Page 6 of Heal Me

LAVINIA

I spend most of the first two days here sleeping. I’m bone-tired, and this place has given me the peace I need to get some rest in my weary bones. Here, there’s no stress of how to afford next week’s rent, my next meal, or how to escape the men lurking in back alleys after a gig. I don’t even have to fear Zoltan here. At least, so I think. Being shut in and isolated also means that everyone else is shut out.

The fact that I’m locked up doesn’t even bother me. Freedom was always overrated. Nothing good ever came of it. Nothing but danger, loss, and uncertainty. The same goes for people. The isolation is blissful. I’ve always enjoyed being alone, and the world and all the people and noise in it have always seemed oppressive.

The first few times someone who’s not Dorin comes in here, I’m on edge and nervous. They’re all men, and none of them seem particularly friendly—which is to put it mildly. But none of them try to touch me or take advantage of my vulnerable state. They don’t even speak to me, so I don’t speak to them.They just bring me food, take me to the bathroom, or to a shower room where they hose me down with tepid water in the evenings.

It’s not particularly comfortable. I’m always shivering after the showers, and the halls are barren, resembling an old dungeon more than a psychiatric facility. Once or twice, Ieven see an orderly drag a girl screaming down the hall. But then again, Romanian mental hospitals never did have a great reputation, and mental illness comes in many degrees and forms. All things considered, I guess this is better than what I could have feared. At least, I’m not in a crowded room with twenty others, the blankets in my cell keep me warm, and I get more food than I ever did beyond these walls.

As the shock and exhaustion wanes a bit on the second day, worry creeps in as I realize being locked up might not keep Zoltan out. He has more than enough money to bribe his way in, and this padded cell might be temporary. Once they deem me non-suicidal, they might move me to one of those crowded halls full of people, where it will be even easier for Zoltan to get to me.

I voice my concerns when Dorin brings me dinner. He’s the only one who talks to me and the only one I feel comfortable talking to.Andthe only one who insists on feeding me. It’s a bit unnerving, but I also feel oddly cared for when he brings the spoon to my mouth, providing me with the nourishment I always struggled to provide for myself.

“Can anyone get in here?” I ask a bit awkwardly halfway through the meal, fumbling with the blankets, unsure how to ask if my ex and stalker who caused all the ugly scars on my body can get to me here.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… can anyone from the outside access me here?”

“No, this place is a fortress,” he says, but I’m not sure he understands.

I usually don’t tell anyone about Zoltan, afraid they’ll want a ransom and take advantage of the situation, but there’s nothing usual about this situation. And I feel a certain level of trust in this man. I’m not sure if it’s a savior complex or if it’s rational, and I’m not sure it matters. It’s not like I have much of a choice,so I say, “Someone very rich is looking for me. I’m afraid he’ll find me. I mean, now that I’m in the system.”

“No one finds you here,” he states, shoving another spoonful of beef stew toward my mouth.

I lean away from the spoon. “You don’t know this man. He’s dangerous. And rich. As in crazy amounts of money. If he bribes someone—”

Grabbing my jaw, he leans in close, watching me with a directness that has my breath stuttering. “No. One. Gets in here. I promise that.”

I stare at him, baffled and unable to find any words. What he’s saying isn’t much of an assurance, but the way he says it…

“Do you understand?” he urges.

I nod in his hand.

“Now eat.” He shoves the spoon back to my lips, forcing me to open promptly to avoid getting sauce down my chin. “You’re too thin.” A furrow forms between his brows as he throws a glance down my body, and I hug the blanket tighter.

“Can I get some clothes?” I ask him, just like I’ve asked several of the other orderlies—or nurses, or whatever they are—without getting an answer.

“No clothes here.”

“Why?”

He glances down my body again. “They get in the way.”

I frown at this and bite my lips together. I don’t like going naked. If all the orderlies had been women, I would’ve been okay, but they’re all men. But then again, no one has tried anything—they barely even look at me—so I decide to let it go and inquire about something else instead.

“Are you gonna throw me into some crowded room once…” I shut my eyes and swallow hard.

“Once what?”

“Once I’m not suicidal anymore.”

He swipes a gentle hand that seems too intimate to be professional over my cheek, and I open my eyes to stare into his deep brown ones as he says, “No. You’ll stay here.”

“Thank you,” I whisper.

His head tilts slightly as if I’ve just said something weird, and he curves his palm around my cheek softly as he holds my gaze. “Tomorrow, you start therapy.”

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