Emmaline’s Story 8

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Emmaline’s Story – On the Inside

Chapter 8

Crazy Parfait With A Wrench

 

CrazyParfait With A Side Of Wrench

 

By the time I returned from the bathroom, Danica and Marie had remade the beds, mine included. B and goon had returned to their posts and we gathered for a group hug. I thanked them for taking care of the mess goon had made of mine. For a change, we all settled in with grins on our faces and slept straight through until rounds.

It had been quite a night and I knew that goon and B would be scrutinizing every move I made. The trick was to outlast them; to wait until they no longer suspected that I was up to something, and then attack when they were no longer expecting it.

I was the last one to the breakfast table and the girls smiled up at me. We talked amicably over lukewarm French toast while watching Helen try not to gag on sugarless syrup.

She explained,

“I’ve been diabetic for a long time, but could never get used to sugarless food.”

I winced visibly and offered her my condolences,

“It’s bad enough to have to tolerate this shit hole with barely edible food. If I was you, I wouldn’t make it,” I said, peering at my breakfast with revulsion.

Helen grinned, stabbing a square with her fork as a man entered the community room. We looked to each other and shrugged. None of us had seen him before.

He stopped next to big B and called for Marie. I watched the stranger intently as Marie approached him. He spoke to her briefly but her face was ashen upon her return.

“Who was that,” I asked, trying to sound unconcerned.

“In-house psych guy,” she said nervously.

“What did he want,” I queried further.

“Twelve-thirty meeting – the inner sanctum,” she replied.

I sat back from my rubbery French Toast and pondered her answer.

In-house Psychiatrist? What the hell am I going to do about this? I need a distraction; a diversion that will pull his focus away from the four of us. Apparently goon and big B called in the all-seeing, all-knowing eye last night. Well, I guess he’ll have to eat crazy parfait too.

I just knew this would throw a wrench into the works, so I cautioned the girls, whispering, “If he prescribes anything for you, pretend to accept it but don’t take anything!”

They nodded their agreement.

I leaned forward and touched everyone’s fingers to mine indicating that we meet tonight.

Psych guy returned a moment later and called my name as he scanned the room.

“Emmaline Mason,” he said loudly, “Emmaline?”

Without as much as turning around or a glance up, I raised my hand and answered stiffly, “Present!”

“In my office at one-thirty,” He ordered stiffly.

I leapt from my seat into full salute, standing at attention in mock-soldier style, I shot back, “Yes, sir!”

He shot a wry grin at me replying, “At ease, soldier.”

In that moment of exchange, I wanted to convey to him, I’m going to make your job as miserable as I possibly can, you talking head!

In the next, he conveyed, Bring it! It’s on!

I knew I had my work cut out for me. In truth, I was worried our plans would be shot to hell, but I also knew my sisters wouldn’t give me up. I picked up my tray and dumped my rubber toast in the garbage to goon’s dismay,

“That’s all,” she asked, as she check-marked a list of foods I’d declined to eat.

“Yep,” I replied with disdain, “Rubber disagrees with my digestion.”

I left goon sputtering and stepped outside, moving to the furthest table; the one where I had recruited Marie, I sat waiting pensively.

Marie emerged from psych guy’s office and made her way around the long table to join me. Before I could say a word, she whispered, “Name, rank, serial number and dog-tags, mother’s maiden name, father’s middle name, bank account numbers and what will your epitaph say?”

I turned stricken eyes to her and she smiled, snickering under her breath,

“The expected nuisances, nothing more.”

I was relieved to find he hadn’t asked about war games and sighed heavily.

I headed toward the inner sanctum with trepidation and rebellious angst. I approached the office, stopped, and glanced inside.

“Psych guy noted my presence and said, “Good afternoon. Emmaline?”

I took a seat in a chair that had cushions. Already, I knew I would probably be coming here a lot. At the very least, I wanted to be comfortable while psych guy busied himself with prying questions and attempted diagnoses.

“So Emmaline,” he began.

“Emmaline,” I asked, cutting him off sharply.

“You are Emmaline Mason. Correct?”

“No,” I said straight-faced.

“No? Well, who are you,” he asked.

“I am Hippolyta, Amazonian Queen,” I said with gusto, while adopting a more regal posture.

“Well hello, Hippolyta,” he rallied enthusiastically, “You’ve come a long way. It’s good of you to join me. I am honored to have you in my office today!”

