by A. R. Braun
Kevin sighed. “Bullshit.”
The picture changed to Marie’s lawyer, Dustin Gerstowitz.
“My client was a hardworking insurance-company owner all her life and never knew a thing about her monstrous husband’s dungeon next door. Dick Alley duped her like he duped us all. To have such a decent, hard-working citizen on trial is a travesty of justice.”
Kevin laughed. “Oh, give it a rest, asshole. She knew.”
The children’s banging noises started again, sounding as if the Bulls were involved in a game in his son’s room.
Kevin slammed the pipe in the tray. He clomped over to the bottom of the stairs. “That’s it! Neither of you are getting any supper!”
Dirk and Carrie made an appearance at the top of the stairs, Dirk with his arms folded, Carrie with her hands on her hips. Both kids frowned.
“Aw Dad,” Dirk cried. “I was tryin to keep it down.”
Kevin thrust his right index finger toward him. “Bullshit! Get your asses in your rooms! You’re both grounded.”
Carrie sighed as she walked away. “Bogus.”
Dirk followed her, stomping.
“Don’t you say ‘bogus’ to me, young lady,” Kevin cried.
As he hobbled back over to the couch, Darlene flew through the door. “Kevin, why in the world are you yelling?”
“Damn kids are worthless, that’s why.”
Darlene furrowed her brow and crossed her arms. “Don’t you say that about our children!”
Kevin rose, he knees popping in protest. “You know what? I’ll say whatever in the hell I want. I’ll punish the kids, call Dirk a fatty moron, and say Carrie’s headed for nerd patrol if I feel like it. This is my goddamn house, so don’t tell me what to do.”
Darlene gaped and fear took over her wide eyes. “I don’t know what’s come over you lately, Kevin Browning, but I don’t like it.”
He laughed. A sardonic laugh it was, too. “I’ll tell you what’s come over me lately, Darlene Rutman: I want a divorce.”
He eyes grew wide. “What?!”
“You heard me.” Kevin plopped back onto the couch, his back screaming in protest. “I’m going to see my lawyer about it tomorrow.”
Darlene wept, though he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of looking her way.
“Why?” she screamed. “We’ve been happily married for thirteen years. All of the sudden? There are kids to think of!”
“Get out clean while you can,” Kevin answered.
She stomped over and stuck her face in his. “Why, you goddamned, fucking bastard?”
Kevin hardened his face. “Because I don’t love you. You’re not my high school sweetheart, and it’s not normal. You’re a goddamn nag, your kids are stupid, and you’re a dead lay. Satisfied?” It broke his heart to say these things to his wife, but he felt it expedient.
Better for her that she quit loving me right now, than to—
Darlene cracked him one across the cheek. Kevin touched his hand to his wounded flesh, knowing it was red. He rolled his tongue around in there and winced from the pain. Kevin looked her over, endeavoring to shoot her a glance that killed. Darlene had her hand over her mouth, eyes wide. She blanched and looked as if she’d drop dead from a stroke.
Kevin tapped the contents of his pipe out. He chucked it at the wall as hard as he could. It bonked and broke in half, one piece landing on the mantel of the fireplace, and the other on the carpet. He was tempted to smack her face.
No, I don’t want to be like Stacey’s foster dad.
He rose. “I don’t need this shit. I’m getting a hotel room.” Still wearing his bailiff uniform, he stormed toward the door.
“You leave right now, don’t you come back, you lousy excuse for a father and a man! You hear me? I’ll take you for everything you’ve got! I’ll get the house, plus alimony.”
Kevin stopped after yanking the door open, the cold winter air rushing in at him. He turned around. “Go ahead. I’ve got nothing.”
With that, he slammed the door and headed out of the comforts of home.
<^^>
Stacey’s life was a vampire.
If her kids weren’t sucking the life out of her, her past abuse was. Now her oldest daughter lay in a coma, and Stacey felt trapped in the quiet room, cooped up in this hospital, not able to go outside because of the press horde.
But the medication was starting to work.
