This preview shows page 1. Sign up to view the full content.
Unformatted text preview: " Anne Marie smiled and shook her head. She picked up her magazine and started reading again. "Don't get in an argument with her, Mona," she said, just as Mona turned away. The elevator doors opened quietly on the seventh floor. This was where they always put Mayfairs, unless there was some pressing reason to be in a special department. Mayfairs had rooms with parlors here, and little kitchens where they could make their own microwave coffee, or store their ice cream. Alicia had been in here before, four times as a matter of fact-dehydrated, malnourished, broken ankle, suicidal-and vowed never to be brought back. They'd probably had to restrain her. Mona padded softly down the corridor, catching a glimpse of her- self in the dark glass of an observation room, and hating what she saw-the chunky white cotton dress, shapeless on a person who wasn't a little girl. Well, that was the least of her problems. She caught the fragrance as soon as she reached the doors to Seventh Floor West. That was it. The exact same smell. She stopped, took a deep breath and realized that for the first time in her life she felt really afraid of s...
View Full Document
- Spring '10