Waking up with anxiety has got to be one of my least favorite feelings. I'd almost rather have the numbness of waking and feeling empty. The racing of your heart and mind is disorienting, and while you're tired it's nearly impossible to ground yourself. I find the shark toy first, and that doesn't help at all. I'm wearing the hoodie. I have to search my memory to figure out when I even put it on.
My eyes are shut tight when they bring me food, and although my appetite couldn't be worse, I eat it anyway. It helps with my dizziness, but I have to pace myself to get it down. Being in here is partially nice because every second alone is a second not spent talking to anyone about what happened.
But it's also time to be alone with my mind. It's like setting someone's house on fire and then locking them in a house across the street. You know there are bad things happening, but you can't see it or do anything about it. It's not a comforting thing to be trapped with the knowledge that my family is falling apart and my friends are in danger and I'm helpless.
At ten, someone comes to my door and tells me that it's medication time. Apparently I'm allowed out of the room to take it today. They wait as I get into my chair, and my movements are sluggish. I've only left the room once today to go to the bathroom, so I haven't physically done much and I want to keep it that way.
I'm snapping my fingers when the nurse starts to wheel me out of the room, and I borderline feel like I'm about to implode. I close my eyes again on the way up to the line for the medication window, and I wish I'd just fall asleep again.
I can't remember the last time I woke up to a normal day. It would had to have been the day I fell in school—the day that got me sent here—but what was the last truly normal day? When I woke up, got out of bed without counting my steps, and went on about my regular life with my regular parents and regular friends?
"Newt!" I open my eyes to see who's calling my name, and I find Minho and Jeff running towards me. They're yelled at by a nurse, and Minho huffs but apologizes before they continue walking forward.
They get to my side and before any of us can get a word out, my nurse jumps in. "Get in line," he says.
"We're about to. Newt, we heard you were back, what happened? Where's Thomas? Where were you guys?" Minho bombards me with questions that would be ridiculous to answer right now.
"Back of the line," my nurse says. I'm almost grateful, because as much as I like Minho and Jeff, I don't feel like answering any questions.
"Fine. Talk later, Newt," Minho says before stalking off with Jeff at his heels. I'm not sure if "later" will ever come.
For now, I brainstorm ways to hide the pill I can't take.
I hide it in my gums, and it works. I'm sweating profusely the whole time I'm up there and my hands shake, but I manage to do it. I sneak the pill into my pocket and successfully disguise it as a cough as I'm rolled away, making a mental note to flush it later. Unfortunately, in typical fashion, my luck is extremely short lived.
Dr. Ava Paige is walking right up to my chair, effectively blocking us from moving down the hallway. I guess it's too late to pretend I haven't seen her, since my eyes meet hers as my heart somehow sinks even lower.
"Newton, I'd like to see you again in my office to talk some more," she says. I take a sharp breath, and my head feels like it's been filled with thick liquid.
Nothing more is said to me. I'm handed off like a baby to Ava Paige and we head right to her office. I've got a stomach ache, and I'm only realizing it now. What's my mom doing at this moment? Looking into ways to get me out of here? Is she with my dad? Are they fighting?
As I'm wheeled in front of Dr. Paige's desk, my mind is anywhere but here. I want to get better. I'd rather have ten straight hours of therapy than this. I'm tapping my foot and counting my breaths, because what else can I do?
She sits behind her desk and I glare at her. What else does she want to say to me? I want to ask to call my mom, but the thought of home makes me feel sick. Then again, everything makes me feel sick nowadays.
"Let's start with the night you left," she says. "Why did you feel that there was no other way to leave than escaping?"
"Why? I'm a prisoner, that's why," I snap, finding my voice.
"You're not a prisoner here, Newton," she says.
"Then why did you tell my mom that I can't leave?" I ask. It certainly doesn't seem like I can go whenever I want, so what else can you call it?
