Clay and Michael are given anaesthetic for their shock treatment.
We sit together in the lounge, and Michael asks him why
he's not wearing the blue hospital robes.
"The shock shop won't let you in without them."
Clay points at him and screams so loudly we all shake.
"I need to lie down," he whispers,
and the nurses surround him
and gently lead him away.
He's so quiet and sweet on the ward,
but for a single moment, he's terrifying.
Michael is upset, and I try to tell him that Clay's unwell,
that we're all unwell.
He was hearing voices this morning,
and staring into nothing.
And I hope he's okay,
that he'll be okay.