I
She wonders how she got there, and desperately tries to figure out
the events that lead her to where she was standing just now. In what particular
moment of her life did she took the wrong turn? Or, was this always what was
planned for her?
She cannot possibly believe in that… She always thought that big
things where planned for her… Big things… Not this… Not this misery…
She looked around. The room was miniscule. A tiny metal single bed
on the right hand side corner, a little desk and a broken chair on the left, a small
window on the centre, and yet all of it was so close together that she felt
claustrophobic. The grey walls, that she was sure were once white, were packed
with cracks as if the room could disintegrate at any second. The window, protected
with two metal bars covered by rust, allowed a partial view to another lifeless
grey building; but surprisingly did not allow for the sun to come in. Maybe the
sun was facing north, or south, whichever, as she could not tell which direction
the room was facing. All she knew was that it was almost impossible to
distinguish between night and day in this cubicle.
The door to the room lead straight to the bed so to make it easier
for the warden to check on her. A quick look through the small square glass
opening on the door was sufficient to see what she was up to. Anyway, you could
actually check the entire room with just a glance through that bullet proof
piece of glass.
Outside there was a long corridor with at least 9 other doors;
five on each side. Hers was at the very end of the corridor as if to increase
the distance to the communal area, that she wasn’t even allowed to go into.
It meant that nine other women were imprisoned in that filthy
place. Nine other women got off their track too. Nine other, and yet she was
the only one branded as a menace.
She remembered the words of the so called doctor: “A menace to the
other women… She is not to be allowed near them by any chance. Bad things can
happen…”
The doctor was young. What did she know? She was probably in her
thirties. Just out of university, she would have guessed. She was about 5 feet tall,
had short hair, round face, round big brown eyes, even round mouth. Everything
about her was round. She weighed way above the average weight for her height,
and had round and short fingers, with short fingernails. Round, short, concise.
She looked like the Humpty Dumpty. Round and stupid this lady was. She was definitely
not popular at school, and was so miserable herself and needed to be fed by
others misery. Carol Prunny her name was. What kind of name was that? A joke…
That is what she was… a big, round joke.
Carol feared her. She knew it. It was so obvious on their
sessions. She never made eye contact with her, her voice trembled on each
sentence and her hands shacked when writing notes on her chunky notepad. What
could she do to her, when her hands and feet were restrained by these tight
handcuffs and chains? What could she do to her, when there were two big wardens
guarding them both?
What has she done in the past that was so bad, so terrible that
she was locked up like an animal, deprived of human contact, deprived of the
minimal human rights?
One thing she was sure of... She had to remember what happened. She
struggled so hard to remember several times, that she feared she would have a
brain hemorrhage just by forcing her brain to remember. She needed to know. She
was sure she wasn’t capable of any atrocity. Not possible… She would never do
something that terrible. Not her… Not Linda. Linda would never hurt anyone. It
was impossible as she wouldn’t even hurt a fly. And yet there she was, feared
by all. She lost track of how long it passed since she was in that horrible
place. She knew it had been for a long time, as her skin was pale and pasty and
she was a shadow of the woman she used to be… This place was consuming her, she
was dying slowly and she knew she would die there.
She wished death would come sooner than later. But not before she
remembered…She needed to remember.
She tried so many times but now it is different. Since that letter
arrived, things have changed. Now there were facts. Facts refused to be given
by Carol maybe because she was too afraid to speak them out loud. Facts that
opened a window on her brain that made things so much clear and yet scary. It was
obvious that the contents of the letter were not true because Linda would never
do something bad. Someone else was to be blamed.
How can you remember something without forcing it to your head?
Let it flow… She would start from the beginning, from what she knew was for
sure. Things would come naturally, and she would hit that place and get to the
point in time that was a blank on her head and the new facts would allow her to
remember.
She laid on the bed. Closed her eyes. Started to count to one
hundred. One… Two… Three. Relaxed her muscles, and focused on her breathing.
Slow, deep breaths…
Ninety nine… One Hundred…