"If you committed a crime, you'll be considered an involuntary patient, and since you're still on watch from your accident, it's best for your own safety that you continue treatment with us," Dr. Paige says. If I didn't have to do it ten times, I'd roll my eyes.
"What crime did I commit?" How is she so sure I committed a crime? Unless leaving was a crime, what is she accusing me of? If anything, she's the one in trouble with the law.
"For starters, what was your mode of transportation?"
"We didn't steal a car, if that's what you're asking," I say. I can't tell her about Vince's car, that's for sure. It hits me that Thomas drove without a license. Could I get in trouble for that?
"And the hotel?"
My face pales. "That was Thomas' money."
"Where did he get that much money?" she asks. I feel like the room is spinning.
"He told me it was his child support money," I say, fighting to keep my voice steady.
"Don't be so sure about that. Thomas is not a mentally stable person. That's the reason he's here. He needs to be," she says. I don't want to respond. "You're here to get better, and our job is to keep you safe and help you do that. Nothing more, nothing less."
"Yeah? Is that what you did for Winston then?" I ask. Her face doesn't budge—it never does—but she hesitates.
"Winston was a horrible tragedy, but unfortunately that does happen every once in a while," Dr. Paige says.
I let out a humorless laugh, because how else can I respond to that? "Thomas saw your letters from WCKD pharmaceuticals."
"Thomas doesn't know what he saw. He may have seen letters from them, but he wouldn't understand what they meant. I think what really happened is that Thomas feels guilty for Winston's death and is looking for something else to blame it on," she says.
I'm silent for a minute. I don't want her to be right, and I don't trust her. If putting my faith in Thomas was a mistake, could I even take that? He's all I have right now; the only thing that makes sense. That can't be taken from me too.
"He's not crazy," I say quietly, not sure if I'm trying to convince her or myself.
"Do you know how he got here?" This is the second time she's offering me the information. The question I've been asking myself since I met him. How horrible would it be of me to find out behind his back? I'm not sure he'd ever tell me on his own.
I'm shaking my leg furiously now, and my brain is counting so rapidly that it's hard to concentrate. I used to think Thomas was a mystery, and the other night after he told me all those things about himself I thought maybe he wasn't such a mystery after all. Sure, I know his favorite foods, but things like how he got to TIMI are still completely unknown to me.
I tell the truth. "No, I don't."
"It was a long time ago. Over two years, I believe. He was living with his mother and his little sister. He'd been experiencing mood swings and hallucinations for a while, along with a few other symptoms. His mother tried the best she could to get him care, but she was limited due to her income. He started getting worse at fourteen and he'd go through episodes, but nobody was ever endangered. Not until one particular night," Ava Paige starts. I'm already regretting this. I shouldn't be listening to her. I shouldn't let her continue.
But I do. "We're still unable to get a clear version of the story from him, but his younger sister was able to tell us everything she knows. It was night, and she heard Thomas screaming in his room. She went to check on him, and he was crying. When he looked up to her, she said it looked like he didn't recognize her, and he was speaking incoherently," Dr. Paige says.
I avert my gaze. The next part of this story will be anything but good, and the fact that it's her telling it only makes it worse. I can see the look on his face from yesterday—was it really only yesterday?—so clearly in my mind. The expression that tells you immediately that something is wrong.
"She reached out to him, and he lashed out at her. His mother was luckily right down the hall and got Brenda—his sister—away from him before he could do real physical damage, but he'd gotten so close to it that she had him put here. Who knows what would have happened if his mother wasn't there?" I'm hearing a ringing in my ears, and I stare blankly at the wall behind Dr. Paige. There's this one chip on the paint right next to one of her filing cabinets. "He could have seriously injured his own sister. He could have done the same to you—maybe even worse."
I want to tell her about the blemish on her wall, and ask if there's a way to fix it. It's so obvious, how didn't I notice it there yesterday? She seems like the type to want things pristine, why hasn't she seen this and done something about it?
"Newton, are you listening to me?" Dr. Paige asks.
