Isolation Wing, last medicine run of the night; the latest run, the fewest stops. The med cart, manned by two large male orderlies, makes its way down the hall. It pauses only at the cells of the patients who are restrained and therefore, presumably, require no armed cover or extra bodies. A cell opens, one man goes inside, the other waits in the
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No one looks forward to shower day less then Vivian Thompson. If he could make his way to the infirmary he would do so just to find and swallow as many little blue and red pills as he could shove down his throat.
Amytal
Nembutal
Seconal
Phenobarbitol
All in a row to escape the water coming down on him. Vivian rolls into a protective ball trying to make himself as small as possible so the drops don't get him. Holding his head and screaming his throat raw.
Valium
Prosom
Rohypnol
Ativan
Versed
Mogadon
Serax
All those wonderful colors that made him calm for bath day or moving him or anything else. He keeps howling as patients run past him looking for a way out or a weapon or just to run. There's smoke and noise and water and no pills to make it better. After he's kicked and trampled by enough people, Vivian pulls himself across the floor to hide under a nurses desk.
He'll escape later. When the lake isn't trying to take him back.
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