The doctor talked to her in loud, jovial tones. The Old Man had come and looked at her with worried eyes and said hearty comforting things. They’d sent in the shrink. The ones she could keep out, she did. She couldn’t see Fyn right now. When she thought of Fyn, she saw Fiona looking at Adin with a slight flush on her face. How could she tell him what they did to her? How could she not tell him? Even with the help of the nanites, it had taken a blood transfusion to pull her back from the brink and she was still wasn’t fully recovered. Who knew bleeding out could slow her heal rate by almost half? She’d been weak as a cat, but was getting stronger every day. They all knew she’d slit her own wrists, but they didn’t know why. No one asked. She was on a suicide watch and the few people she did see tiptoed around her like the wrong word would push her over the edge. And they watched her. There was a camera in the corner of the room, like a lidless eye, a red light telling her it was always on.
