“I do not understand.” he thought.
“You will. Are you ready?”
He finished the second knot. He stood up. The voice said, “Come. Walk silently.”
It was as though he was being led through the almost-darkness, although he felt no physical touch upon him; he saw no physical presence beside him. But he walked confidently, although quietly on tiptoe, knowing he would not walk into anything nor stumble. Through the big room that was the ward, and then his outstretched hand touched the knob of a door.
He turned it gently and the door opened inward. Light blinded him. The voice said, “Wait,” and he stood immobile. He could hear sound—the rustle of paper, the turn of a page—outside the door, in the lighted corridor.
Then from across the hall came the sound of a shrill scream. A chair scraped and feet hit the floor of the corridor, walking away toward the sound of the scream. A door opened and closed.
The voice said, “Come,” and he pulled the door open the rest of the way and went outside, past the desk and the empty chair that had been just outside the door of the ward.
Another door, another corridor. The voice said, “Wait,” the voice said, “Come”; this time a guard slept. He tip-toed past. Down steps.
He thought the question, “Where am I going?”
“Mad,” said the voice.