Body of Stars Laura Walter (chrome ebook reader .txt) 📖

“Good thing I was the one to see you.” She paused and gulped for breath. “If security had been watching the cameras like they’re supposed to, you wouldn’t be talking to me right now. You’d get the police instead.”

I had forgotten about the video surveillance. How foolish I must have looked on camera, lurking behind the nurses’ station in my pajamas.

The nurse held out her hand. “Come,” she said. “Give it to me.”

It was over, and yet I couldn’t make myself hand her the file.

“Maybe you can pretend you didn’t see me,” I said. The nurse’s expression—sympathy, anguish—made me push on. “If you helped me, you could change my entire life.”

The nurse let out a breath. She came over to the bed and sat with me. I didn’t flinch. I didn’t move the file out of her reach. I thought she might offer to help.

“You know that’s not the only copy, right?” she said. “Even if I wanted to change it, or throw it away, it wouldn’t do any good. What’s marked down is forever. I’m sorry.”

I knew she was right, but I still wouldn’t let go of the file. I clutched it desperately, molding the manila folder into a new shape.

The nurse put a hand on my arm. “You’ll be all right,” she said. “Really. I see a lot of girls come through here, and it’s always bad at first. But then they grow up. They get married and even get jobs, sometimes. Not the best jobs, but jobs. They live their lives. They have babies. They find a way to be happy.”

As she spoke, I loosened my grip on the folder. When the nurse finally reached for it, I gave it to her without argument. Afterward she stroked my hair, helped me into bed, and promised she wouldn’t tell anyone what I’d done.

I curled into the fetal position. The mattress was so uncomfortable; the hospital saved the real bedding for the other wings, for the patients who were actually ill. I believed, then, in that line of thinking. That I wasn’t sick. That once my bruises healed, I’d be fine, more or less.

That once my mandated days in the hospital came to an end, I could go home as though nothing had changed. Not even myself.

Strategies for Reintegration: A 7-Stage Guide for Recovery and Rehabilitation

Stage 3: Confronting Family. Prior to leaving the Reintegration Wing, you will have the opportunity to meet privately with your family. Expect this meeting to be tense, perhaps even unpleasant, as your family members struggle with the new reality thrust upon them. Be patient and deferential during this meeting. You are the victim and catalyst alike of this new dynamic, and as such, you owe it to your family to confront their grievances.

16

By my final morning in the hospital, the last of my bruises had paled to a sickly yellow. They faded from the inside out, leaving dark rings that made me feel dirty, like my skin was covered in stains I couldn’t erase. Each bruise still ached if I pressed it hard enough, which I did, several times, during the special last-day breakfast I shared with the other girls. We sat in the programming room and watched without joy as an orderly served us waffles on paper plates. The waffles were lukewarm and rubbery, but there was coffee, plus a plate of succulent red grapes. I popped a few grapes into my mouth, only to discover too late that they were full of seeds, a swarm of daggers piercing my cheeks.

After breakfast drew to a merciful conclusion, we headed back to our rooms. A new girl arrived just then, so we paused in the hallway to watch her roll past. She was strapped on her back on a gurney, and although her eyes were open, I got the sense that she was not awake. Her parents trailed behind stiffly.

Next to me, Glory watched this scene with intensity.

“Are you all right?” I asked her.

She kept her eyes fixed on the gurney, which the staff was maneuvering into an empty room.

“Something is wrong with that girl,” she said.

“Of course something’s wrong. She was abducted.”

Glory shook her head. “I think maybe she tried to hurt herself.”

I took a step back, like what that girl had was catching.

“When I was a kid, I knew a girl who tried to end it after she was returned,” Glory said. “She managed to get her hands on a bottle of pills while she was still in the hospital. The staff must have been so lazy to let that happen. It’s not a surprise, though, is it. That they don’t care.”

Her eyes had a shine to them, a greedy look, like she delighted in the possibilities of destruction. I knew nothing about her—not what kind of life she had before she was taken, or what she had to return to. I didn’t even know her real name.

“That girl’s the lucky one, if you ask me,” she added, nodding to the end of the hallway, where the new girl had disappeared from sight. “She’s not awake to face all this.”

Without waiting for my reply, Glory offered a vicious half smile and retreated to her room. For a few moments I stood there, stunned, until my shock solidified into a desire for control—for the power to stop at least one of the disasters careening toward me.

I went to the nurses’ station. My legs were shaking, and I had to steady myself by leaning on the counter. I explained to the nurse that I was worried Glory was thinking of harming herself. The nurse narrowed her eyes as I spoke, then called two more nurses to the station. They huddled together, whispering. I would learn later they were making plans to ensure Glory wouldn’t be left alone for the rest of her stay in the hospital. But I didn’t need to know the details—it was clear that they intended to protect her, and that was all that