Exactly when you can make a phone call isn’t the only thing governed in here. They control the WiFi also. You get one hour a day, but that’s only after you’ve proven yourself. I’ve proven myself. I can troll whoever I want for sixty minutes every day. Which is great. It’s where I get my energy to stay angry.

When the egg sandwiches are swallowed and those who haven’t proven themselves yet head to the communal area, I go back to my room and lift my phone. Holding down the button and waiting for the WiFi signal to flash on has become so satisfying it’s like having a drink.

I quickly scan through the headlines in The Journal.ie. Money missing from the football association claims the number one spot. Then, an earthquake on some island leaving hundreds of inhabitants without homes. I find it strange the earthquake doesn’t make it to the top spot ahead of the missing money.

After reading a short update about Avril Ryan’s investigation and finding nothing new or of consequence in the report, I decide it’s time. I’d better ring Tara back in case she decides to come here. I don’t want her to find out I’m a patient in this clinic, not a doctor.

Chapter Fifty-Four

It’s six in the morning. There’s a fog sitting on the grass outside the window. The bottom of the trees that line the walled garden aren’t visible at the moment and the trees look like they’re floating across the back wall. The wall doesn’t have any barbed wire, even though this clinic feels like a prison. The barbed wire is in our heads.

Only people who want to get better will be admitted here. Or so they think. This won’t be easy. Are you prepared to put in the hard work? I remember their words, chiming in my head like church bells when I’m trying to sleep. I nodded and nodded.

Three months ago it seemed like the better option. The only option. Things could not go on the way they were.

The hospital management where I worked were as good as they were legally allowed to be. It was impossible to keep me employed once they had it figured out. At first, nobody suspected anything was wrong. I was so clever. Feigning illness, migraines, I even faked a miscarriage once. But my shaking hands and tardy timekeeping soon revealed the problem. My job demanded responsibility, accuracy, concentration; there was no room for error. No room for me to be anything less than perfect.

‘Contact us as soon as you’re feeling better,’ the staff officer said. I remember his concerned look. I could tell he was embarrassed for me. Why? I don’t know. He worked in a hospital. People get sick all the time. I was sick.