A World That Is Not Mine

IX.

Stevie had gone back to her designated room. She was so mad she didn't wish to speak to anybody, she was even too mad to ask the important questions, like when the doctor was coming and the schedule. She knew that the times were depending on the people. Extremely crazy had early bed times and scheduled meal times. Crazy had better accommodations, but the mildly crazy---she wasn't sure. She wasn't even sure if she fit into any of the categories. She knew she was not mentally declined, insane, or even in the slightest---crazy. She knew she was a different kind of woman. She was aware of her surroundings. She was also aware that when she stepped foot in the hallway, it was too painful for her.

A few minutes had gone by and her thoughts got interrupted by somebody knocking on the door. She had figured it was the woman she yelled at and soon felt bad about it.

"Come in!" she yelled, unfolding her arms and putting her less aggressive side out.

"Here you go, ma'am," the nurse-- Maggie from before walked in. She had clothes for her to change into.

Stevie stood up. "What's this for?" she neared the young woman with the clothing.

"You have to change into these. It's policy," she added.

"Mm..." Stevie looked at them---sucking her lips in. "No exceptions, I take it?" she smiled---taking the material from her. It was a pair of sweatpants, socks that had rubber on the bottom, and a T-shirt. She walked into the restroom, that was in her room---really it was a stall.

"Afraid not, but I can have your clothes washed for you..." Maggie lingered.

"Do you have vodka?" Stevie asked.

"Excuse me?" the woman creased a brow on her side of the door.

"Y'know vodka... alcoholic beverage that makes you feel better than you do?" she opened the stall door and held her clothes over her arm. "Wish I had something like that right now," she looked down. She was feeling her own sadness rush over since her husband did put her in a place like that. She felt bad because, she knew he was afraid of her and she never wanted that to be.

The woman kind of smiled when Stevie reentered the room.

"It's the only way, you can wash these pants. It kills the bacteria and what not without damaging the leather," she smoothed her hand over the matte fabric.

"I'll see what I can do---" the woman gladly took them. "Maybe I can wash them at home for you?" she kind of lingered.

"I don't wanna be high maintenance or anything. I can wait till my husband comes---he can at least take them home," she placed her hands on her hips. "Provided he even comes," she shook her head.

The woman nodded.

"By the way, when does the doctor come in? and what will I be tested on?" Stevie felt the need to ask since she was there.

"It really depends. There will be blood tests and questions. They want to see how you respond to each thing."

Stevie nodded. "Would it be all right to have a pen and notepad?"

"I can't do that, until you're tested. They have to make sure you wouldn't hurt yourself with the pen."

Stevie nodded again, feeling a little more sad now. More so because, that was her coping mechanism. She was in a place she didn't know. All she wanted was some answers to her questions---now she had many. She was realizing the woman was believing her. The woman had toned down since she first met her in the hall. But she also knew she gave a bad side of herself first.

"I can supervise you..." Maggie added.

Stevie smiled lightly. "If it isn't too much trouble."