I know what you’re doing asshole, and it won’t work!

I sat silently, leaving the first move up to him. He smiled politely across the desk pretending to believe me. I diverted my eyes to focus on the wall just past his right ear as we sized each other up.

I realized he was wondering how long it would take to break me, and both of us knew I would try to break out of here before I’d let that happen.

I’ve got more stamina than you do Mr. Wrench with a Prescription pad!

“So where’s your magic girdle,” he inquired with feigned innocence.

I turned to bore holes through his forehead, saying, “Plebeians confiscated it. I will see it returned or my father will destroy them,” and screwed my face into a look of disgust.

“Ohhhh… your father,” he said, already forming his next question, “Who is he?”

“You do not know Ares, the god of war,” I asked indignantly.

“Oh yes, of course, Ares. God of war… and he’s your dad,” he shot the question back semi-conspiratorially.

“Enough,” I shouted with my arm extended with a hand up to block his face, “I will hear no more of your placating nonsense. All the land knows of my father!”

“You’re right,” he said, stifling a yawn, “So how is old pop these days?”

“He is presently in route to storm the gates, kill the plebeians, and return the girdle that signifies my authority as queen,” I said, in a tone of underlying threat.

“I see,” he said flatly, “and he’s coming from?”

I rolled my eyes and spat, “Dolt! He comes from Mount Olympus and will arrive in a fortnight! Father will stop at nothing to indemnify my honor!”

Psych guy groaned softly, raking his fingers through his hair, “Okay, Emmaline, ahem, I mean Hippolyta, our time is up today. I want to see you again tomorrow.”

“Not if father gets here first,” I countered.

“Well yes, of course,” he replied, “I’d hate to interrupt a war for the queen’s honor but, barring that, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I opened the door to go and psych guy said softly, “Good day, Emmaline.”

I ignored him and made a beeline for the restroom. Having caught Marie’s eye, she entered just behind me.

“So,” she questioned, “What did you talk about?”

I couldn’t suppress a wicked smile and simply said, “We had a little talk about Greek mythology.”

“Huh?” Marie looked entirely confused but relieved as well, though she had spread the word to Danica and Helen in case I needed help. All of us were exhausted from waiting and worrying.

“It’s fine. It’s okay. I’m leading him a merry chase down the primrose path and all ‘round Robin Hood’s barn,” I giggled.

When lights out finally arrived, we gathered long enough for me to explain that it’s best to lay low and not try anything until we figure out why psych guy had suddenly arrived on the scene, and to give goon and big B time to forget the preceding night.

 

By Wildfire8470
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Emmaline’s Story 7

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Emmaline’s Story – On the Inside

 Chapter 7

War Games

War Games-Operation Any Little Annoyance

I heard the door leading into the hall open and shut. That was our cue. I cracked the door to my room and checked to see that big B and goon were both gone.

Helen did exactly as we had discussed. She left her room and wandered down the hall, with eyes on the ground. She entered the restroom and cracked the door to check the community room and front desk. I watched her heave a sigh of relief as she turned to me waving the all clear signal.

We ventured into the community room with trepidation. We had decided on our marching orders after lights out, then tossed and turned waiting to put our plans into action. When I saw goon’s face peering through the tiny window in the door, I knew action was moments away. It was all I could do to be still and wait for Na’ to finish night rounds.

When I looked back, my girls were already behind me. My heart filled with warmth I hadn’t known I was still capable of. We padded toward the community room and slipped into the restroom with Helen. I extended my index finger whispering,

“Commencing war games; Operation: Any Little Annoyance.”

We jammed our fingers together hard and tiptoed into the community room. I was surprised that all four of us could move in virtual silence.

For the first time, I’m glad for the butt-ugly hospital socks they gave us on arrival.

Danica took her post at the thick door sill, behind the entrance, to listen and watch for B and goon. Marie sneaked behind the desk to search for CD-ROM’s and unmarked disks.

Helen manned one of three computers armed with my list of web addresses. I ventured into a room behind the front desk that I’d noticed only a day ago. It was a back office.

I’ll be damned. This must be the inner-sanctum.

There were several desks and it appeared quite formal, as though staff and department heads must meet here in secrecy. Scanning the room, I discovered two busts. They were blue with gears emblazoned around their skulls. I memorized the office as best I could, with my heart pounding, stepped out, and shut the door quietly.

