Mel's fingers fell away from the door and she gaped a moment at the thrashing man on the floor. She remembered something about letting the seizure run out and giving them pillows or something. She remembered Not-Married-to-Jeremy was a lifestyle coach and maybe she had some useful training. After all, you couldn't have any style if you had no life.
"I'll get help," she also remembered not to let Not-Married-to-Jeremy near the alleged dead body. Mel held her crowded thoughts in her brain and charged off in the direction of where she had heard Not-Married-to-Jeremy's voice come from. Slamming the curtains aside as she did so and hurriedly unbuckled Not-Married-to-Jeremy's right arm. When it was free, Mel moved down to her legs, thinking that Not-Married-to-Jeremy could free her other arm.
"He's having a seizure. Deep Voice is I mean. There's another girl. She was just chucked in with us. Can you help? I dunno nothing about this stuff," Mel gabbled as she undid the unbuckles.
"Oh for fucks sake." Mel muttered as if she had never panicked before. Or felt fear before. Or empathised with the cute girl on the ground.
Thing was, she had felt all those things. Felt them now but they were useless emotions and fucking unhelpful.
"I'm Mel. That's Mr Deep Voice. Mrs Jeremy is still tied to the bed or something." She grabbed the girl on the ground and shoved her away from the door.
Then Mel grabbed the door and tried to open it.
"Can I see?" Mel winced, no that sounded wrong. Before she could explain what she meant, a bodiless voice proceeded by an electronic scream ripped through the room.
Mel winced and worked on rapidly freeing herself, too impatient to wait for Deep Voice to finish the job.
Once she was free, she had every intention of running for the exit.
Mel reckoned they were all pegged as insane and now they were all trussed up in asylum and no one would be helping them. And Mr Deep Voice was just fucking around doing fuck knows what. Mel's mouth twisted.
"Well get your fucking legs free, idiot!" Mel shouted over Miss I Love My Husband hollering for someone who'll probably just stuff her with drugs to make her docile.
Mel scowled at the ceiling. Ladies. She bet Mr Deep Voice was a smooth talker. All false smiles and flashy money. She bet he was a real prick. Miss Jeremy fucker was probably just as conniving. Having resolved to dislike them both, Mel put her brand of problem solving to the test. She couldn't rip her arms out of the straps. Couldn't cut them. She couldn't see any bloody button to call a nurse.
Without further ado, she started to rock her bed, trying to making it tip over and figuring that the crash would bring someone.
Mel came to and squinted at the rudely white light above them. Had she been hit on the head? As her eyes adjusted, she noticed the blue curtains around her, as if she was in a hospital. The thin and tough bed was normal for her, she didn't have the money for a nice mattress. Her's was all springs. Mel looked down at herself, mouth twisted as she saw fucking restraints. They finally lock her up or something? Or she get in a fight? Didn't ache like she'd been fighting though. Mel yanked at the restraints. Yanked again when they didn't give way.
A voice, unfamiliar, made her pause. Answer? Answer.
"What the fuck is this place?"
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