March 13 - Daylight
I've just arrived at the institution. Two men with the strongest of arms hold me as if I am some criminal and then pass me over to a pair of doctors in purple shrubs. I have just come from the police station where I've been in holding for I couldn't say how long. I lost track after passing out from exhaustion. When I awoke, I was told by the authorities that I was being moved to a psychiatric facility. Since then I have been trying to convince them that they are wrong, that they needed to keep a lookout for that horrid group of monsters Mother led, but everybody shrugs it off as hogwash and I look like I deserve where I am headed. Before I was shipped off, I was finally, after having asked countless times, told who committed me. It was Kam. He said I have been losing grip with reality for many years now. Kam...
March 25 - Sunset
I've decided to take a step out of my room for the first time since I arrived. The floor is open for all patients to move around as we please. Dinner is at six in the cafeteria, though most of us grab our food and find a quiet corner because the cafeteria smells like rotting eggs and sour milk. Usually, I just wait in my room for one of the doctors to bring me a tray, knock on my door and leave my food on the floor. But the man who usually does it, told me earlier that he wouldn't anymore because he refuses to encourage my distance from people. Hmph! I shouldn't be surprised. It sounds like another Kam tagline if I've ever known of any. He didn't drop off my breakfast, refused lunch, and now I am starving. I guess I should at least try.
April 9 - Early Afternoon
Tick, tick, tick, tick.
This facility is my prison. The shelves are bare, the air is cold. The sound of an old grandfather clock at the end of the hall echoes through the building as if the walls are made of steel. At one in the afternoon, management plays dated folk music from what I can only assume is Russia from a record player with the large horn-like speaker on it. This lasts for maybe thirty minutes if we are lucky and we are expected to get up and moving whether it be dancing or exercise. A young man--he can't be older than twenty-five--asks me to dance. His unique footwear captures my attention more than anything and before I can answer, he's pulled me to my feet and we dance. He tries to start small talk while we dance either nod or shake my head here and there. He also asks me if I have anybody at home waiting for me. I tear up thinking of my children. How I wasn't able to say goodbye to my sons or my daughter. My parents. And as much as I hate to say it, to Kam. He asks me again and I tell him about Kam and as I do, I watch his face become grotesque.
"I thought you liked me!" he screams at me.
Confusion takes me aback. "What?"
"You said you'd dance with me! You like me!" My arms closed inside his palms, I can feel his anger erupting. Then he pushes me to the floor. "Me!"
My eyes wide, I watch as the young man is grabbed by a couple of doctors. He's still screaming at me at the top of his lungs, spit arching out of his mouth with such ferocity that I have to lean back more in case I may get hit. The doctors drag him into his room and lock him inside and the music is turned off and all I can hear now is the ticking of the grandfather clock and the thumping of the young man's head against the wall.
April 15 - Late Morning
Tick, tick, tick.
We have a new patient. She says her name is Taylor. Actually, to be more precise, she goes by Taylor Swift. She's not Taylor Swift and anybody with a pair of eyes can see it, but she believes she is and probably the reason why she's been dropped off like some litter of pups. I push myself to say hello to her. Being so into myself since I arrived has put distance between me and the others here and the little outbreak between me and the young man--I still don't know his name--has left me feeling rather lonely. Unfortunately, either Taylor here has already heard the news about me or is as distant herself. She tells me she knew I was trouble when she walked in and she actually tried to sing it.
"Excuse me?" I say.
"You need to calm down, you're being too loud."
What? I didn't yell or anything. What is she talking about? "I haven't--"
"Now we've got bad blood!"
I get so flustered, I throw my hands in the air and go to my room for the rest of the day.
After dinner, it's our responsibility to clean our own dishes. The process should take each of us five minutes max. However, like every other night, there is a long line from the sink because one of the patients--I think his name is Rafael Striker--can't stop oogling at himself in the mirror. Everybody waits patiently behind him, tapping their toes until he finally brings his show to an end. A few weeks ago one of the new patients told him to hurry up. The patient was then taken to medical after one of Rafael's violent personalities came to the forefront. I had hoped that I could have gotten to the front of the line right as dinner was over like I usually do, but I didn't want to be caught in another sing-off with Miss Swift.
Once we have finally finished the dishes, everybody is brought to a straight line where management counts all the utensils to make sure nobody has run off with a knife or fork. Hell, even a spoon can be used to scoop out one's eyeballs.