Helen and Marie had already found a blank disk and downloaded the sounds and pictures I requested. Helen handed the disk to me and I shoved it into one of my hospital socks as I caught Danica’s eye. She pointed back to our rooms motioning frantically. All of us moved swiftly and closed our door silently just as B and goon returned.

I pushed Helen, in her cartoon dog PJ’s, into my bed and against the wall. I leapt in behind her, arranging pillows and blankets to hide her. To prying eyes, it would look like I was alone with covers pulled up and one arm slung across the heap.

An hour later, goon’s ugly mug peered through the window and I watched her shadow pass by again as she returned to join big B in the front office. I waited several minutes, until I could hear the drone of Na and B talking over coffee. I let go a heavy sigh and realized I’d been all but holding my breath.

All of us merged silently into our circle, at the back of the room, away from the fluorescent light barely whispering through the door window. I waited for several minutes while our eyes adjusted and then raised my finger, laughing quietly,

“Success!”

My girls followed suit and we sat together in silence, holding hands for a moment, though we were anything but quiet. There in the darkness we bonded, squeezing each other’s hands and hugging each other wordlessly. Our minds buzzed with friendship, sisterhood, and shared elation; a feeling not one of us had experienced since our admittance here.

As unlikely as it seemed, we were each other’s family now. I leaned back against the wall, smiling contentedly at having gained so much more than just turning the tables on the staff.

Danica added to our ritual then, extending her finger into our circle. As we reached to touch her finger, she closed hers against her middle finger, forming a circle. We looped our fingers through Danica’s. This time, she did not ask. She softly stated what we all knew had just taken place,

“Sisters.”

It wasn’t a command, a question, or an order. It was a gentle admonition; a softly spoken fact; one we were all extremely happy for. This was our wealth. In this place that was destitute of happiness and devoid of family, we had both in droves.

Helen finally broke the silence, asking,

“What’s next?”

I grinned wickedly and pulled the disk from my ugly, teal hospital sock. I held it up and said,

“Any little annoyance.”

A slightly confused silence followed, so I relented and explained,

“I want them to experience what we did. When we came here, we were scared, confused, in need of explanation regarding what would follow, like our personal safety and how they protect it, how long the likely stay is, what the steps to ‘recovery’ are,” I said, making quotations in the air, “At least within the first two or three days here, those general courtesies should have been mandatory.”

“Exactly,” Helen hissed under her breath.

“All of us are here because we survived something unspeakable.” I continued, “At that point, information and kindness are no longer a luxury. They are necessities. Punishment is not the order of the day for patients being admitted.”

“What Helen said,” Marie whispered in a low, scathing tone.

I went on to finish my thought, “Following the unspeakable, we were strip-searched, had our belongings taken and locked up, We got zero input, zero niceties, zero comfort in any form, zero explanation of what to expect, zero information period; no offer of anything, from a cup of water to sitting down with a staff counselor, or anyone who could address our fears and worries. Not one person told us what to expect here!”

“That’s exactly right,” Marie spat acidly.

“For our terror and trouble, we got one humiliation and violation after another, and ‘follow me,’ only led to yet mortification. They took our belongings, our already limited control, and our dignity along with our shoelaces! The cherry on the crazy parfait was, ‘We earn our own keep around here. You’ll do well to remember that.’ I intend to feed them enormous helpings of crazy parfait and be as distant, aloof, and uncaring, as they were and have remained.”

Uneasy silence ensued while I let the memories consume me and when I resurfaced, I knew what I had to do.

“I’m sorry, ladies. I didn’t realize I was still that upset. I’m going to take a revote for who’s in and who’s out. No one will be shunned if they want out. We’re sisters now.”

I lifted my hand with trepidation and three fingers touched my own.

“Are you absolutely sure,” I asked.

Danica spoke first, “Yes, we’re sure. We all feel the same way.”

Helen and Marie shared their admittance stories then, which closely mimicked my own, and I responded,

“We finish what we started tonight at 4am break.”

All of us smiled jubilantly and gave the ‘all in’ signal. We wandered back to bed and waited for goon and B to go on break. When I heard the front door click shut behind them, we sprang into motion.

