Escaping Isolation

"Is there a problem?" Doctor Andromeda asked, her eyes narrowing as she stood over me, hanging a fresh IV bag on the stand. She squeezed the bag a few times and thumped the line leading into my arm to get the thick fluid flowing.

What the hell had she been feeding into my veins all this time? What had I unwittingly drunk down during all those visits to the infirmary? The questions compounded, and none had any answers in sight. Which only made the fear worse.

Focus, Aurelia. Focus.

Right.

I shook my head and offered a warm smile at the imposter, spooning another mouthful of sludge into my face. "I'm just... thinking about how grateful I am. I know you said it's your job, but... without you, I'd have been dead years ago."

"I know. You're weak. You've always been weak. And even with all my hard work and effort, you'll always be weak." The doctor sneered, shifting away to scribble on her clipboard once more.

Knowing the truth, everything became clearer. Her voice was slightly raspier than in my childhood. A notch deeper in her throat, as though she hid an accent. But I couldn't place her real voice. Not while she still pretended to be the doctor. Most damning, though, were her hands. Doctor Andromeda was a rare left-handed Lycan. It was something we once bonded over. She told me stories about how she was often picked on or mistreated in the pack because she wrote left-handed.

"But," she'd said, "I never let their cruel words stop me. I didn't let them tease, break, or discourage me from aiming high. And neither should you, Aurelia. One day, you're going to rise above what they say about you. One day."

The old Doctor Andromeda was warm. She fed me real food. She built my confidence and did what she could to comfort me, an orphaned child of the pack. She was good.

But this doctor... this doctor called me weak and wrote assertively with her right hand. This doctor worked tirelessly to drain me of blood and confidence. This doctor... wanted me to believe what she was saying.

"I'll take the blood, and then you should go to sleep for the evening. Here, let me take the bowl." She reached out to grab the bowl from my tray, though it was still mostly full. This was the other part of her parlor trick... subtly starving me of any nutrients to keep me too weak to move.

I gripped the bowl tight and shook my head.

"I want to try to eat it all tonight. Maybe it will help me feel better and make your treatments work if I force myself to eat a bit more," I countered, gaze focused on my reflection in the murky brown surface of the soup.

My words meant nothing. She didn't stop reaching until I started frantically shoveling food into my mouth.

Startled, she stumbled back and rested her hand on her chest in disgust. "Why are you acting like a starved animal? Good Goddess, Aurelia. Stop that!"

"I'm sorry!" I mumbled, cheeks full of the nauseating broth and chunks. But I didn't stop. Not until every last drop of soup was gone and the bowl was clean. I needed every bite. Every nugget of meat and veggies. To get away from her and this place.

When I finished, I wiped my mouth on the back of my sleeve and handed her the bowl, eyes lowered. I couldn't stomach looking at the imposter. The signs I should have noticed long before my imprisonment in the isolation ward were suddenly impossible to ignore.

Those signs glared at me every time I tried to meet her gaze. It was painful. But not as painful as all the questions that looking at her brought to mind. Most agonizing of all:

What happened to the real Doctor Andromeda?

My stomach ached. There were many possibilities, but only the worst came to mind.

"Fine. I'll be sure to bring you a bigger helping of porridge come breakfast time, since you're so damned hungry you can’t eat like a civilized wolf," the imposter hissed, snatching the bowl from my hands. Frustration strained her voice as she grumbled under her breath, seeping into the cold air around her.

The tension drew her shoulders and jaw tight, her lips pursed into a hard line. She slammed the bowl onto the cart and grabbed the vials, yanking my arm into position to draw blood.

Eating all my food must have really pissed her off; the blood draw was more painful than normal. Multiple sticks. Needles dug into my arms. And it took forever. By the end, my arm was littered with bruises, and she'd strung a colorful litany of curses under her breath, leaving without another word and with only three out of six vials of blood.

Perfect.

Less blood for her means more energy for us. I know it hurt, but I'm so proud of you.

Thanks. Now, we just have to wait for lights out.

Can you still feel your feet?

Yeah. Up to my knees, too. Recovery won't take as long this time. And the second she's out the door, I'm taking out that IV of poison.

That's my girl.

I leaned back against the pillows, my eyes fluttering closed as I feigned sleep for the imposter. The west ward doors creaked open and shut once more, sealing me in silence.

I counted.

One... two... three...

Seconds to minutes. I needed to be sure. I couldn't move too soon and risk her coming back in during the middle of my escape. I needed to be absolutely certain.

Eighty-eight... eighty-nine... ninety...

The coast is clear, Aurelia. I can't sense anyone nearby.

I cracked my eyes open a peek, and the lights in the main ward were off. We'd made it. Lights out.

Wasting no more time, I reached down and tugged the IV line from my arm and bolted upright on the bed. Scanning the dark room, my stomach dropped when I realized... The wheelchair had been moved. Farther now. To the other side of the room. Dragging myself all the way over to it would have been noisy and slow.

I'm going to try and walk it...

Deep breaths did little to calm my racing heart. With all I'd discovered in just the short time since I woke that morning, my nerves were shot, and truly catching my breath was impossible. But I didn't have time. The imposter was getting bolder. Crueler. The disguise was slipping, and there was no telling what would happen when they finally got fed up with pretending to be the doctor.

Now or never.

I threw the covers back and wiggled my feet on the mattress, a flimsy test run for the trial by fire I was about to leap into. When the pins and needles sensation wore off, I threw my legs over the side of the bed and pushed.

For once, the Moon Goddess was on my side. I landed on my feet, solid and steady despite my bones feeling like Jello.

One step, then another, and another. Each step was a small victory, a shift toward liberation. Freedom. A reminder of the strength that I didn't know I still possessed after so long confined to the bed.

You've got this! Nearly there. Grab the chair--

No. No chair. I'm getting out of here on my own two feet.

I turned away from the rusted wheelchair across from me and marched on steady feet toward the west ward doors. The windows were dark, but I couldn't trust that she wasn't waiting on the other side.

I stood on my tiptoes and peeked into the shadowy infirmary. Her desk was empty. All the beds were, too. No figures crossed in front of the moonlit windows. No security rotations shone flashlights into the space.

The coast was clear. And that's all I needed.

Summoning every bit of strength in my body, I pushed into the infirmary and ran for it.