The doctor had put her on 800 milligrams of Seroquel and two milligrams of Ativan a day. The orderlies had accompanied the nurse into the quiet room to give her the medicine every morning and night for three days. She quit seeing the imaginary bugs.
Now, she felt more out of it than anything. Stacey had spent the first two days pacing and bouncing off the walls, her mind feeling as if it burned with fire or squirmed with insects.
On this fourth morning, Stacey woke feeling almost catatonic and accepted her grim fate, though she felt like a zombie.
Keys jumbled and clanked in the lock. Stacey looked at the ceiling—just two huge fluorescent lights—and felt as if she saw god’s glory through the haze, though He hadn’t saved her from this, the worst of nervous breakdowns. The artificial light hurt her eyes and she squinted.
Stacey longed to get out of there.
They’d brought her meal trays in and fed her, and she’d devoured them. The medication left her cotton-mouthed, desiring a drink all the time. She constantly banged her fist on the door, requesting water; god, how her hand ached.
Amanda walked in, her two cohorts, Wesley and Zander, behind her. She attempted to give Stacey a smile, though it looked contrived. Her eyes seemed afraid.
“Stacey?” Amanda asked. “Are you feeling better?”
“Y-Yeth.” The cotton-mouth had gotten the best of her. Rarely had the nurses given in to her constant banging and given her water. “C-Can I please haff a drink?”
Amanda craned her head. “Go get her some water from the drinking fountain or milk from the in-house lunch room, huh?”
“Yes, Mrs. Forrester,” Wesley answered.
He came back about a minute later with two small cartons of milk, handing them to Amanda. She crouched down and held them up to Stacey’s mouth.
She drank greedily. Stacey drained the first and second carton, unable to wipe her mouth, though she dribbled. “Thanks.”
Amanda looked her in the eyes. “I apologize for having to do this, but you were suicidal.”
Stacey sat sprawled out in a corner of the quiet room. “I’m ready to get out of here.”
“You don’t feel like you want to kill yourself? Jump out of a window? Cut your wrists?”
“No, but I feel like I’m going to have a heart attack from all this medicine.” Stacey had to blink hard a couple of times to avoid double-vision. The meds had her so weighed down, she wondered if she could stand. Since being on them, she’d slept most of the time, because they put her right to sleep, both in the morning and at night.
Amanda put a curled finger over her mouth while she rested her chin in her hand. “Hmm. Well, 800 milligrams is the recommended dose, but you’re so thin, you don’t have anywhere for it to go, I suppose. I could ask the doctor to try 400.”
Stacey nodded.
The orderly came back with a can of Coca-Cola. Apparently, he’d shuffled his feet to the commissary and back. He held to Stacey’s mouth this time. “This’ll wet your whistle.”
Stacey gulped it down. She noticed she’d spilled some on her straightjacket.
Isn’t that just too goddamned bad.
Amanda smiled a true smile now—it was in her eyes. “Told ya the medicine would make you feel better. Let’s get your coat off.”
Stacey sighed with relief when the orderlies undid the jacket. Underneath, she’d sweated like a dog for the past few days. As they pulled the jacket off gingerly, she gasped with relief. She’d laved her shirt with sweat and it clung to her skin. The orderlies wrinkled their noses. Her arms had fallen asleep, and pins and needl
es of pain shot through her as Stacey rubbed them with her hands. Now she felt cold. She wiped her hands on her pants and shivered in the cool space.
Amanda extended her hand. “Can you stand?”
Stacey nodded and took her hand, wanting to exit the quiet room in the worst way. Amanda helped her up. When on her feet, Stacey felt lightheaded. She swayed a bit.
“Can you walk?” Amanda asked.
Stacey breathed hard a few times. She nodded. “Are you taking me back to my room?”
“Wherever you feel comfortable, that’s where I’ll take you, since you’re feeling better.”
“Careful,” Stacey answered, turning her head to look Amanda in the eye. “You’re turning me on. I might just invite you to my room. I don’t have a roommate right now, you know.”
Chuckling, Amanda withdrew her hand. “Glad you’ve got a sense of humor. For a while, I thought you’d slipped through the cracks.”
