Free Watch How We Walk by Jennifer LoveGrove

at a bank, before he came here. He’s been here for three months now, but that’s still not as long as me. Peter doesn’t talk very much, and Mina is really nice. I’ll come and get you for the next game.
    I crossed my arms in from of my chest. I could feel my ribs.
    â€” I won’t be staying long enough.
    Louisa looked startled, as though she’d forgotten that she was talking to someone and was surprised when I responded. She swayed, still rattling the pill jar.
    â€” Do you have any clothes I can borrow? I lifted the edge of my papery gown.
    â€” Like another pair of jogging pants and a sweatshirt? I’m cold. Too much air conditioning in here. It’s really cold.
    I was relieved to see at least my shoes beside the nightstand. Minus their laces.
    â€” My stuff will be too big on you.
    â€” That’s okay. I don’t mind. Maybe then I’ll feel better, enough to play Monopoly. I smiled at her, desperate.
    Louisa grinned. She was missing a tooth in the front.
    â€” Okay then. She pulled a few things out of her drawer and then handed me a pair of yellow fleece pants and a green sweatshirt with wolves on the front. I cringed and turned it inside out and pulled it over my head, gagging at the acrid body odour. I would have to breathe only through my mouth all the way home. I closed my eyes and inhaled and exhaled and tried to focus. I didn’t know my way around at all, let alone what the best route for escape would be.
    â€” Emily?
    My mother’s voice nearly jolted me off the bed. I was too slow. I wanted to disappear. I smoothed the sweatshirt over my hospital gown and opened my eyes.
    â€” You’re finally awake.
    I said nothing.
    â€” I was here earlier, but you were still asleep. They sedated you after yesterday and I guess you were still out until this morning.
    My mother spoke much more quickly than usual, in a strange near-whisper, and she kept glancing around the room. If she saw Louisa, she didn’t let on. When my eyes met hers, she looked away.
    â€” Where’d you get that filthy sweatshirt? She heaved a duffle bag onto the bed.
    â€” I brought you some clothes and your toothbrush and some of your books and stuff. Did you see the doctor yet? What did he say? She stopped and stared behind me. Her shoulders sagged and she shook her head.
    â€” Oh, Emily!
    I didn’t know what she was looking at, and I didn’t care. She had purple arcs beneath her eyes and she hadn’t bothered to fix her frizzy hair. She walked carefully to the side of my bed without getting too close, as though I was contagious.
    She fiddled with the abandoned IV, then gave up. I wanted to explain that I refused to be poisoned with any more mind-controlling drugs, but I was just too tired.
    â€” What happened to your IV?
    â€” It fell out in my sleep.
    â€” Bull.
    Again I shrugged. I opened the bag and pulled out a t-shirt and black jeans.
    â€” Emily, let them help you.
    â€” I don’t need help.
    â€” But—
    â€” Not theirs or yours or anybody’s.
    She took a step toward me, then stopped and stepped back again.
    Instead of shouting back like the mother I had been used to, she wilted like an unwatered plant, limp and defeated.
    â€” But—
    â€” I’m not staying in here. I’m fine. I’m leaving with you.
    â€” But you’re not. You’re not fine. She was still staring down at the floor.
    â€” I don’t even know why I’m here. Let’s just go.
    A few moments passed and the hum of the fluorescent lights seemed to get louder, while shrill announcements and rattling carts receded into the distance. She sat down next to me on the edge of my bed.
    â€” You collapsed at school after your exam. They said . . . they said there were marks all over your arms. They said you’ve been cutting yourself all up. They didn’t know what else to do, so they called an ambulance.
    Louisa walked into the