Page 67 of Little Twisted Things

“Yeah. Sure. I’ll go find her now.”

I took a seat at the desk and picked at my scrambled eggs. The door opened, and Dr. Bondi walked in.

“George said you wanted to see me and that it was very important,” she said.

“Look.” I gestured to the painting.

She walked over and studied it. “Do you remember going to sleep, Katherine?”

“Yes.”

“And waking up?”

“Yes.” I nodded.

“But nothing in between?” she asked.

“No.” I shook my head. “Who do you think that is?”

“I’m not sure.” She squinted her eyes as she scanned the painting. “Katherine, did you notice this?” She pointed.

“Notice what?”

“There are six tiny cottages amongst the trees. These five have warm yellow lights in their windows, and this one is totally dark.”

“That’s odd,” I said.

Then Dr. Bondi whispered, “Who’s living in that sixth cottage?”

“Dr. Bondi, when can I go out to the main area with the other patients?”

She glanced at me. “Today. In fact, why don’t you get dressed and I’ll have George escort you to the day room where the TV and games are?”

“Thank you.” I smiled. “I’d like that.”

After I changed out of my gown and into a pair of gray sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt, I pulled my hair back into a ponytail and George led me to the day room.

“You don’t have to stay long.” He smiled.

I looked through the narrow window of the double doors.

“This is the day room?”

“Yes. If you don’t like it, you can always go back to your room.”

“Okay. Thank you, George.”

He nodded, pushed his keycard against the metal on the wall, and the doors opened. The room was bigger than I’d expected. Sunlight poured through many of the windows that lined one wall. I walked over to the window as the sunlight poured through it and stared out at the courtyard where some of the patients were watering the flowers with the staff.

In the corner, there was a TV mounted to the wall with an old sitcom playing. I glanced at one of the large tables, where a man who appeared to be in his sixties worked on a jigsaw puzzle. The furniture looked like something comfortable you’d find in a home, not a hospital. There were soft gray sofas, oversized armchairs with knitted blankets draped over the backs, and tables with different books spread out.

A woman with silver hair sat at one of the tables, working on a crossword puzzle.

“Come over here.” She waved.

I walked over and took a seat across from her.

“You must be Katherine.”