No Way Back (Mia's Way, #1) by Chloe Adams Page B

one around me yet.
    I hate feeling alone. The sounds from what one of the ladies calls the dorm area unsettle me more. I don’t know them. I don’t know anyone here. Even if I did, I have nowhere to hide, if they come after me. Crossing my arms, I walk back to the front of the center. Fabio glances at me, and there are members of the press peering into the front door waiting for that money shot of me mopping or something.
    “Where’s Gianna?” I ask the receptionist.
    “Car broke down. On her way.” The plump black lady’s name tag reads Wendy . I don’t remember meeting her the other day, but I really only remember Gianna. “Take this back to the clinic.” She hands me a file.
    I take it and walk down the hallway, past the scary dorms that smell like someone tried to cover body odor with a can of Lysol. I hurry past them to the medical office in the back. It must’ve opened early today; there are already women in the waiting area. The nurses’ assistants are triaging two women, one of whom is visibly battered. I clench the folder tighter.
    I reach the reception area and hand over the folder then turn to leave fast.
    “Hey, ah …” someone calls.
    I turn.
    “We need some hands down the hall. Come on.”
    Before I can object, the older woman ducks into a room and talks to someone else. I start down the hall, not sure I can stomach any sort of medical stuff. After my stay in the hospital, I never want to see another syringe or pill in my life. The older woman trots away and walks into another room. When she reappears, she’s holding a tray full of bottles of urine.
    “Take this to the lab,” she says, shoving it into my hand.
    Disgusted, I step back fast. They have lids, but I’ve got awful luck and I can see them all spilling on me. None of them do. By the time I look up to ask where the lab is, the woman is already down the hall.
    Irritated, I return to the reception area.
    “Lab?” I ask the woman there.
    “Two halls up, five doors down.”
    I follow the instructions, walking slowly. I so want to take a picture of this tray full of pee for Ari. She doesn’t believe me when I tell her how bad this place is. I reach the lab area and set the tray on the half door.
    “Hello? I have … um, bottles of pee here,” I call awkwardly.
    “Come in!” someone calls from the back of the room. “One minute and I’ll be out.”
    I enter. There’s a lot of lab equipment on one side, but it looks old. There’s duct tape around one machine. I set the tray down on a clean, stainless steel counter next to a deep sink and wait. One of the machines is on; I hear humming.
    “Okay, our first batch.” A trim, middle-aged woman appears from the back room.
    I don’t know how these people can be so cheerful. Wendy, the receptionist, is the only one who looks like she hates her job.
    “You new?” she asks.
    “Involuntarily, yes,” I answer. “I’m Mia.”
    “Ah. You’re part of the special program.” She smiles. “I’m Ricki. Who’s your sponsor?”
    “Gianna.”
    “A total sweetheart. Nice to meet you. Now, grab some gloves.”
    “I’m not like, trained for anything.”
    “This is easy. Gloves are on the wall.”
    I turn to see several different colors of gloves on the wall. White, green or purple. I go with purple.
    “You allergic to latex?” Ricki asks, gaze on my gloves.
    “No.”
    She smiles curiously. “The green and white are latex, the purple non-latex for people who are allergic to latex.”
    “They match my shoes.”
    She laughs. “I’ve never heard of anyone choosing gloves to match their clothes.”
    I’m not sure what to say. She points to a box on the counter. I grab it and hand it to her.
    “This is easy. All you do is drop one of these strips in each of the samples.”
    I frown. I don’t really want to mess with bottles of pee. She puts the box of strips on the tray then moves away, towards the machine I assume is humming.
    “What’s up with the duct tape?” I ask, noticing