Insanity (Asylum 1)

This could be me.

It’s not until Marjorie walks in and opens her mouth that I look in Suzette’s direction again. “Ladies time—.” The burly nurse with red lipstick on her two front teeth takes one look at Suzette, her big eyes go wide and she runs from the room screaming, “Damn it!”

Seconds later two orderlies, another nurse, Marjorie, and Dr. Morrow run into the rec room. Dr. Morrow is shouting instructions at the orderlies and each one of them clutches Suzette by the elbow. Dr. Morrow shouts at Marjorie and the other nurse, “What the hell happened? How did she get out?”

But I thought she was dead?

My gaze breaks away from the argument and I stare at the floor as Marjorie and the other nurse explain that they locked the door to Suzette’s cell and aren’t sure how she was able to break free. A few more scolding comments from Dr. Morrow and the argument is over. He storms out of the room and Marjorie shouts commands at the orderlies, and they try to pull Suzette from the room. They start by gently tugging on her elbows and when she doesn’t budge they use more force and begin dragging her from the room by her heels.

I’ve worked up the courage to look at Suzette again and it’s like she knows my eyes are on her. She twists her head in my direction, her toffee eye burns through my skin, and then she lets out an insane cackle. She doesn’t bother thrashing, trying to free herself. I’m not even sure if she can. The sound of her cackling fills my ears and infects my mind as the orderlies yank her from the room and drag her down the hall.

Obviously, her appearance wasn’t planned by the staff. That was evident by the look on Marjorie’s face when she first saw her. And it was evident by Dr. Morrow’s accusing questions.

The look on Suzette’s face before she was dragged out of the room flashes through my mind and I shudder. It’s like with that final look she was giving me a warning. It’s like she was saying; Get out while you can.

Chapter 18

~AFTER~

At dinner I can’t find my appetite.

Today, they served macaroni and cheese which just so happens to be my favorite and the most appetizing thing they serve here. And even though my stomach is howling with hunger and my mouth is salivating just thinking about a mouthful of cheesy delight, I can’t seem to bring myself to eat. I even try a few times, bringing a few spoonfuls of elbow macaroni smothered in cheese to my lips. Then I see Suzette, unwashed hair, white eye patch, haunted look, and crazy cackle. I tilt my spoon to the side and all the macaroni falls onto my orange dinner tray.

I push around the noodles on my tray with my fork as Aurora sits down next to me. She’s toned it down on the crazy act for today, but occasionally when someone looks in our direction, she’ll dig her fingers into the cheesy slop on her tray and then writes on the table in macaroni and cheese ink. She keeps her head low, writing the word escape over and over and over again. Then she’ll wipe the words away with her napkin, repeating the process. She scoots closer to me, lowers her voice and says, “How fucked was that?”

I can’t even find words. I continue pushing my food around on my tray.

Aurora goes on. “I thought she was dead.”

At that comment I find my voice. “Me too.”

“I’ve seen a lot of crazy people come into this place, but I’ve never seen anything like that.” Aurora picks up a piece of macaroni with her thumb and forefinger, pops it into her mouth, sucks all the cheese off, then spits it out with force and I watch as it sails through the air before landing in someone’s hair.

“Where do you think they were keeping her?” I ask.

Aurora shrugs. “Maybe the basement.”

I peek up at her through my hair. “You think?”

“Like I said a second ago, maybe.”

I tsk, “Well you’ve been down there before. Don’t you remember seeing anything? Didn’t you see other people?”

Aurora stiffens in her spot and pushes her tray away. “I already told you, “she snaps. “I don’t like talking about it!”

I know she’s already mentioned that she doesn’t like talking about her trip to the basement, but what I want her to understand is that even the tiniest sliver of information she’d be willing to give could be useful. Helpful. “I know and I’m sorry for bringing it up,” I mention. “It’s just that…”

She cuts me off with a fierce look and a growl, “Leave it alone.”

“Aurora I—I’m—”

Her temper flares and she screams, “Drop it!”

My mouth hangs open. I was dropping it. I was trying to apologize for bringing up such a painful subject to her in the first place. The entire cafeteria is silent and all eyes are on us. Pink flushes my cheeks and I turn my head away, embarrassed. Peeking over at Aurora, I open my mouth to try and apologize a second time, but the words get stuck in my voice box. I mumble incoherently and Aurora pushes her tray onto the floor, gets up from the table, and stomps off before I can verbalize anything.

I know it’s my own damn fault for pissing her off. God knows I have a list just as long as she does about the subjects I never want to talk about. But the thing is, if any of my painful past held a piece of information that could be of help to

someone else, I’d talk. Or at least I like to think so.