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The nurse is fifty, maybe. Human. She comes in behind Murphy and another guard, and none of them gets close until they’ve checked my eyes.
She doesn’t smell scared. And I respect that.
“Mr. Greene. Do you know where you are?”
“Unfortunately.”
Her mouth twitches.
“Do you know why you’re restrained?”
“I lost my temper.”
The nurse shines a penlight into my eyes. “Any dizziness?”
“No.”
“Nausea?”
“No.”
“Chest pain? Trouble breathing?”
“No.”
“Any urge to hurt yourself?”
“No.”
“Anyone else?”
“Yes.”
“Fucking hell,” Murphy mutters.
She doesn’t even blink. “Do you intend to act on it?”
“No.”
“Can you control yourself if the restraints come off?”
“Yes.”
“How do I know that?”
I look down at my hands. Human. Ten fingers, no claws. I look back at her.
“Because they already would be off.”
Nobody says anything. Murphy looks at the straps. He looks at me. He knows I’m right. And so does she.
“Why?” she asks.
“I need my privileges.”
Her eyes sharpen.
