Nancy stopped abruptly, looking up at Sasha with wide eyes as he spoke.

He was right. She knew things here were weird. She had been picking up on a lot of odd things. Nothing she could put her finger on. Being an empathetic person only helped her connect to people's emotions. It just meant she was emotionally intelligent, more so than other people. It didn't mean she was psychic, but so often people thought that's what it meant. It made her feel like she might be seen as crazy if she ever talked about it. If she ever started asking questions about odd things she sensed but couldn't explain, with no hard evidence to point to. People in the medical field preferred cold, hard facts. They didn't take well to anything more intangible.

She nodded when he mentioned not bringing it up. She didn't want to be marked as a trouble maker, or anything else like that. But she was having a hard time wrapping her head around it- around the ominous "downstairs" she had heard mentioned but never been to, around the woman's room that was still full of her things. 

She didn't want to believe it. If she did, it would meant that she had left one hell hole hospital for another. She would have gone from a hospital that let veterans suffer with wounds, post-traumatic stress disorder, chronic pain problems, current illnesses and old injuries suffer while bureaucracy held help just out of reach. If Sasha was right, then this place was doing the exact opposite. The thought made her stomach churn.

[color=Brown]"I won't let anything happen to you."[/color] She didn't know why she said it. It just slipped out. Probably part of the loose tongue the meds gave her. Grandfather always told her she had a complex about wanting to save people because she couldn't save her parents after the wreck. Maybe he was right.