The Warden by Madeleine Roux

writing to her family. Three drafts ended up crumpled, torn, and thrown under the bed because they told the truth. Even writing it all out had felt strangely cathartic—the long hours, the strange requests that they filled for Warden Crawford (sit with the patients between these hours and these hours, use these words with them but not these, give them exactly this kind of food), the secrets, the pervasive cold of the basement, the violent, screaming episodes. . . .
    But Jocelyn couldn’t bring herself to send those letters. Her mother would worry, and Jocelyn couldn’t have that.
    There was one bright spot to write about at least, she thoughtwith a half smile: Lucy had seriously improved in the last few weeks. Crawford had even encouraged Jocelyn to take the girl outside a few more times, and as long as he stayed out of sight, the time out of doors seemed to soothe and bolster the child, even if she had never spoken another word after that first trip.
    Jocelyn roused herself from her thoughts, finding Madge had put on her nylons and heels and moved to the bedside table. Holding the Minnie Mouse figure, she swayed almost imperceptibly back and forth.
    â€œMadge? We should get going, don’t you think?”
    Madge’s bouncy blond curls shot up as she inhaled and placed the figurine back on the table. “I was just looking at her. She reminded me of our trip to Disneyland when I was nine.”
    â€œI didn’t know you went to Disneyland,” Jocelyn said, grinning. “I’ve always wanted to go. It sounds so magical.”
    â€œIt was,” Madge said, smiling herself at the memory as she followed Jocelyn out of their room and into the hall. “It was. I climbed on a bench because a crowd was forming around Mickey. My father told me to stay still and be patient but I couldn’t. I climbed onto a bench for a better look. I remember him saying, ‘Careful, doll, you’ll fall! Don’t fall and hurt that pretty face.’ But of course I was so excited that I did fall, right on my dumb face. Mickey came over because I started bawling my eyes out.” Madge shrugged and snorted. “So I guess in the end I got my way.”
    â€œWe should go back together,” Jocelyn suggested lightly. “Maybe next summer. I’ll have some money saved up by then. It could be nice to get away.”
    â€œI’d like to see it again. This time I won’t climb any benches.”
    They ate at their usual table. Madge stayed silent, forkingdown the eggs and porridge on her tray. It seemed to take longer to get their food these days, but Jocelyn didn’t mind. Her appetite had improved, but not much. Madge, on the other hand, was hungrier than ever. She had put on a little weight because of it, but she simply looked prettier; Jocelyn was fairly sure nothing at all could take away Madge’s appeal.
    The orderlies had noticed, of course, David and the others swarming around like vultures whenever Madge flounced down the corridor alone, but she only had eyes for Tanner. And that was generally in her favor, considering he practically drooled on himself whenever she happened by.
    â€œNurse Ash.”
    Jocelyn started, dropping her spoon into her oatmeal and splattering her uniform. She hastily dabbed at the mess with her napkin, twisting to find Warden Crawford standing next to her, his hand flattened on the table near her tray. Madge, apparently, had been too engrossed in her scrambled eggs to notice his approach.
    â€œEnjoying a leisurely breakfast, I see.” He retracted his hand, digging into his pockets for a mint before clearing his throat and nodding toward the exit. “I need you in my office.”
    â€œI’ll be done in just a—”
    â€œNow.”
    Jocelyn paled. He had never used that tone of voice before. She quickly gathered her napkin and drink onto her tray and scurried to the drop-off window. As she returned, Madge gave her a quick,