My face is burning so hot that it makes my eyes tear up, and I have to blink a few times—four, then ten—to stop it. I shift uncomfortably in my seat, not taking my eyes off of the wall.
If I look at her, I'll think. I'll think about Thomas nearly killing us on the road. I'll think about Thomas freaking out on his sister. I'll think about the fact that I never saw any proof of the WCKD letters. I'll think about Thomas being one of the only people I thought I could trust. I'll think about the fact that he knows more about me than anyone, and I can truly be myself with him. I'll think about how—
I cut my mind off from the next thought that was going to spill into my head. How could this all be my Thomas? How could I trust him so much that I'd let him drive me? I knew he had hallucinations, how could I be so stupid?
"I'm listening," I say angrily. I'm not sure if the anger is directed at her, Thomas, or myself. Maybe all of the above.
"Thomas is a wild card. He's tame enough to be with everyone else for most of the time, but if he's set off, it's not good. He's smart, and he's more than capable of manipulating people. We've been searching for a proper diagnosis for him for years, but we haven't found a good match, especially being as young as he is," Dr. Paige says. My head hurts, and I focus on the pain to drown out her voice.
"So you're trying to tell me that everything Thomas said he saw was a lie?" I ask, pinching the bridge of my nose.
"A paranoia and guilt based delusion," she corrects me. "One that he sadly wasted Mrs. Flores' time on, I'm afraid."
"Then what happened to Winston? And why was I put on medication from WCKD pharmaceuticals?" I ask, finally looking up.
Dr. Paige does a small head nod. "Winston's death had nothing to do with me or WCKD pharmaceuticals, and if you've got a question or concern about your medication, we'll work with you."
"Okay, then I want to be off of that pill," I say, grabbing the opportunity while I have it. Would she really just take me off of it?
She tilts her head, looking at me. "How have you been feeling on it?"
I go to tell her that I'm fine as an automatic response, but I stop myself. This could be my out. "Bad. Shaky," I settle on.
"I'll discuss with Dr. Janson, then," she says, after a prolonged moment. I would thank her, but I don't really have much to be grateful to her for. Silence fills the room for a minute, but my head is anything but quiet. "Newton, we're not evil. I know you've formed a bond with Thomas, but don't let him get in the way of your recovery."
She has no idea.
I'm wheeled into the bathroom by another nurse after my encounter with Ava Paige. I need to get rid of the WCKD pill before someone finds it on me. That's about the last thing I need at the moment. I already have enough going on, and so much on my mind that I can only think of one task at a time or I'll lose it.
My hands. That's what I'm distracting myself with, and they're the reason I don't look up right away. I'm just counting my fingers, thanking the universe for giving humans ten digits. It's perfect, and it's enough to keep me focused on anything but the other people in the room.
It's enough until, out of the corner of my eye, I see something that I can't ignore. Against my better judgement, my eyes move before my brain can stop them. Then, I'm not entirely sure if I would have been better off keeping my head down.
Thomas is looking right at me, only a foot or two away. It appears that he was about to leave, but is now stopped in his tracks. Two nurses stand at his side, and now the wall of people is blocking us from continuing on.
When my nurse tries to keep my chair moving, I put my good foot on the ground, stopping it. I count the one loudly in my head, then stand, making it two.
"I can walk from here," I say, my voice finally coming out a few seconds after I wanted it to.
I'm in front of him, and his nurses are telling him something but I don't pay attention. Right now, I have tunnel vision, and Thomas is all I see.
He looks unkempt and tired, with dark eyes and hair matted to his forehead. It's hard to believe that it's the same boy from the amusement park when he looks like this. It's hard to believe that boy even existed at some point. When I try to find him in my memory, I see Thomas lashing out. I see him blank and emotionless.
Thomas smiles. Impossibly, he smiles. It doesn't reach his eyes, but he does it nonetheless. It's a ghost of an emotion. Maybe two days ago it would have made me feel like everything was going to be okay.
"I'm glad you like the hoodie," Thomas says, his eyes flicking down to it. I almost forgot I had it on. "It looks nice on you."
