Shelly’s sparkling Minnie Mouse brooch and round glasses make Natasha want to give her a big hug. Well, those and the fact that Shelly is clearly giving Natasha special treatment since she’s Suhani’s sister. She took Natasha on the “extra-scenic” route through Atlanta Memorial Hospital by wheeling her past the nursery with all the adorable babies and the new cafeteria that has freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. It’s similar to how teachers used to get excited when they’d learn Natasha was related to Suhani, until they realized that she was exactly the opposite as a student.

Shelly removes a brass key and opens the two doors leading to the Psychiatric Unit. They really need two doors? A sign on the second door answers her question: staff, keep door locked behind you to prevent patients from leaving.

Natasha isn’t sure whether to scream or cry. There are dozens of people walking up and down the unit in skid-free socks and gray scrubs, the same types of scrubs she was forced to change into in the emergency room. She had to put her clothes, phone, ID, ChapStick, and hair clip into a plastic bag that was given to a security guard. The only way she’ll be able to use her phone while she’s here is by filling out a request to have it for fifteen minutes a day under supervision.

Some of the other patients make direct eye contact with Natasha, while others, the ones who worry her more, stare at the vinyl floor in a daze. Shelly wheels her past a room that’s empty except for an old piano and a stack of dusty gym mats. The one next to it has large wooden tables with benches that remind her of summer camp cafeterias. A stale smell, like old bread and mildew, permeates the entire place.

Shelly helps Natasha out of the wheelchair and gives her a brief run-through of the unit. Natasha can only process it in snippets. Visiting hours are strictly enforced. Only certain items can be brought by visitors for patients. There are multiple therapy groups throughout the day.

Natasha goes to her assigned room after she gets a folder, notebook, pencil, and printout of the rules. It’s freezing and sterile, and there’s one flickering fluorescent light that makes Natasha think of every creepy psych-ward movie she’s ever seen. Two twin beds are bolted to the floor. Suhani once told her that some patients tried to end their lives by having the beds collapse on them, and ever since then, all beds were fixed to the floor. A sink and mirror are at the back of the room. There are no handles for water, just buttons, so there’s no risk of anyone using the metal parts to hurt themselves. Natasha’s roommate is fast asleep and facing the stone wall.

“Try to get some rest,” Shelly said before she left the unit.