conscious of the consequences | +causesforcalamity
No more group. She had made up her mind. They'd be here in half an hour to bring her to the big room with the circle of chairs filled by meek little women. She had half an hour to get out.
Abigail's eyes flickered around the room, her mind churning. She couldn't climb the fence, not now. The sun was still lowering on the horizon, casting warm orange light across the grounds. If she took her usual route, she'd be seen. Not only that, but they were keeping a better eye, watching all the places she had scurried over before. How would she get out?
Maybe she didn't have to get out. Maybe she could just...move. Not be in her room when they showed up to fetch her, keep them looking until group was over. At least then she'd have some time to herself, truly to herself.
Without another thought on the matter, the young woman sprang up from her bed, moved to the door. It wasn't locked, never was. They trusted their orderlies enough to know she couldn't walk out the front door. No one ever said anything about walking down the hall.
Easing herself out of her own room, Abigail cast a glance around herself. No one seemed to be up and about, so she moved easily down the hall, stepping softly just in case. She followed a few turns, lost herself in the maze of the hospital. It all looked the same anyways, and it didn't really matter where she ended up, so long as it wasn't her own ward.
Her restless legs only stopped their wandering when she happened upon a heavy metal door with a small sign fixed to the front reading, 'No Admittance; see nurse's desk for assistance'. The small glass window on the door had tiny metal mesh throughout it, signalling it's more than usual security. Her curiosity was piqued, but she turned slightly, thinking of moving on. There was no point in entering a place that probably had more orderlies than anywhere else.
Before she could get her feet moving again, voices filtered down the hall. Abigail's heart sped up slightly. She didn't fear being caught, or what the doctors might say to her. She feared being put in a room full of women who had been victimized, women much like the ones her father had killed. Women who could never be normal again.
Running on instinct, Abigail pushed open the heavy door, stepped through and let it slam behind her. She noticed a little too late that there was no latch on this side, no handle or lock or knob. Letting that realization sink in, she stepped further down the hall, eyes scanning each door she passed. There was a small open archway that led into a room with a few soft-looking couches, a round table, soft-plastic vase full of flowers. It was like the common room Abigail had access to in her own ward, only anything that could possibly be used to harm others or oneself had been removed.
A deep sigh ripped from Abigail's chest, and she stepped into the room, sunk into one of the plush couches. It was unlikely that they let very many patients into this room. Abigail had clearly wandered into a far more strict part of the hospital, and she could only imagine the patients here didn't interact very well. With this in mind, she figured it was safe to rest here for a while.