“Who’s joking?”
The orderlies appeared at Stacey’s side.
Amanda stepped farther out in front, like an insane procession. “Follow me. We’ll start by taking you back to your room.” She walked toward the door.
Stacey tried to follow, but the medicine had her feeling more lightheaded than she thought. She saw little white dots in front of her face and started to fall. The orderlies caught her.
“Whoa now,” Zander said. “Easy.”
Amanda wheeled on her. “Stacey? If you can’t walk, just say so.”
Stacey gave her a look that, if it could’ve killed… “I’m fine. I just need some help.”
With a man on each arm, Stacey hobbled out of the quiet room. It took all her strength just to do that. They stopped and Zander locked the door. Then they proceeded. It was the longest walk she’d ever taken as she struggled through the corridors.
By the time they reached the hallway of her ward, they were dragging her on scraping feet.
“Try to walk, now,” Zander said.
Stacey lifted a lazy head and looked up at him through double vision. “Can I just rest? Please put me down.”
They obliged, helping her sit on one of the brown couches in the living room space. She just now noticed the sounds of people talking, groaning, and freaking out. They said strange things, like “I’m sick,” or “I’ll kill you.” An overweight lady yelled “You’re not my boss” at a nurse.
Amanda’s heels clacked on the tile floor until she stood looking at Stacey. “I just explained your situation to the doctor and asked her to give you 400 milligrams of Seroquel. She agreed, so you should feel better soon. Ready to go to your room?”
Stacey shook her head, listening as a thundershower pelted the windows. “Can I just sit here for a while?”
“Sure.” Amanda sat by her, looking at the hands folded in her lap.
Stacey lazily moved her head toward her. “The press still outside?”
Amanda nodded. “Damn vultures.”
“How’s Therese?”
“The same. I told your kids they could go to the church service here at the hospital’s chapel for a prayer vigil. You’ll love Chaplain Peterson. Lawrence is a lovely man.”
“Can I come?”
“You’d better. We need to pray that girl of yours back to health.”
Stacey nodded, then looked away.
“Still having violent thoughts about your daughters?” Amanda added. “Or would you like to see them?”
Stacey turned to look at her, their noses barely apart. “No, but I’m having sexual thoughts about you.”
Amanda giggled and looked at the floor. “Well, I hope I was good.”
“You’ll do.”
Amanda rose, crossing her arms. She looked intently at her. “I’m glad to see the medicine’s helping with those violent thoughts about your kids. I’ve got to go see some other patients. Let’s get you to your room.”
“Can I please stay here?”
Oh my god, when she finds out I can’t walk…
“You can stay there until lunch, okay?”
Stacey nodded.
“Somber.” Amanda looked as if she was inspecting every nook and cranny of her face.
Stacey turned away.
“Be back in a jiff.” With that, Amanda left.
Stacey stared into space.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
When it was time for lunch, Zander and the auxiliary nurse made Stacey walk on her own to the small, in-house cafeteria.
That was her undoing.
Stacey crashed onto the floor, barely sticking her hands out in time to break her fall. Now the little white dots were a snowstorm.
“Get her to the quiet room,” the head nurse barked—a scrawny, middle-aged blond woman.
Stacey grabbed her hair and grunted. “NO, I JUST GOT OUT OF THERE! DON’T PUT ME IN THE QUIET ROOM AGAIN!”
They hauled her up and dragged her there anyway.
“Give me another chance,” Stacey cried. “I wasn’t ready! I can walk, I swear! Oh-ho-ho-no.”
As they slammed and locked the door on her, she thought this is my new dungeon, no better than the one Dick had me in, and I’ll never get out of here.
<^^>
Stacey woke up in the quiet room, sprawled out on the green, padded floor. She felt a little better. Stacey yawned and sat up. She noticed she only had to take two horse pills of Seroquel now, along with her earlier dose of Ativan. My god, I don’t even know what time it is. Because she’d tried to cut her wrists with her arrowhead necklace, they’d taken her woman’s watch. I guess they thought I’d try to kill myself with the metal binder.
