The Beckoning of Broken Things (The Beckoning Series) Read Free Page A

Engles?” He holds a blue, plastic rectangular tray with a small paper cup and a larger paper cup.
    Drugs. More drugs. I sigh. I just woke up and already they want to sedate me. I grab the white covers and pull them up to my neck. “Yes, that’s me.”
    The man is the color of dark chocolate. His face is marked with dimples. He looks happy. He looks like something I felt once. He looks alive and passionate and content within himself. I was just starting to find that place inside of me when I was brought here.
    “It’s time for your morning cocktail, your morning ablutions , and then, it’s group therapy time.”
    He says that like I should be really, really excited, like I’m a child getting ready to go to the zoo. I don’t like the sound of any of it. Even the phrase “morning ablutions” sounds like a cold, clinical process instead of a warm, wet welcome into the day. “What if I say no to all three?”
    He throws back his head and laughs, like I have said the most amazingly hilarious statement he’s ever heard. He almost makes me smile. Instead, I cock my head and regard him. I don’t think he’s making fun of me. I think he’s just happy.
    “Don’t look so glum. I don’t bite. I am here to serve.”
    “ I’m here against my will. I didn’t ask to be here.”
    He nods and winks, as if we’re in on a conspiracy. “You know that and I know that. But I still have a job to do.” He holds out the tiny paper cup. It looks like a thimble in his big, beefy hand.
    “Am I just supposed to take this without knowing what it is?” I ask.
    “No one has explained these medications to you?”
    I shake my head in negation.
    “Your therapist, Dr. Beasley, was supposed to fill you in during your orientation.” He frowns.
    “Is that what last night was?”
    He nods.
    “Didn’t happen.”
    The huge smile returns. “One quick second then.” He whirls and exits like a strong wind.
    I sigh, push back the covers, get up , and wander into my sterile bathroom. I hate this place. It reminds me of living with Aunt Topaz. I pull down my cotton pajama bottoms and plunk onto the toilet to relieve myself. My tongue feels like it is wearing a woolen overcoat, courtesy of the drugs. I stick it out and examine it in the mirror. It’s coated with a strange greenish substance, like mold. Why did they position the mirror so I can watch myself on the toilet? This is a strange, strange place. I don’t belong here. I don’t know where I belong. Where do Light Rebels normally hang out?
    All Smiles returns, big grin in place. I see him through the partly open bathroom door. He is followed by Madame Therapist, now known as Dr. Beasley. Dr. Beasley seems as prim as All Smiles is happy. “Ms. Engles?” he asks. “Is everything okay?”
    “Uh huh. If you can call being in a mental hospital okay.” I wipe, flush, and stand, fluffing my long brunette hair with my fingers. Brushes are probably forbidden here. I could poke my eyes out with the bristles. Right. Like that would help me escape. I exit the bathroom and stand before them.
    We all look at one another. All Smiles beams. Dr. Beasley frowns. I stare.
    Dr. Beasley clears her throat and begins. “Matthew mentioned that you’re concerned about your course of drugs. ”
    Matthew. So that’s his name. I’m going to stick with All Smiles. “So, I’m on a course of drugs? Not just one, but a whole course?”
    She clears her throat again. “ We’re the experts here. It seemed wise. It seemed like the best way to proceed based on your symptoms.”
    I shake my head.
    Dr. Beasley smiles. It’s the first time I’ve seen a genuine smile on her face. “Our job, Ms. Engles, is to determine the best course of treatment for someone such as yourself.”
    “What does that mean? For someone psychotic?” I stomp over to the bed and sit down.
    Dr. Beasley follows. “No, dear, for someone who presents…” She looks to Matthew for guidance.
    All Smiles beams at me. “We get a lot of