Four pills line the bottom: my recent dose, plus my blue pill. I send a silent thank you to Dr. Gillespie as I toss the pills back. The water helps them go down easy.
Like Nurse Stanley, Nurse Pritchard expects me to open my mouth and show her that it’s empty inside. Unlike Nurse Stanley, Nurse Pritchard seems satisfied that my pills are gone.
She should. Considering what happened last night, no way I’m missing this dose.
Frankie is built like Duncan, big and bulky, but that’s the only similarity I can see. For one thing, Frankie is olive-toned, straight Italian, and Duncan is black. Duncan’s bald head gleams like an eight-ball while Frankie has this thick, greasy black hair that he wears slicked back. Duncan always glowers. Frankie is a chatterbox. Now that I’m acting like a model patient, he chitchats while Nurse Pritchard takes my vitals and administers my medication.
I’m half listening to him. I give one-word answers when he pauses to take a breath. I guess it’s enough. It’s not like the techs expect that much from me anyway.
When they’re done, Frankie helps Nurse Pritchard leave my room. He closes the door behind them, but it’s not locked. Not yet. I can go track down Carolina as soon as I’m ready to.
Even though I’m anxious to see her, to find out what her cryptic note means, I’m not in a rush to leave. I decide to stick it out in my room for a few minutes, give Frankie and Nurse Pritchard some time to move on to the next patient. I know Emma next door gets her meds brought to her room, too, as well as Tai in the guys’ section of our floor.
The last thing I need is to draw attention from the facility staff because I’m acting out of the ordinary. I haven’t spent the evenings outside of my bedroom since my first year inside of Black Pine and Dr. McNeil discovered I was talking to the shadows in the common room. As soon as I think it’s emptied out a bit, I’ll go see Carolina.
It’s probably not the best idea, but I go and lay down on my bed. I’m not ready to go to sleep yet. I’m still wearing my hoodie—I’ll take that off after I get back—and I traded my sneakers for my slippers; since I’ve given up on hiding my pills, I’m back to wearing my slippers before I go to bed. If anyone asks what I’m doing out of my room, I’m sure I can come up with something later.
I’m exhausted, though. Thanks to last night’s hallucination, I haven’t slept in more than twenty-four hours. My body is rundown. I feel achy and drained. Add that to my heavy dinner, and it’s already a struggle for me to keep my eyes open. My mouth stretches wide as I try to fight a yawn.
I really want to see what’s going on with Carolina. I do. But maybe I’ll be able to make more sense out of this strange situation if I just rest my eyes for a couple of seconds.
I fall asleep because of course I do.
I’m only human.
It’s not for long, though. An hour? If that. It’s barely a refresher and, honestly, I feel worse for my short catnap. I’ve got this terrible taste in my mouth and I wish I’d left some of my water from my dixie cup to rinse it out. Ugh.
Something woke me up. I didn’t mean to fall asleep in the first place, but as soon as I resurface, I realize exactly what cut into my rest.
The hum starts out low before it turns into an insistent buzz. I crack my eyes open in time for me to notice that one of the fluorescent light bulbs over my bed is starting to go bad. It flickers on and off, the hum growing even louder whenever it turns dark. Since it’s still on, I know it’s not past lights out time yet, and I’m wondering if I should go see if I can find Carolina now.
And that’s when I hear his voice.
“Riley.”
Oh, come on. I took my blue pill. It’s why I went to see Dr. Gillespie this morning and begged for a med check. My pride was worth it. I didn’t want to have to deal with Nine coming to see me again. I would’ve done anything to make it all go away.
Obviously, Nine didn’t get the memo.
It’s weird. I’m not used to seeing him unless it’s super late and super dark. The flickering light doesn’t do much to hide how hot he is.
Damn it. You’d think I would’ve toned down his ridiculous good looks the next time I conjured him since I’m so desperate to get rid of him. Seriously? Why does he have to be so gorgeous?
Though, as I get a better look at him in the dying light, I notice that he’s a little bit different after all. I didn’t think it was possible, but his skin has gotten even paler. His silver eyes seem duller than they did, the dark circles underneath a blemish on his otherwise perfect face. He’s still wearing the same, strange, coat—it’s like a leather duster but… but not—and it’s not sitting right. It’s kinda askew, one shoulder dipped lower than the other, his wavy hair trapped beneath it as if he threw it on in a hurry.
Still, no denying he’s Nine. And he’s in my room.
Again.
I sigh. Really? It’s the only thing I can do right now. Anger and denial didn’t do shit last night. I guess I’m up to barely masked frustration. “You’ve got to be kidding me. What part of you’re not real, leave me alone didn’t you get?”
The Nine I knew from my childhood would’ve threatened to leave if I was so disrespectful. Not this Nine. Not the new, updated version of the Shadow Man.
This one just lets out a soft exhale. “You’re still here.”
Why does he sound so relieved? Where does he think I could’ve gone? “Well, yeah. But I’m supposed to be here.” Then, in case he’s forgotten, I add, “You’re not. Why did you come back?”
“I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to make it in time. I had to wait for the shadows to return to get to you and I thought, by then, I would’ve just missed you.”