Grace
After the incident in the cafeteria, I do not see Elizabeth again for two days. When she’s finally brought back to our room, she looks mostly like herself, if not a little tired. I ask her what happened, where she’d been, and she only shook her head and told me not to worry.
“Maybe it’s better if you told me,” I say.
“It’s nothing. Dr. B is mad at me. Not a big deal.”
I think I know why, but I’m afraid to ask. “Is it my fault?”
“No,” she says. “It’s mine.”
Elizabeth doesn’t elaborate further. She only smiles and says, “Hey at least it got me out of those restraints.”
I smile sadly. It is my fault. Three days ago, Elizabeth suggested that I flirt with Dr. Branson and see where it got me. “There’s no harm in it,” she said flippantly.
“I’m a married woman,” I told her.
She look
