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Short--waking in an 1893 asylum
I'd really love a critique! What I'm worried about is that the dialogue doesn't sound right for the time period.
I awoke with a start and it was as if my rib cage would simple break away once my lungs exploded with air. I coughed, feeling like I’d been kept under water for too long, and sat up in sudden movements. I kicked away the thin, white blanket and jerked my head around to absorb my surroundings. I saw a man, startled and standing by the door, holding a clipboard. My heart pounded. My lungs pumped and struggled, while I fought back a scream. I eventually calmed when the man didn’t move, but kept his distance.
There were bars in the window, here, but the room was simple and nonthreatening. I wasn’t attached to machines or tubes. I closed my eyes for a moment, cleared my throat, and asked, “I am in the insane asylum?”
“Yes you are,” he replied evenly. “You were found unconscious on our grounds last night. You remained here—as opposed to moving to another hospital in the area—in case there was a psychological reason to your being in that state.”
“And what did you find to be the reason?”
“Absinthe—injected into the bloodstream,” he paused. “Miss, please, this is a safe place. I need you to speak with me.”
I shuddered, my legs pulling tightly together. “You think I tried to kill myself?” I shook my head slowly, wondering at the irony. “I was attacked, sir. I myself am psychologically sound.”
His eyes softened. “Attacked by whom?”
I nodded, “He was French.” Inhaling deeply, I stood. “I apologize for stealing a bed for the night; you must have other patients. I really must be going.” I paused. “I can pay you, of course. You shouldn’t suffer for helping a stranger.”
“I am most sorry,” he began. “I did not mean any insult. Please, have dinner here. I can’t ask you to leave at this hour.”
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