Obscurity

Chapter 64: Sneaky

Sierra

"Wow, Alma."

"Yeah. So, now you know." She says.

"That's one hell of a history you've got there." I say as I pick my jaw up off the floor.

She just nods.

"So, you're saying he never called or came back home after that? Then, you get divorce papers and that's it?" I ask in disbelief.

"Yep. This is the first I've seen him since."

"Wow. Just wow." I shake my head.

Alma yawns and closes her eyes. I get the impression she's emotionally drained from recounting her and Spencer's history. I feel for her. I had figured their past was simple. Like, maybe they'd dated or whatnot. I had no idea the extent of or how deep that history went. From hearing her recount the unfairness of it all, it makes me not like Spencer very much anymore.

"I'm going to go mosy around." I tell Alma.

She opens her eyes and looks at me. "Can you keep this between us? I really don't want any more problems with Spencer."

"My lips are sealed. I think he's a douche bag, but I won't let him know that." I grin at her.

"I'm serious. Just keep this between us. I appreciate it, Sierra." She says as she closes her eyes again.

I hop off my bed and slink over to the doorway. I look out into the hallway, shooting glances from one end to the other. No one is in the hallway or coming out of the nurses station at the end of the hall. I traipse out into the hall toward the day room. I keep my usual stride, taking my sweet time.

As I pass the different patient rooms, I sneak glances into the doorways. I don't stop walking, but I look into each room being nosy. Nothing real exciting is happening in any of the rooms. I'm bored beyond belief. As I go to pass room 2, I halt my pace and look into it. I quickly scan the hallway to see if anyone has seen me standing here. Nope. All clear. I duck into the room and close the door quietly behind me.

Room 2 is Michelle's room. I think I will nose around in here and see if I can find anything in her belongings that might glean any sort of information as to where she is. I expect to find her clothing, possibly her ugly doll. I hurry over to the tall clothing cabinet and gently pull open the doors. I have to be as quiet as possible so no one hears me in here. I don't want anyone walking in on me snooping.

Michelle doesn't share a room with any other patients, so I should be in the clear for a little while.

As I open the doors to the clothing closet, I'm shocked to find nothing inside but a spare pillow without a pillow case on it. All the hangers, permanently affixed to the main pole that runs horizontally across the cabinet, are hanging empty. There isn't a shred of clothing inside this space.

Bewildered, I close the doors and move over to the bedside table. I slowly open the drawer of it to find the exact same thing, nothing contained therein. What the fuck?

I move swiftly over to the dresser in the corner and begin opening drawers. Each is completely empty. I race through checking every drawer to find they are all the same. Bare of anything personal to Michelle.

My heart rate has increased, and I begin to panic a little. Where is she? Where are all of her things? I notice the bed is freshly made, new linens and careful creases in the top blanket. It hasn't been slept in recently. At least, not since it was changed.

I hurry into the bathroom and flick the light on. I look in the shower and on the sink, nothing, save for the hand soap and a fresh hand towel. This room and bathroom have been completely cleaned and refreshed. New towels, new bedding. Michelle is not here. And I'm getting the sneaky suspicion that she isn't coming back. Ever.

Where is she? My mind screams. Logic starts to overtake my panic. Maybe she was actually released. Maybe we were sleeping one night when a doctor came in and signed her forms. Maybe the doc signed the forms through email or fax or whatever they use. There are ways around having to physically come onto the unit to deal with things. Right?

I chew on my thumb nail as I stand at the foot of what used to be her bed. My mind racing, thoughts working out what this freshly cleaned room and these newly changed linens mean.

I take a couple of deep breaths and decide it's time to get out of here. Logically thinking, she just went home. She's been released. Maybe we could just ask Chris. If she was released, there'd be no reason to withhold that information. There have been other patients who have left, and they've told us about it. He can't use the patient confidentiality thing to avoid telling us because if she's gone home, she isn't technically a patient anymore.

Crossing the room, I glance back at her bed one last time. I have a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. I don't feel like she was released. It's a weird nagging feeling that I can't really describe. The only word I can think of in relation to the feeling is "bad." I have a bad feeling about Michelle and where she is. I pray she isn't in Secondary.

I grab the doorknob and turn it. There's a resistance when I turn, so I try to turn it the opposite way. The knob produces the same resistance, and I let go of the door handle. I step back as the door opens from the outside. My brain screams at me to run and hide, but there's no time. I freeze. My feet planted where I stand.

As the door swings open, I lock eyes with Chris.