Betsy eats these shows up like hot bread rolls. It helps me understand her a little better, knowing she’s been bred on this stuff. Each shows has women in their place: cooking, cleaning and raising babies. The men make the tough decisions and every episode ends in a family hug. She sits in front of my TV everyday with her mouth open, repeating every word Lucy says to Ricky.

“Isn’t it magical?” she says, turning to me. Her hands cup her plump chin.

“What?” I’ve been going over escape plans in my head. The guards never leave their posts, the bars are fastened tight, the restraints are annoyingly effective. I have nothing.

“You know,” she says pointing to the TV. “The way that Lucy and Ricky love each other.”

She says love like its a verb, something you chose to do. In my experience you either love someone or you don’t. Love boils under your skin like fire. Even when you don’t want it to.

I shrug and turn my eyes back to the ceiling. The black camera watches from the corner. I want to smash it. Smash them all.

Betsy pushes up, comes over and sits on the edge of my bed, which creaks and slumps down under her weight. She keeps inserting herself into my life like this, trying to get me to follow the rules so I can get off restriction. And I tried at first. I ate the food they set before me, just not enough. I listened to Betsy drone on without strangling her. I even took their damn pills. Of course, I kept them under my tongue and pretended to swallow. When a guard found my stash of gloppy pills under my mattress, they put me back to square one. The look on Betsy’s face when that happened mirrored my mother’s when I set the kitchen drapes on fire while playing matches.

Betsy leans in my face and waves a hand to get my attention. One of her yellow curls bobs inches from my nose. I blow it away and roll over.

“Can’t I just go to sleep?” I moan.

Betsy shakes her head and the bed jiggles. “Part of your restriction is that you have to listen to me. If I say you’re doing better, Dr. Rayburn will believe me. So listen, or you’ll be peeing in a tube for the rest of your life.”

“Fine.” I stare exaggeratedly at Betsy.

She scowls, but talks anyway. “Lucy and Ricky. Their love is amazing. I wonder what it would be like to be in love.”