m sorry. I still haven’t made them pay for what they did. I’m still failing at every turn.
But I’d try again tomorrow.
What else could I do?
“Katarina, time for your physical therapy.”The same nun as yesterday stood beside me.
It was after lunch, and I’d been staring out the window at the fat snowflakes falling for an hour, my mind going over the dream from last night again and again, looking for clues. They made all the patients do physical therapy because they said it helped heal the mind. But everyone knew they did it to feed their own twisted desires.
“Who with?” I asked woodenly.
“Father Pavol.”
I barely turned my head in time before my lunch rushed up my throat.
“What is happening!” the nun exclaimed, jumping back so as not to get splashed. “You dirty girl,” she snapped at me, shouting orders for cleaning supplies over her shoulder.
I heaved and heaved until nothing but bile came up.
The janitor arrived and dropped a bucket with soapy water, a sponge, and a bottle of vinegar beside me.
“Clean this up quickly; you’re keeping Father Pavol waiting. Don’t make him come down here for you.”
I rose, knowing that if Pavol had to come down, it would be much worse.
You know he’s just waiting for an excuse to play his perverted games with you. Stop giving him one,the voice in my head, evidence of my growing insanity, said.
“I know, but I’m not a robot,” I retorted. “I feel things, too, sometimes.”
“What?” the nun demanded.
I just shook my head and continued to clean.
Everything was all neat and tidy far too quickly, and I was being marched toward Pavol’s offices before I knew it. My heartbeat felt irregular. My palms were sweating violently. I couldn’t even really remember my last session with Pavol, so what was with this reaction? But my body remembered even if my mind didn’t.
We arrived at his door. His office was on a lower floor, far away from the residential and rec floors. Underneath Hallow Hall was a network of basement rooms and tunnels. It was creepy down here. The air smelled fetid and old.
The nun knocked on the door and waited until she was bidden to enter before pushing me inside.
“Katarina Dmitrova. I apologize for her lateness; the fool girl was ill.” She grabbed me by the forearm, her nails digging into my skin. “Apologize to the father and his guest.”
His guest?
“I apologize,” I managed. I had to fight the urge to go for her eyes with the way she was bruising my arm. The woman didn’t have an ounce of gentleness in her.
“It’s fine, Sister Vera. She’s here now. Come in, Katarina.”
No. No. No. Don’t go. Don’t leave me alone here.
I watched Sister Vera leave, the door shutting heavily behind her.
“You were ill, Katarina? That’s not like you. You haven’t been skipping your medication, have you?”