disposition. | jack gilinsky

| Chapter 19 |

Zola has been giving me dirty looks for the past three weeks. I haven't made much progress since coming here. With the exception of Ian being the nicest out of all the nurses, Matt has been my only friend, giving me stolen pudding cups from the employee lounge. We had made it a rule to never again talk about what has been troubling us. We were doing enough of that in group. So we stuck to the happy things and the happy memories. Being that most of my happy memories were with two guys I no longer speak to, I always had to do some digging into my childhood.

During free time, Matt and I were playing chess. That alone, triggered a happy memory for me.

"This reminds me of when I went to Manhattan with my dad," I spoke with a slight grin.

"Tell me," he also grinned, moving one of his pawns forward.

"We went to Washington Square Park and there they have a bunch of tables with old men playing chess and dominos, so on & so forth. He sat down at one of the tables and started playing chess with this old man. I forgot his name but he was from Jamaica and he was the kindest man you could ever meet. Loved his family and always sat at that certain table because he liked meeting new faces. And I just watched them play, I didn't even understand the game. I think I was about 6 or 7."

I closed my eyes to try and visualize. It was a bittersweet feeling. I missed that day and it was long ago but I remembered it so vividly.

"I was wearing a puffy pink coat," I continued. "And my dad had on this fuzzy red scarf that smelled like cigars mixed with cologne. That was a great day."

I felt Matt's hand on mine and I opened my eyes. "Don't ever let go of that memory," he said. "I know you miss it all but you can't ever forget it, okay? Shit like that will always bring you back down to earth when you stray too far."

I smiled and nodded. "Thanks. And..." I moved my Queen. "Checkmate."

His face scrunched up. "Oh come on. Okay, one more game."

"So I can beat you again?" I laughed.

Suddenly, I felt cold liquid pour down my shoulder and I gasped l jumped out of my chair. My arch nemesis, Zola, had purposely poured her cup of water on me and sported a fake shocked face.

"I am so sorry," she said in her English accent.

"Really Zola?" Matt exclaimed. He looked at me and shook his head. He saw the anger building up in my fists.

I pushed her down without even using any words. I knew what was up and she was about to find out what was up as well. She got up and pushed me back. Before I knew it we were rolling on the floor, fighting. Violently pulling each others hair, face-scratching, face-slapping, and the other patients around us were chanting Fight! Fight! Fight!

It was soon broken up by several orderlies plus Ian. We were both fighting to escape the constraints.

"Don't fight them, Imogen!" Matt shouted over the chanting.

But it was too late. I heard Ian say, "Come on, is that necessary?". Then I saw a nurse's leg and everything in my body became super relaxed. She had injected something into my hip at the same time another nurse injected Zola.

I was put into a sort of solitary confinement, only less depressing. But the room was small and all there was, was a window and a twin bed. I was in there until the next morning, periodically having meals and water brought to me.

When they let me out, I just wanted to go to my real bed, the comfortable one. But I was approached by Ian who was looking especially scrumptious today.

"Come with me," he said.

Sir, yes sir. Anything you want.

I cleared my throat. "What's the occasion?"