All of us went to the front desk except Danica. She manned the lookout post again. I pushed the disk into the floppy drive and extracted sounds of moaning, ecstasy, and screaming orgasms, to install in the start menu of sounds for the computer. I wasn’t really surprised to find that the office machines were fairly antiquated but this time it was exactly what I needed.

I asked Helen and Marie to go get the blue heads from the back office while I extracted a horse blanket to print out a sign. I told Marie how and where to place the busts. I could picture B and goon returning in blissful, enamored adoration, only to have a seat, spin around, and find themselves face to face with blue gear-heads.

“Ya think that’s how they see us?” I asked, laughing, “Heads with gears that need a wrench?”

Snickering to myself, I attached the sounds to various computer functions and turned the volume all the way up. Then I printed another paper with a drawing of a head with Band-Aids plastered on its’ brain. Helen taped it to the side of a blue head, while Danica scrambled onto the counter to quickly tape the horse blanket sign in place on cupboards. Lastly, I downloaded a picture resembling the chain link fence outside and used it for wallpaper. I put it on all the computers.

Working in tandem had spared us precious minutes and we finished before Danica could give the signal. Helen made it back to her own room after I told her to keep her ear to the door.

I lay awake waiting, until I heard big B exclaim,

“What the?”

I assumed she was face to face with blue gear-head and stifled my laughter.

Goon was by her side in a shot, saying,

“How? Who? What the hell is going on here?”

Obviously, she had seen Band Aid brain and the cupboard picture that read, “My imaginary friend thinks you have SERIOUS mental problems.”

Goon stomped toward the hall, rounding on us immediately. This time, she opened every door and hit the room lights on.

She came to our room looking under beds, lifting pillows, and tossing blankets this way and that, when I heard the computer moan and scream,

“Yes! Yes! Don’t stop! Do me, baby! Do me good!”

The three of us tried to appear mostly asleep, as though she had wakened us after resting many hours.

Again the computer wailed, “Ohhh, yeeeesss,” followed by a long scream.

Goon’s face was beat-red and if I hadn’t known better, I would have sworn smoke was chugging out of her ears. Feigning exhaustion, I let myself slump back on the bed and buried my face in a pillow. Goon was livid. She yelled,

“Which one of you Cretans did this? Fess up now and I might go easy on you!”

I swallowed peals of laughter and made sure I was stone-faced when I rose from the bed again. Just as she finished the sentence, the computer wailed,

“Oh, SO gooood! Oh! Don’t stop! Don’t stoooppp! Yeeessss!”

Goon glared at me and I knew I was going to lose my composure.

“You’re behind this, aren’t you, Emmaline? You’ve been trouble since day one!”

I held my stomach like I was going to hurl and ran for the bathroom. I stood there for some time, splashing cold water on my face and fighting back a good belly-laugh, knowing that many wars had been won tonight.

When I returned to the room, I retrieved my list and crossed off ‘Confusion.’

By Wildfire8470
Wildfire8470

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Emmaline’s Story 3

Featured

Emmaline’s Story – On the Inside

Chapter 3

My Informant and the Junk-Food Gods

Danica, Hellena, Emm

At five a.m. the door banged open and fluorescent light flooded the previously darkened room. All three of us groaned. That’s when I knew my voice had returned. I elected to keep silent. Nurse Belinda entered, joined by rent-a-goon, for morning rounds. I turned to face the wall wondering if I would ever know a full night of sleep again.

 

“Arms up,” Nurse Belinda ordered.

 

With eyes still closed I raised my arm swiftly, nearly clocking her. The goon instantly stepped between us and I dropped my arm. She glared down at me saying, “Don’t even think about it, missy.

 

Missy? Missy? Is that the best you’ve got, you eighth grade-dropout? 

 

Big B took my wrist to show me what was expected. She took my pulse and checked my blood pressure while goon watched carefully, spoiling for a fight. Moments later, the two filed out and the room went dark again. From a corner bed, I heard a whisper,

 

“Hey! Pssst! Hey! New girl!”

 

I remained silent. Nonetheless, the voice persisted,

 

“Make it easy on you. Don’t start shit with Big B.” I tugged at the uncomfortable pillow longing for silence but the emphatic voice went on insistently, “Big Belinda and Nadine, the guard, are lovers. Na will make your life miserable if you start up with big B. By the way, welcome to hell.”