"Twenty, twenty-one," the one doctor at the front of the room says and then looks up at the line. "We're missing one knife." We all know what that means: whoever has it should step forward because nobody's going anywhere until that one knife is found. "Look, we can do this the easy way and move on. Or we can do this the hard way."
There's a groan that starts from the one end of the line and manages to make way all the way down to the other. We all know what the hard way entails: a complete and meticulous search of our pockets and clothes and anywhere on our bodies where we can hide a thing or two.
"The hard way," the doctor continues, "is unpleasant for everyone." There's a giggle from the other end of the line. "Well, mostly everyone. So whoever has it, hand it over."
Nobody moves and the doctor then warns us again before counting down from three. Right as he hits zero somebody steps forward from the line with their hand outstretched revealing the knife. As I focus on them, I realize that it's Taylor.
The doctor grabs the knife from her hand and says, "Your reason for taking it?"
"Got a long list of ex-lovers, they'll tell you I'm insane."
The doctor rolls his eyes. "Of course they will." Even he looks like he's had enough of her. Before he can dismiss us, Taylor glances down the line at me, cocks an eyebrow and says, "It'll leave you breathless
or with a nasty scar."
April 16 - Morning
There's a knock at my door and I am expecting it to be my "wake up" and that breakfast is in half an hour, but usually there is one knock along with one of the doctors yelling in the hall. But this time there are multiple knocks and I have to get out of bed and open the door for it to stop. When I do, I see Taylor on the other side of it, a horrible grimace on her face and what looks like a monster behind those bright blue eyes of hers.
"Get lost, Taylor," I tell her and try to push the door closed on her. She catches it, though, and jams the bottom with her foot in case she loses grip.
"This ain't for the best, my reputation's never been worse, so you must like me for me."
"Whatever."
"Just think of the fun things we could do, 'cause I like you."
"All right, you've made your point," a woman says as she steps into view. She's an older woman, could pass as one of the orderlies. However, her lack of scrubs makes me think differently and the two men behind her--two other patients mind you--confirm my hunch. She taps Taylor on the shoulder and directs her to leave the room. Taylor obeys her like a dog and then it's just us inside my room.
The woman introduces herself as Jackie Collins. No, she is not an orderly. Yes, she is a patient, and she has been inside for many years. She also tells me she's can be quite the asset. It's a lot to process, especially first thing in the morning and when I question her, she's already heading back through the door.
"We'll talk soon," she says from the hallway and then all I hear are her footsteps going down the hall.
April 20 - Lunchtime
I hunch over my plate of beans and toast by myself at a table at the back of the cafeteria. After Taylor's little stunt with the knife, nobody's allowed to eat anywhere else. I poke the beans with my fork. I'm not hungry, though I think it has to do with the fact it's almost been a week since I met Jackie more so than the quality of the meal, which is a bit too grey for my liking. To this day I haven't even seen Jackie let alone spoken with her.
Taking a deep breath, I push my plate away and lean back in my chair. Taylor's at the front of the room, a guitar in her arms, playing some song I've never heard before and attempting to sing it. I'm assuming it's another Taylor song and from the reaction of the men and women around her, she's butchering it.
Maybe this Jackie woman really was an orderly. It would explain why I haven't seen her in days and why Taylor did as she asked with a snap of the fingers. Maybe this Jackie is the head of the facility. Just the thought makes my insides burn and I fist my hands. Comes into my room and gives me some false sense that she can be an asset? What even did that mean? An asset? What--to get my dishes cleaned first so I don't have to wait for whatshisface to stop playing around with the sink? Just thinking about it annoys me so I get up and head back to my room.
As I am leaving I hear a loud crash. Behind me, Taylor is looking horror-struck at her guitar in shambles on the floor. Another patient--it's the man I danced with weeks ago--holds what's left of the handle.
"Look what you made me do!" he says to her mockingly.
April 21 - Afternoon
Opening one eye while I attempt to meditate, I spot Taylor rummaging through the garbage, a glue stick in one hand and whatever pieces of her guitar she can find with another. Each time she finds a piece, she tries gluing it back together again. The glue won't hold, though, which leaves Taylor going from a breakout of sobs to a determined will to make it work within seconds.
"It's sad, isn't it?" I jump as the voice comes out of nowhere. Behind me, Jackie hovers, her hands against the back of the bench where I sit, looking at Taylor. "That glue can barely hold two pieces of paper together and she's putting all her faith in it to bring a couple dozen pieces of wood back to its former glory. Just goes to show what this place is capable of."
