“Can I please go home now? I don’t like it here.”
“Soon, dear, you’re coming along rather nicely.” What does that even mean? I’ve given up on trying to understand her and the way she speaks. The other one had disappeared somewhere, and I hadn’t seen her in days, leaving me to deal with nurse goober and her robotic self. At least I felt much calmer these last couple of days than when I first came here.
They hadn’t eased up on the restraints, but I’ve come to accept that it was for my own good and stopped fighting. Not that it did me any good to argue; no one ever seems to listen. “I can’t wait to get out of here and take care of the little bitch who did this to me.” Wait a minute; I hadn’t meant to say that out loud. That’s been happening a lot lately. I keep saying things as soon as they pop into my head, as if I have no control over my tongue.