Skinny. White face drawn in. Legs, short with no flavor. She walks up and down hallways in silence.

And no one speaks to her. Others pace as well, looking down at the hard tile floor; cold. Socks can not stop the cold. Black on bottoms.

Meg thinks as she strolls. Images of Ben and Frank. Wondering where they are; under a bridge, in some park, curled up in cardboard. She just wonders and laughs a bit. 

Meds are given out at the nurses’ station. Patients line up to partake like young boys and girls at Mass; the wafer, the wine. The pills, the water. They do not talk. The nurse doesn’t say a word. An assembly line in a factory.

There is screaming coming from a room. Let me out of here, the man yells. Get me out of here. He continues. The door is closed. There is a small plate glass window that does not open.

He’s been placed in solitary for being a bad boy; knocked over a whole rack of food  trays; apple sauce all over the floor. Chocolate pudding smeared on walls. Yelling the whole time how he was an innocent man. Brought in from Rikers. Too mad to be amongst prisoners. Brought back to Manhattan, where his crimes were committed.

And he ain’t talking. Just screaming. Scaring people. There is no peace at Bellevue. Only the brief tranquility of sweet pills.

Meg goes back to her room and lies down on her thin mattress. Her roommate looks at her; the girl missing an arm and a leg. Asks if she’s scared? Meg shakes her head , no. The young lady says, I’m terrified.