I turn my attention back to Taylor who's gotten so frustrated she's glued everything she's found into one ball of trash. Jackie takes a seat next to me.
"Who are you?" I ask.
"I told you the other day, I'm Jackie Collins."
"No, who are you exactly? Are you an orderly, are you the head honcho of this place? You come to my room out of nowhere and hussle Miss singer-songwriter over there out of my face--"
"I'm just a patient like you," she tells me.
"Then why haven't I seen you before? Why haven't I seen you since last week? You're not at meals or anything!"
"Because I was out."
I squint at her. "Out where?"
"Just out," she says simply. "It happens occasionally. I can slip past the doctors and enjoy my time in town."
Her confident smile makes me wary. "What?"
"Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm usually found by the time the sun rises and I am hauled back inside, slapped on the wrist and told not to do it again. Then I play their games for a week or two and then when everybody thinks I'm in a good place, I find a way to the outside again." She looks me up and down. "Told you I could be an asset."
May 5 - Dinner
It's been a couple of weeks since I first spoke with Jackie. I've learned a bit about her, but not much. She's pretty locked up, although what I have learned is that she's a very capable woman. She's been locked up here for a very long time and looks to someday be free completely. It sounds like a complete cliche story if you ask me and one that is hiding the real one, but that's the story she is trying to sell so I don't question her on it. To be honest, we've spoken more about me in our time together. Where I've come from, how much I've learned. I talk a lot about my family and how much I miss my children and want to have them back in my arms. I also miss Kam. Each time I bring Kam up, she tells me that I am a fool for wasting my time with such a man.
"He's the one who locked you up in this place!"
But I don't believe it. I try to convince her that he's under that Rose girl's spell, that he's never been good at looking to the future and foreseeing the consequences of his actions. At this point, Jackie shakes her head in agitation and silences me by changing the subject. This time I stop her.
"If he knew this is where I'd end up, he wouldn't have committed me. If you could have seen him the night the police came... He was put on the spot and panicked. He's not a bad man--"
"Do you hear yourself? Your husband put you in here so you weren't a problem to him anymore--"
"No, no, I don't believe that!"
"--he was your rock, he fixed many of your problems and then he got tired of it and when the new model came into play, he went for it."
"That's not how it happened!"
"You think so?" Jackie smirked so harshly she looked more like an enemy than a friend. "If I got you out tonight, could you prove it?"
A long conversation follows and we end up deciding that I am leaving tonight. Jackie tells me how she wants to do it and then we wait for our opportunity.
Once dinner comes to a close, everybody gets up and heads to the sink where Rafael has made it there first. He's being extra exuberant tonight and Jackie, who's in front of me in the line, whispers something in the man's ear in front of her. With a closer look, it's the man I danced with. The man's face lights up with excitement and he pushes past everybody in line to the front where he begins talking to Rafael. Rafael gets upset and a fight breaks out between the two men and patients gather around the brawl. Men and women holler at the top of their lungs, some scared, others enthralled with the excitement. After a few minutes, two orderlies barge through the door and push through the crowd and try to break the two up. I'll hand it to Rafael, while he seems like a friendly guy at first glance, he's a beast with his fists. It takes both orderlies to pull him off the other man. But the other man isn't finished. Like the time we danced, something sparks inside him and he's off the rails, spewing profanity at the top of his lungs and he lunges back at Rafael and all four of them are on the floor, the orderlies calling for help.
Amidst the chaos, Jackie's managed to snag one of their keycards from their belt and in a swift motion has it in my hands where I know I need to move fast. I'm at the door to the room in three long strides and right as I go for the handle, two more orderlies have barged inside. They don't spare me even a look as they rush by and I slip into the hall.
I am able to bypass all locked doors in my path and before I know it, I am out the front door.
And I am running, running as fast as I can in the only direction I can see lights coming from. I don't know where I am going, but I do have the strange sense that I did the night I ran from Mother's followers and just like then I refuse to stop. I have to keep moving because if I don't, it won't be long before I am caught. I can't be caught. I won't let that happen. Not until I prove to Jackie that she is wrong about Kam.
It starts to pour as the sun rises. If there is any time I could be caught it's now. This is when Jackie said she always was. The sweater I've been wearing for so long is drenched and torn so I pull it off and leave it on the ground.
And somehow I make it. I am back at my house.
I'm ready.
