Page 145 - Musings 2020

The guards wheel me back towards the prison and all hope drains out of me drop by drop,
with every step that brings us closer to the cold grey building. As we enter, the guards at the
door look at me and smile. “Home Sweet Home,” the guard pushing my wheelchair says
finally, gesturing to the locked room, Daniel and I had escaped from. On a nameplate over the
door is the inscription, Nightingale Ward, Patients with Schizophrenia. I look at the sign
blankly.

“I’ve got to say, every time we lock you up, you find a new way to escape the asylum. You’re
a smart girl, I’ll give you that,” the guard tells me. “Now how about I give you some alone
time to think about what you've done? Give Daniel my best the next time he appears,” he
says, winking as he opens the door. He wheels me into the room and leaves me there as I
stare at him hopelessly. “Completely cuckoo,” I hear him tell the other guards as the door
shuts behind him. “Quite a handful,” agrees another.

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