The word evaluation sent flashbacks of Jude telling him what happened during these “evaluations” and his fists clenched as he stepped to the end of the bed, trapping the doctor in the corner. “You touch her and I will kill you.”

The doctor held up his clipboard as if that could save him. With his already beady eyes, he narrowed them even more, and said, “I’ll make sure to take good care of Mrs. Barrett for yo—”

He never saw the punch coming. The doctor’s smug smirk was knocked right off. The blow would cause quick swelling and soon it would be tightly shut.

The orderlies were on him, grabbing each of Taylor’s arms and pulling him backward. Taylor fought the best he could but he knew they were trained for worse. He yelled, “Don’t you dare touch her.”

Antagonizing Taylor, the doctor took one of his fingers and poked Jude’s leg. Taylor went ballistic, freeing himself just to be tackled to the hard linoleum. A two-hundred-fifty-pound man had him pinned as the other put a cable tie around his wrists and pulled hard. Despite Taylor’s best efforts to escape, the tie cut into his skin and he continued swearing as he was dragged to his feet and yanked backward to the door. “Jude? Jude!” he shouted. Just before he was taken around the corner, her eyes opened and connected with his.

She mouthed, “Hazel,” then the door was slammed shut and locked, keeping him out and the doctor in.

“SIGN THIS.” THE doctor stood over Jude with a pen. “Sign this,” he demanded, much more forcefully. He had never spoken to her like that before, but she was groggy and couldn’t land her thoughts on reality.

Striving to focus, the form in front of her was blurring as well as the pen. Her arms felt heavy as they lay at her sides, but she reached for the pen anyway, and missed. Reached again and missed. The doctor took her hand and wrapped her fingers around it, then brought the ink to the document. “What is it?” she asked, too tired and closed her eyes.

“Just sign it!”

His angry words penetrated her foggy brain and she opened her eyes again, this time in fear. The doctor stood over her, the green of his irises intimidating. Her gaze went from the doctor to the pen, and back to the doctor again, noticing his swollen face. He held an icepack to his upper cheek with one hand and with the other he pushed the pen on her again. “Sign. I have rounds to make.”

She took the pen in hand this time and tried to work out the words that jumbled through her blurry vision.

“You got married, Judith. That has caused a lot of problems for us.”

Married. She moved her thumb to touch the underside of her rings. When she didn’t feel them, panic rose, and she held her hand above her to visually verify. “Where are my rings?”

“You know hospital policy. No jewelry. Nothing of any kind can be brought in.”

“Give them back,” she said, attempting and failing to sit up.

“You might get them back if you’re a good girl over the coming month.”

She stilled. Her vision may not be focused, but her mind understood the ramifications of his words perfectly clear. “Month? What are you talking about?”

“Yes,” he said, smiling while flipping through her chart. “You’ll be spending the next month with us. Isn’t that good news?” His dark gaze hit her, penetrating her heart. “Even better news. That means we’ll get to spend lots of time together.”

Everything was clear now, including her vision. “I want to see my husband.”

“I’ve added that you’ll not be allowed any visitors during this time of recovery. But you’ll be able to see him once you’re returned to the care and custody of your parents. Now sign this and let’s start our month off right.”

She flailed up, but was easily pushed back down, her body weak compared to his. “You’ll pay for that!”

“Actually,” he said, “you’ll be paying that.”

Her body shuddered under the fear. “I won’t sign until I see him. What is this anyway? And how does my marriage affect you?”

“Do you really think we’re going to share this with your new husband? After all the planning we’ve done?” The clipboard was taken from her and slammed down on the bed. Through a clenching jaw, he gritted out, “Are you going to sign?”

Her heart began thumping in her chest, her fear echoed with each dense beat. There was no out. He wasn’t leaving until she signed, so when he shoved the pen back into her hand and placed it on the clipboard, she scribbled her name across the wiggling line.

Dr. Conroy ripped the pen from her hand and then the papers, leaving a deep cut in her finger. He had her wrists secured in the straps before she could think to struggle.

“He’ll come for me.” She looked at him, really looked at him, eyeing the bruising, and whispered, “Or has he already been here?”

“I can see we have a lot of work ahead of us. Your delusions have gotten worse.” He laughed without humor. “I’ll note your worsening condition in the chart for the guardianship review coming up.”

Jude had rarely cursed, but it flew out in anger and frustration. “You can go fuck yourself!”

“Marriage has made you bold when you should be scared, little girl.”

Her body went limp from the threat and tears filled her eyes. With all of her strength, she willed them back in, and grinded her teeth. “I hate you.”

“That makes two of us because I hate myself too, but it changes nothing. We’re still stuck in this shitty world trying to improve our remaining days.”

Jude turned away from him. The doctor left her strapped to the bed and shut the door. She heard the bolt and she was stuck in this holding cell, locked away from the world once again.

Yanking a few times, she knew it was pointless. She would be here as long as they wanted her to be here, or until she was released, whichever came first and right then, she had no idea when that would be.

She despised every aspect of this place, all the different stages they dragged each patient through, but lying in this room “waiting” to be moved to her usual room had to be the worst. Her arms hurt from being stretched out and she wanted her legs together. “They” liked how vulnerable patients were in this position, and took advantage of the hospital gown barely covering her.

Focusing on the box breathing technique she learned after her first suicide attempt, she tried to settle the outrage that pinpricked every awakened nerve.

Inhale. One. Two. Three. Four.

Hold. One Two. Three. Four.

Exhale. One. Two. Three. Four.

Hold. One. Two. Three. Four.

It didn’t work. She was in full-blown fight mode, and knew they wouldn’t put her in another room until she was subdued. The problem with subdued meant that she was giving in and she had no intention of giving in. She never did. She just eventually got moved.

In Bleekman’s, time was irrelevant. It moved over the hours like a snail, every minute escalated to more importance than it should be given, the day disappearing beneath her. There was no beginning or end. Just the sun rising, the daylight, the sun setting, and the nighttime. Four distinct times.

Hold. One. Two. Three. Four.

She watched the sun steal the day as it crossed the room in light and shadows. Maybe the last four months of her life were all in her head. Maybe she had been here the whole time.

No breakfast.

No lunch.

Exhale. One. Two. Three. Four.

When a nurse arrived with dinner, she set the tray down on a table in the far corner. One Jude couldn’t reach and the nurse walked closer. “Why do you fight this so much? You know how this goes, Judith.”

Jude rolled her eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I’m not crazy.”

“I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Nurse Lacy. I’ve been your nurse once before,” she said quietly, looking over her shoulder to make sure no one else was listening. She moved the strap higher on Jude’s arm and then pulled some lotion from her pocket. Dabbing a little on Jude’s wrist, she smiled. “They say you’re married.”