The walls of the facility were always that harsh, cold white, and the smell of disinfectant had seeped into every c***k, so that after a while, even people in there found their tongues started to taste bitter.
Jasmine was locked in a single room on the third floor, with red marks still on her wrists from the day before when the orderlies had forced her to take her medication.
The attending doctor stood in front of her, holding a diagnosis report, his face blank, and said, "Ms. Evert, your paranoid delusions have gotten pretty bad. You need a full course of treatment."
She tried to argue, but the moment she opened her mouth, a uniformed orderly handed her a handful of colorful pills and shoved them right in. The bitterness traveled down her throat, and she coughed so hard that tears roll