I open my mouth, but it stays like that because I'm baffled. I've always had a problem with being paralyzed when shocked, and this is one of those times. I'm entirely unsure of how I feel, and I don't want to feel anything.
I want all of my feelings to go away. The hurt, the confusion, and the feelings that are so far from anger that they scare me. What am I supposed to feel? One thought seems to be reigning over them all. I trusted him, and he let me down.
He goes as quickly as he appeared, and without another word. I look after him, and he turns back to see me with the haunting smile still painted on his lips before he's out of sight.
Two. I was on two.
It's the middle of the night when I feel the light tapping on my shoulder. I only just got to sleep too, I'd spent hours lying there mulling over all of my recent choices. It wasn't a picnic, because I kept coming back to one thing in particular. Now that thing is sitting on my bed next to me.
"What're you doing in here? How are you in here?" I ask in a loud whisper, rubbing my eyes and attempting to sit up.
"How do you think?" Thomas asks, nodding towards the door. I look, and sure enough, I can see the back of a head of hair that looks an awful lot like Vince's.
"Thomas, just—you shouldn't be in here. You'll get us in more trouble than we're already in," I say.
Thomas frowns. "It'll be fine," he says.
"I'm glad you think so," I say, bitterness bleeding through my tone.
"I had to see you, Newt," Thomas says, ignoring my comment. Now that I'm more awake, I notice that his speech is slurred.
"Are you alright? Did they do something to you?" I ask. We're sitting so close that I feel Thomas' hip up against my knee, and it reminds me of our closeness just the other day. I push the thought away.
"They—um—they started giving me a higher dose of antipsychotics. I hate it, it makes my head feel heavy," he says.
"Why didn't you just not take it then? Isn't that what you always do?" I ask.
"Yeah, but this time they injected me with it," Thomas says, looking away from me. I want to be angry at TIMI for giving him medication he didn't want, but what if it was necessary? What if he needed that dosage all along? "I called Mrs. Flores."
"What? Why?" I ask.
"She told me that she showed the lawyers everything we said, but the process of doing something about it will take time. If they even listen to us, that is," Thomas says. "We won't let them get away with this. Whatever we need to do, we'll get Ava Paige locked away."
My conversation with Dr. Paige repeats like a song in my head. A paranoia and guilt based delusion. If she's right, it's a delusion that could have gotten me killed. Who knows what else damage it can cause? If he's wrong, Mrs. Flores will have been put through all of this for nothing.
"Thomas, are you sure you know what you saw?" I ask.
"What do you mean?" Thomas asks.
"With Dr. Paige's letters, do you know what you saw?"
Thomas shakes his head, his breathing becoming heavier. "What did she tell you? What did they make you believe?" he asks desperately. "I thought you trusted me."
I thought I did, too. "I just think that maybe—"
"Maybe I'm crazy? That I didn't see everything Ava Paige was doing? You saw the pill they gave you, Newt. You saw it," Thomas says. His words are still somewhat delayed, and the franticness of it makes it all makes it sound like he's drunk.
"I know I saw it, but Dr. Paige is taking me off of it. How can that be bad?" I ask. In the moonlight, I can see Thomas' eyes glisten.
"So you trust her now?" Thomas says a lot louder than he should.
"Lower your voice," I whisper.
"Do you?" he asks again, not doing what I asked.
I look at the door, then back to Thomas. My heart is beating fast, and my stomach is in knots. The one person I had left that made me feel less alone. The one person that made me feel like I could get better. Now he's gone too.
"Blindly trusting you almost got me killed, Thomas," I say softly. No part of me wants to say it, and no part of me wants it to be the truth. But it is.
Thomas stares off into the corner of the room, a tear slipping down his face. The irrational part of me wants to hug him; apologize and tell him I still trust him. But when the past few days come back in flashes, I just want to be alone.
I get my wish when Thomas stands up and walks out of the room, not once looking back.