“How long what?”
“How long have you not been taking your meds?”
She shrugs still focused on the paper. “A few months, maybe. You should try it sometime. I feel like a new person now that I'm not on them.”
A loud commotion in the corner of the room interrupts our conversation and our heads snap in the right direction at the same time, Suzette slaps a cup of her meds out of an orderlies' hand. “No!” she screams. Then she pulls her knees to her chest and starts bouncing on the sofa. Her voice drops down a level and she chants, “I don't want them from you. I don't want them from you. I don't want them from you.”
Aurora is up from her seat before I can stop her and she's already making her way over to Suzette. I jump up too. “Aurora, don't!” I call after her. When a patient loses their last marble it makes me nervous. I’ve seen some of the other patients get hurt during one of these fits. The last thing I want to see Aurora hurt.
Her head snaps back to me and she shakes her head. “Don't worry about me. I know what I'm doing.” This is a quality that I love most about Aurora. I've spent the last few weeks studying her and I've come to the conclusion that her snappy, yet at times hard demeanor is just a front. It's a front to hide the fact that she's vulnerable. Also caring. To me vulnerability is beautiful. It is beautiful because it means you're human. You have feelings.
Aurora doesn't make it to Suzette in time.
She's only a few steps away when the orderly puts his hand on Suzette's shoulder.
After that everything falls apart and chaos ensues.
Aurora mutters, “Shit.”
Suzette lets out the loudest, piercing scream I've ever heard, followed by, “Don't touch me! Don't touch me!” Then she bites down on the orderlies' arm before scampering to the opposite side of the room. She huddles in the corner, trembling in fear.
The orderly clutches his arm, grits his teeth, and forces out, “Fuck.” Then he dashes from the room.
Aurora is at Suzette's side, whispering comforting words into her ear, sweeping her up into her arms. All of the patients in the rooms eyes are focused on Suzette, mine included.
This is the first time I've ever seen her have an outburst like that. I'm not sure what triggered it, but I am sure that Aurora knows because of the way she's cradling, Suzette in her lap, smoothing back her hair, and trying to comfort her the way a mother would comfort a child. Seeing this reminds me of my own mother and the way she'd kiss my knee when I'd skinned it.
It's too heart-wrenching to think about.
So I look away.
Several members of the staff invade the room. I don't know who exactly because I can't bring myself to look in that direction, but I can hear the squeaking from the soles of their shoes as it rubs against the tile floor.
“Stop!” I hear Aurora shouting. “It's not her fault! She has issues with men!” Then I hear a lot of grunting, followed by Suzette sobbing, and I assume the staff members are trying
to pry Aurora away from Suzette. “God damn it!” Aurora again. “Don't you morons read our files?” There's a loud bang. Now Suzette is screaming. I finally muster up the courage to look in their direction. Aurora is slumped against the wall, wincing as she touches the back of her head. Suzette is being dragged from the room by two nurses and she's reaching for Aurora, a glimmer of fear present in her hazel eyes. “Rory!” she cries, her fingers clawing at the air in a desperate attempt to get Aurora's attention.
Part of me feels useless and awful, sitting here and watching everything, but I honestly don't know what I could have done to help.
Getting up from my seat, I walk over to Aurora and extend a hand to her. She slaps it away with a scowl. “Thanks for all of your help.”
I remain in my spot, my hand still directed toward her. “I didn't know what I could have done.”
With a shake of her head and a grunt, Aurora takes my hand, grips tightly and I help her to her feet. Her balance is unsteady, but she uses her free hand to steady herself against the wall. “Something, Addy. You could have attempted to do something,” she mumbles.
I follow her back over to our table and Aurora hisses, rubbing the back of her head. “Damn that was painful.” She widens her eyes and blinks. “I'm still seeing white spots.”
“What happened, exactly?” I inquire. I don't bother telling her that I couldn't look.
“Marjorie.”
“Oh.” I look down at my hands. I, as well as every other patient at Oakhill knows exactly how forceful Marjorie can be and that she knows exactly how much pain to inflict to get her point across. “I'm sorry.”
Aurora shrugs. “Eh. It's just a bump on the head. I'll go to the infirmary in a little bit and get an ice pack for it.” That still doesn't really explain what happened, but I take it as that's as good of an answer as I'm going to get.
My attention shifts and I stare out into the empty hall. Even though it's deserted now, I swear I can still hear Suzette's high-pitched squeals. I swear I can still smell antiseptic wafting through the air like they were going to rub Suzette down with cotton before stabbing her with a needle. “Where do you think they took her?”
“I don't think anything,” Aurora harrumphs. I turn my head to look at her and notice that she's gone back to coloring. “I know where they took her.”