She gasped. What if it’s the middle of the night and I have to stay awake in here, all alone, until morning?
Stacey became frightened. At least they didn’t put me in that straightjacket. Her eyes strained a bit from the fluorescent lights above her, a tad strong for in here. They reflected off the white, padded walls in a blinding manner, making it seem like some kind of perverse heaven. Stacey and her children had felt they were past the stage where they needed to wear sunglasses indoors, but now Stacey wondered.
She tried to stand and found she could, than paced calmly, unlike what she’d done before.
At least I’m not having a panic attack.
Stacey turned and saw Amanda’s face at the small window in the door.
Keys rattled in the lock. Amanda walked in. She looked her over with a frown.
Stacey took a couple of steps toward her. “Amanda, they—”
“I know,” Amanda said. “They shouldn’t have put you in here. If it’s any consolation, the head nurse has been reprimanded. I got the doctor to lower your dose to 200 milligrams, although you should probably be on 400. It’s just until you get used to it, then she may pump you up to 300 or 400.”
Stacey put a hand to her chest, knowing she’d just escaped a heart attack. “Oh, thank god.”
Amanda held her clipboard over her crotch with both hands. “I’m so sorry about this.”
Stacey rubbed her eyes. “What time is it?”
“Well, you’re sure not having any trouble sleeping. It’s morning.”
Stacey felt a pinprick of shock. “The next day?”
“Fraid so.” Amanda motioned toward the door with her head. “Come on.”
“Oh god, thank you.” Stacey followed her.
Amanda watched her as she strode out the door. “Hmm. No trouble walking, I see. Are you having bad thoughts about your daughters again, or are you still okay with that?”
Stacey felt a little anger and resentment that she’d bring that up. “No, still fine with that.”
“Great!” Amanda locked the quiet room. “I bet you’re starving.”
The long walk from hell ensued, but Stacey didn’t mind it as much now. They made their way into the main area of the ward; the sounds of people yelling, weeping, and talking filled her ears, as well as the news on the TV.
Stacey touched her stomach. “I really haven’t thought too much
about food lately.” Her stomach rumbled. “But since I’m okay to come out…”
They came to the area with the brown couches. A couple of retarded-acting adults—one short-haired, thin man and a heavyset woman—were making fart jokes and pushing on each other’s stomachs, then saying “Hmm-hmm!” like the Pillsbury Doughboy.
Amanda smiled at Stacey. “Since you’re walking so well, you can go to the cafeteria. Your children are there.”
Stacey smiled. “Oh, thank you. Thanks so much.”
“You didn’t eat at all yesterday. Feel free to have seconds and thirds if you like. And since you’re feeling so much better, I figured we’d start your rape counseling today, if it’s all right with you.”
Stacey nodded. Again, she flinched at the overhead fluorescents, flooding the ward with harsh white light.
Amanda followed her eyes to the lights, then back to her. “The lights still bothering your eyes? I thought you said you didn’t need the sunglasses anymore.”
“Yes, I do, little bit.”
I can decrease it in your room if you want, give you lower wattage light bulbs.”
“That would be great.” Oh my god. My poor, poor Therese. “Is my daughter still in a… a coma?”
“I’m afraid so. I’d like to let you and the kids visit her, but the press is still a mob out there. I’m afraid we’ll have to wait till that dissipates first.”
Stacey suddenly felt sad and looked at the floor.
Amanda took a step toward her. “Honey, it’s going to be all right. We’ll keep her in our prayers, and we mustn’t believe that our requests are in vain. Otherwise, why make them? Okay?”
Stacey locked eyes with her. God, this was a robust woman. Stacey couldn’t help feeling turned-on. Her libido itched, and she thought about being alone with Amanda. Stacey wished for sex therapy.
Good god, how can I think about sex while my daughter lies in a coma? What’s wrong with me?
“You’re right,” Stacey answered. “We must believe she’ll be fine. Did I tell you god got me out of that dungeon?”
“Yes,” Amanda answered, “you mentioned it briefly.”
“My daughters watched a religious show and begged me to pray with them. I did. Before long, the investigator and the police were opening the door.”