Crimson

Chapter Five

Chapter Five
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My cell- as so equitably deemed- is a stark-white room complete with two cots, two bedside table drawers, a small lavatory and blinding white (headache-inducing) lights pouring from the ceiling. There's an intercom overhead too, and a dome-shaped camera that whirs and blinks blue occasionally. The wall is padded with cushions, which befuddles me. I would think a research facility would look less like a mental hospital.

"For safety purposes," the male Nurse behind me points out.

"We've had patients before who tried to off themselves, so we had to take some precautions."

He stares at me warily and I wonder how many of those patients he has witnessed and if no one here knows anything about using euphemism when mentioning the dead.

I'm handed a pile of dull gray garbs and a transparent cup with a single blue pill inside.

"Prep for your treatment. Take it right after you eat later. For now, settle into your cell and get acquainted. Good Luck."

The metal door slides shut at his departure.

I notice there are no handles in sight, just a blinking red dot at the jam.

I flex my fingers nervously. Surely I'm not locked in? I fumble with the door, but it remains sealed shut. A low hum sounds from somewhere in the room, and the padded walls consequently swell and close in around me. A wretched heave erupts from me, one liken to Ellen's. The irony makes me laugh, then pause when I hear the familiar scrape of an oxygen-carrying tank dragging against the floor. I shudder and close my eyes, willing my mind to eradicate such absurd apprehensions.

I'm seconds away from having a mental breakdown when the door slides open.

I whirl around dementedly, half-expecting to see limp brown hair and nasal-tubes.

Instead, long red hair, big brown eyes, and an upturned nose face me.

"Uhm, are you okay sweetie? You look like you've seen a ghost."

I clear my throat awkwardly, then give a mirthless chuckle. "I just couldn't get the door to open."

She steps pass me wordlessly, and the door closes again. I realize that she's wearing the same gray apparel I was given.

"All you've got to do is swipe your wrist against the red dot-"

She does so, and the door slides open."- and there you go."

My face heats up in embarrassment. "Thank you, I feel stupid now."

She shrugs, then crinkles her nose in my direction. "Erm... Your nose is bleeding."

I wipe at it, flushing red, but she doesn't seem to notice.

She tells me that her name is Angela [but call me Angie, sweetie], that she's my roommate, that she loves my hair and that she would love it if I could stay on my side of the room.

There's no dissent on my part.

I place my gray pile atop my cot. My foot hits against a small suitcase beneath it.