 

Breaking my silence for the first time, I whispered, “Thanks, I think.”

 

I snuggled into the blanket, closed my eyes, and drifted back to sleep drawing comfort from having won an ally and potential friend. Precisely at seven a.m., I listened to what could only be a herd of Buffalo stampeding through the halls. I lay there shocked, thinking, Chaotic disorder in a place that’s all about control? Surreal.

 

The girl in the bed across the room got up and headed for the door, then paused to toss over her shoulder, “Smoke ‘em if ya got ‘em.”

 

I sat up in bed rubbing my eyes and then looked around taking in my surroundings. “Not what you expected. Huh?” It was the voice from the corner bed.

 

“It’s ahhh,” I stumbled, grappling for words to sum up my estimation, “It’s… No. It’s not,” I replied, with adjectives failing me altogether.

 

“I know. I got here three days ago. I’m Danica.”

 

“Hi, Danica, I’m Emmaline. Call me Emma,” I responded with a halfhearted smile.

 

“Okay Emma. Its weird right,” Danica queried.

 

I knew the feeling intimately but wasn’t ready to talk and deal. I tried not to wince, “What’s weird?”

 

“That we weren’t supposed to be alive today.”

 

I realized that Danica may appear to be a shy mouse, but she was actually sharply pointed and fearless. I closed my eyes as images of the preceding week assaulted me.

 

 

“Yea,” I murmured, “It’s weird.”

 

“Where did you matriculate from,” Danica asked hesitantly, “I mean, how did you end up here?”

 

“How did you,” I countered sharply.

 

“Okay. That’s one for the psychiatrist,” Danica backed off.

 

Feeling slightly ashamed of having rebuffed my first and only ally, I forced a small smile and evaded the topic, “I traded one hell for another. Didn’t you?”

 

“Yea, sure enough,” Danica laughed softly as we stood and approached the door. I estimated she was about my age. Probably a year or two younger, I surmised. Her dirty-blonde hair was short, cropped close to her face with bangs. It was flattering, but gave her a childlike appearance. She was a little taller than I and as thin as a rail. I doubted she had ever eaten an entire meal. Had I seen Danica from a distance, I would have mistaken her for a kid.

 

Maybe she is just a kid. Too young to feel fear? I wondered but felt certain that by virtue of being here, she had definitely known fear.

 

She stopped me in the doorway saying, “Show no fear and stick close. I’ll be your informant.”

 

I wondered why I would need one. What could possibly be worse than last night?

 

Danica cautioned me to avoid the food-cart stampede running from smoke-break to breakfast. We parked it at the end of the long table to wait until the other patients were seated with meals. Big B and goon doled out trays that were made specifically for patients on special diets, one of whom chose a seat directly across from of us.Through lowered eyelids, she said a soft hello.

 

“Hi,” we replied in unison.

 

She eyed the empty spaces in front us and asked, “Not eating?”

 

“I wish,” Danica grumbled.

 

“I’m diabetic,” she explained, “They force me to eat this cra… food,” She amended her language.

 

“We’re going to have to teach you some driving words,” I smiled.

 

Just then, Danica grabbed my hand and hauled me out of my seat, “C’mon. The mob is gone.”

 

“Wait here,” I instructed the young woman, “We’ll be right back.”

 

I searched the picked-over food cart for anything resembling a caffeinated beverage while Danica picked up a tray eyeing me warily.

 

Not finding a cup of coffee or even a soda, I moved to search the opposite side of the cart, rummaging frantically, pushing aside trays, juice drinks, and small milk cartons.

 

Danica stood behind me, waiting patiently, already knowing what I was searching for. With nothing left to search, I turned frenzied eyes to her.

 

“They don’t have it,” she sighed, shaking her head dejectedly.

 

But,” I began half hysterically. “Shhh,” She cut me off, “Na and B are watching us.” She shoved a tray into my hands and guided me back to our seats. I sat down trying to collect myself but failed. I was at my wits end, “But they allow smoking for shit’s sake! No caffeine,” I blurted, questioning her and any junk-food god that would listen.

 

“Nope,” she replied, “This might be a good time to take up smoking.”

 

The woman across the table groaned, as did I. I lowered my voice and whispered menacingly, “I was admitted late last night. I didn’t sleep until some ungodly hour of the morning. I was rudely awakened at five a.m. I’m not going to make it through the next hour, let alone the rest of the day!”

