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him as something else.
    There were so many questions I wanted to ask her, but I felt like I knew that she wouldn’t answer a single one of them. I had no chance to get any information through asking directly, so I had to use my brain.
    “I just... can’t lie around all day in this room”, I sighed and she pushed me carefully back, so that I would lie down again, which I did.
    “Well, you have to”, she answered.
    “But this room makes me feel sicker than I really am”, this time I tried to sound more whiny.
    “Your room is barely any different”, was her answer, while she took a close look at my stapled stomach. “I know what you are aiming for, Meg”, she said lowly, “but there is no way for you to get fresh air. We are below ground... somewhat.”
    I cannot really tell if the pause she made was because she realized too late that she spilled something, or was intentional. However, my thoughts were already racing again and I didn’t inquire any further, simply, because I didn’t expect that. Everything here reminded me of either a hospital or a prison and I have never heard of something like that underground. On the other hand, no one would call me an expert.
    The rest of the day I spend asking myself what exactly she had meant: if we were only one level below, directly beneath the surface or if this was some super-secret lab a mile beneath the earth.
    They didn’t give me new bandages.

Day 26
    I forgot to mention that they – as in: the nurse – brought me ‘Phantom’ by Susan Key. I just wasn’t in the mood to write. Maybe I should have, to sort my head, to stop myself from panicking.
    Sooner or later I will have to learn that, because there will be no meds helping me. ‘Phantom’ is one of my favorite books – and of course the one they gave me was mine. It tells the life-story of Gaston Leroux’s ‘Phantom of the Opera’ using different narrators. This story is so disturbing that it always makes me cry. It was a good choice. It is a genius distraction for me.
     
    The Doc tells me in two days I will be able to leave, and that if I behave – I have the feeling that I will hear this like... forever – that she will un-staple me tomorrow.
    Did I mention that this cream they put on my scars stinks? Well, now I have done.
    Two days, two more days... I’ll continue reading, or I’ll go insane.
     
    I try not to be bored, and not to get up, so maybe writing. How exciting. Doc is really nice and pretty, so of course I ask myself what she’s doing here. She could be working anywhere. Is it the money? That would make her appear far less nice.
    She’s taller than me and has strawberry blond hair, which makes her blue eyes appear even more unreal.
    Doc doesn’t say much to me, but she’s friendly. There’s this slight smile on her lips, just a hint. Maybe that’s why I can’t help myself but like her, unlike that grumpy nurse.
    She’s exactly like I would picture an old WWII nurse, who has had too many hands on her behind when nursing in some military field hospital. I am mean, I know, but laying around all day makes me restless and this book, I know it already and it already psychologically traumatized the first time I read it, and the second, and the third...

Day 27
    Everything is removed and it feels... strange. How can I describe it? It feels like I miss it, being stapled together, like I am less safe now, more vulnerable.
    Or maybe because I realize that... I will go back again. They will put me back in that cage again.
    I have been somehow looking forward to it, to a change in my daily routine of... nothing, waiting, trying not to think of the day that will come. And now that day might even be tomorrow.
    I missed my workout... but did I miss being shackled, blindfolded and put in a cage with a beast I haven’t even seen? I don’t know anything about it, about him, and it... yes, it scares me. Yet, there is nothing I really can do, right? I will be there again, soon. She told me. I