A Five-Minute Life

They let me be and guided the residents back to bed. I sat with my knees drawn up, arms resting on them. Hands dangling but ready to fight again. As the sanitarium went quiet, sleep toyed with me, coming and going. Then a hand on my arm gently shook me awake.

It was Sunday morning. The watery light of dawn filtered in from the window.

“Jim?”

I jerked my head up and winced at the crick in my neck. Rita crouched next to me, her expression a myriad of gratitude and regret. Another nurse stood by the door, a syringe pack and a blue plastic box in her hand.

“Jim, you can go,” Rita whispered, blinking against the tears in her eyes. “The police are still here, waiting for a statement. Sarah and I need to sedate Thea now.”

“What for?” I said, my voice a croak.

“We have to know what happened. Brett said he never…”

I shut my eyes, shook my head. “Don’t.”

“We need to examine her,” Rita said softly. “Thea can’t tell us if he’s lying or not. Not with words.”

My glance went to the plastic box in the other nurse’s hands. A rape kit. My stomach churned and bile rose to my throat.

Inhale. Exhale.

I hauled myself off the floor and glanced around Thea’s room for the first time. A twin-sized bed, a small desk with pens and paper. A ruined dresser, its wooden shelves cracked and splintered. My shoulders ached at the sight, remembering how I’d ripped Brett off of Thea in a black haze of rage.

Aside from the wrecked dresser, the room was the same as most other resident’s quarters but for the papers taped all over the walls. Reminders and notes.

Bathroom is here.

This is the closet.

Two years living at Blue Ridge, and Thea still didn’t know her own room.

I gave her a final glance. She slept peacefully, but they’d stick a needle in her to send her down deeper so that she wouldn’t wake up to an examination she needed.

She can’t consent to that either.

“Thank you for taking care of her,” Rita said. “You were right. I’m so sorry. I wish I’d listened.”

“I wish I hadn’t been right.”

I forced myself to leave Thea and stepped into the hallway. Alonzo and Anna were conferring in low voices. They stopped when they saw me.

“My damn phone was off,” Alonzo said. “I didn’t get your message until late. Too late.”

“Too late is right,” Anna said. “Get your résumés ready, my dears. When Delia Hughes hears about this…”

“Where’s Brett?” I spat the name through gritted teeth.

“Jail,” Alonzo said. “He was in her room, his privates hanging in the wind. Even without your statement, it was obvious what was happening.”

“Come on, Jim,” Anna said. “The police are waiting downstairs.”

In the foyer, two uniformed officers were interviewing Jules at the front desk.

“He made a lot of crude jokes,” she said. “But he was so fun. And nice. I never…”

“Crude jokes in general,” an officer asked. “Or jokes with specific innuendo toward residents?”

“Both. He made a lot of jokes…” Jules swallowed and tried again. “I never thought it was real. I never did.”