As promised yesterday, we're having our monthly visit to the House of Mercy this evening.
Had a pretty quiet night shift at the community center. I've got another one scheduled for tomorrow, so I'm going to need to bring the produce down to our place for local orders before I go and then Kat and Miles will deal with our customers (Max will be with Kat's parents until dinner time).
Then two mornings at the bakery, back to farm work on Friday as I pick for the market, the market itself on Saturday, and then on Sunday... I guess I get a day off? That'll be nice.
Sitting on her bed in the early dawn light, flipping through her chart, Julie's head was crowded with questions.
Was it real? Was it just another test, like the keys? Had the keys been a test at all? If it was real, were the notes she was reading a confirmation of her insanity... or theirs?
The sound of the chart sliding across the floor had woken her with a jolt. It had taken a few seconds to discover the source of the noise and much longer to consider whether or not she should get out of bed to pick it up.
The three quick knocks on her door and then the sound of rapidly retreating footsteps had shoved her into action.
And that, perhaps, was the biggest question of all: who had slipped it under her door to begin with?
Julie rubbed the ache in her head with her fingers, closing her eyes for a few breaths. Breakfast would be arriving in half an hour and she knew she couldn't be found reading her chart.
And it was her chart, wasn't it? Or at least it was a copy. The entries were grouped together in different colored pens, which was odd. Babs always used the same pen when she was with Julie. It was like someone had taken several attempts to get it all down, using whatever writing instrument was at hand each time. The handwriting certainly looked rushed.
It also looked vaguely familiar. Like Julie had seen it somewhere before. She couldn't seem to place it though. It was like trying to grab a wriggling fish with her bare hands.
At least, it was until she reached the final page... and the final note, hastily scrawled at the bottom. It was not an entry from Babs. Julie knew that even before her eyes reached the name.
Julie, I hope you've found these notes informative. And I hope your old pills have been "disagreeing" with you. But they're starting you on a new routine tomorrow and I don't know if I can keep 'adjusting' your medications - there are some liquids, and maybe even a few needles. We need to get out of here before they get more of their poison into you.
We need to leave tonight. Be ready.