 

“I know,” Danica replied, “Today’s going to be a bitch. Same thing happened to me.”

 

That’s when I felt three sharp taps on my shoulder. Big B stood behind me armed with paper and pencil. She shoved a form into my hands, ordering, “Fill this out and return it to the front desk.”

 

Danica issued, sheepishly, “Oops. I forgot.”

 

“Good going, informant,” I groused.

 

The form requested names and phone numbers for people I was willing to see. To me, it seemed like the final “screw you.” I was done. I walked with steadfast assurance, in a bee-line to the front desk, crumpled the form into a ball, and aimed for the trash can.

 

I made the first basket of my life with an adamant “No way in hell!”

 

Returning to the table in a fit of anger, I shoved my tray away and stomped to a door that opened onto a large porch with an expanse of lawn beyond. I needed air and freedom. I needed a way out.

 

The porch was cool cement against my still bare feet and I made my way beyond it to warm grass and sunshine. I stood in the middle of the lawn soaking in the morning sun and looking around. Finally I could breath and started to wonder why patients didn’t just leave in the night. It was certainly solitary enough, open and unsupervised enough. That’s when I noticed it.

 
 

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Emmaline’s Story 1

Featured

Emmaline’s Story – On The Inside

Chapter 1

The Price of Admittance

Emmaline

I was admitted to the institution with the usual invasions of privacy and personal violations, as though a serious attempt to off me wasn’t enough suffering for one day. Admittedly, I had no idea what to expect here, but so far, this wasn’t it.

A large, rotund rent-a-goon with an imposing posture escorted me into the ladies room. She pushed me past the bathroom stalls into the fluorescent lighting over the sink area.

“Strip,” she demanded.

I blinked in shocked disbelief.

“Come on, I don’t have all day,” she spat.

Hesitantly, I reached for my blouse buttons as rent-a-goon lifted her clipboard and began making notations.

“Put your arms out and turn slowly.”

I did so, praying my humiliation would meet with a quicker end than I had.

“Again,” the goon ordered, moving closer.

Again I turned, with the chill of cold tile running up from the bottom of my bare feet and spreading through all of my extremities. Goon looked my nude form up and down, made another note and asked with incredulous disbelief,

“No tats? Not even a tramp stamp?”

I struggled to choke out words but none were forthcoming. It happened every time life handed me a horrific circumstance. When I most needed my voice, I was hopelessly mute.

The goon relented, allowing me to dress again. I did so quickly, relieved that the utilitarian he-she wasn’t going to attack me.

“Follow me,” She demanded.

Rent-a-goon led me down a sterile, deserted hallway and deposited me in what looked like a small waiting room in a doctor’s office. She exited without a word. I stood in the room wanting to scream after her,

If I was sure you’re a woman, I’d bitchslap the shit out of you!

Instead, I took a seat trying to distance myself from that deeply personal, humiliating affront.

The room was filled to capacity with girls who looked more like ‘the undead’ than human beings. After the most uncomfortable half hour I’ve ever spent waiting, I noticed that they weren’t actually sitting at all. They were lying around, every last one of them; some on the floor, some on a small couch, and the rest draped over chairs.

I pretended to adjust my position so I could see their eyes without being obvious. All were completely vacant save for two girls. The two ranted loudly denigrating everything about the place. My eyes flew back and forth between the desk jockeys and raving girls but no one seemed to notice. Everyone was completely unfazed, as though this was just ‘business as usual.’ An icy chill ran down my spine.

Suddenly, it occurred to me that I was trapped; there was no escape now. I stared longingly at the locked door and my stomach gave a lurch when total recall struck.

I realized I knew these girls intimately. I had studied them in Psych classes, scrutinized and analyzed them trying to form a correlation between speculative analysis and factual understanding.  I rummaged through my mind for anything I could recall from classes and medical books.

An acceptable definition of ‘Incurable insanity’ had eluded me, and all research failed in light of being trapped in a too-small room with those who wore the label.

These were the girls who could say, do, and get away with anything. They could not be held responsible for their actions. These were the patients who were never leaving; veritable street urchins caught in a system which had failed them.

For the sake of convenience, this establishment had drugged them into oblivion. They were drones and junkies completely unaware of reality. Their home was here for all the rest of their days. These were the lost girls.

 

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