Great.

I picked up a stethoscope from the counter, the cold steel burning my fingertips. When I set it down, the noise echoed throughout the room, sending chills down my spine. I didn’t know if I’d ever get used to working in such a place.

There were many beds. Some were hidden behind the closed separator curtains, making me nervous that I wasn’t alone. That there might be a sleeping inmate behind one of those curtains. Maybe he would wake up at any minute to rape and murder me.

It could happen.

I jumped when a buzzer sounded and a door I hadn’t noticed in the room opened. A man, who I could only assume was Dr. Giles, entered the room. His jacket was as white as the walls around us, his eyes just as cold, but his smile was warm. I guessed that would have to be enough.

“You must be Lyla. I’m so glad you’re here. We’ve been shorthanded for far too long.”

Suddenly, the room felt warmer and his icy eyes melted into a friendly brown.

I nodded and smiled. “I’m glad to be here.” It was a lie. I wasn’t glad—I was scared. I felt dirty and cold, but still, a job was a job.

I spent the next hour following Dr. Giles around the infirmary and getting to know the space and where everything was located. He pointed out the machinery, explaining that a few of the machines were older and had certain tweaks. Apparently, when it came to hardened inmates, top-of-the-line equipment wasn’t all that important.

“The good news is that you’ll never get bored here.” He smiled. “There’s something new every day.”

That sounded promising. I didn’t bother to ask what some of the “new” things would be. My imagination was already going nuts with the possibilities.

“Your main responsibility until you get comfortable here will be intake screenings. You’ll spend most of your time doing those. When a new inmate comes in, you’ll do a full work up. You’ll then fill out a four-page document on each inmate’s physical and mental health status.”

He flittered around the infirmary, speaking quickly, making it nearly impossible to remember everything.

“Those documents are important, so don’t skim on them. If we’re going to be safe here, we need to understand exactly who it is we’re working with. When an inmate enters our facility, it’s important to understand all their health issues—be it mental or physical. Trust me. It could save your life.”

It was a lot to take in. My worry must have shown on my face because Dr. Giles reached out and laid a hand on my arm. “You’ll get the hang of it.”

He moved on and continued. I followed.

“In addition, you’ll be expected to administer doses of medication. Many inmates in the system are on medicine, and we’re responsible for making sure they receive it. Your other duties include coordinating outside services for inmates and overseeing care management for HIV-positive patients. You’ll see a lot of that here. That and Hepatitis C. These men are locked together for most of their lives. You need to understand that certain relationships ensue.”

I nodded my understanding.

“Let’s see… what else?” He tapped his pen against his chin. “Oh yes. When it’s time for an inmate to leave, we’ll coordinate with the correctional department to facilitate the patient’s discharge and arrange for continued care and medications outside. There may even be times when you’ll also run a hospice unit.”

He stopped and turned to take in my reaction. “Lyla, your job here is vital. I know working in a prison infirmary isn’t ideal, but you might be surprised to find that this job is extremely rewarding. We can even play a role in decisions on early releases for ailing inmates. It depends on the inmate and their situation, but we occasionally put a great deal of effort into compassionate releases.” He smiled.

He loved his job and was proud of it. That was reassuring.

Turning, he began to talk again. “Lab work is done on-site, and medications are provided by the state pharmacy. With several inmates sometimes crowded into the same cell, and especially with their sexual relationships, infection control is key. If we get a transmissible disease, we’ve got a crisis on our hands.”

Picking up a folder, he began to thumb through the documents. “Any questions so far?” He peeked up at me over the rims of his reading glasses.

I shook my head. Truth be told, I had a ton of questions, but I was too nervous to ask. Removing his glasses, he set his folder to the side.

“Lyla, working in a penitentiary takes some acclimation. We work closely with the officers to ensure our safety in an environment much more regimented than the outside world. We’re prohibited from even bringing a cell phone into the facility, as I’m sure you realized when you were brought in. It’s not necessarily a warm, bright environment. In fact, it tends to be dark. The equipment isn’t state-of-the-art and discussing anything personal inside these walls is considered inappropriate behavior and is not accepted. There are boundaries. If this job is something you don’t think you can do, I’ll understand. Don’t be afraid to walk away. You wouldn’t be the first.”