Tortured Teardrops

by P. D. Workman

  “We can talk if you want,” Brinkley said. “Alyssa isn’t anyone’s boss.”

  Tamara took a glance in the direction of the other girl. “Alyssa…?”

  “I don’t remember more than that.”

  Alyssa didn’t jump in with her last name. Tamara watched her covertly under half-closed lids. Alyssa might have fallen asleep watching the TV. She wasn’t moving and paid no attention to the conversation, even though she had told Brinkley to shut up.

  Tamara swallowed and nodded. Brinkley seemed happy to chat, so she continued. “How long have you been here?”

  “Here in juvie or in Forensic?”

  “Either. Both.”

  “In juvie… a year and a half, I guess. Forensic… six months… eight… maybe half… I kind of lose track of time.”

  Tamara nodded. Things varied little one day to the next in juvie; it was easy for the days to run together and to lose track of how long she had been drifting along. Until something happened to remind her just how long it had been.

  “I’m not crazy or stupid,” Alyssa said suddenly, “or deaf. Don’t talk about me.”

  “No one’s talking about you, fruit loop,” Brinkley shot back. “Pay attention.”

  “Don’t call me names,” Alyssa’s voice took on a petulant whine. “I’m not calling you anything.”

  Tamara waited. Neither of them moved from their seats. It was like they were glued in place. Tamara was regretting the decision to sit so close to the two of them. It would have made more sense to put space between her and them. A distant point on the triangle, instead of the three of them in a line. But if she got up at that point, they would both be alerted to the fact that she was worried about them and avoiding confrontation.

  “Alyssa is just bipolar,” Brinkley said. “She’s not here all the time. Usually she’s in General, but she ends up back here when she destabilizes.” She shot a look toward Alyssa, making sure that Alyssa knew that Brinkley was talking about her, was explaining to Tamara just how crazy she was.

  “Who decides? I mean, when someone should be in Forensic instead of General?”

  “There’s a whole process. Takes a couple weeks to a few months to get all of the approvals from everyone and get someone moved. Sometimes there are emergency transfers, where they rush things through,” Brinkley looked briefly at Tamara, then away again, “but usually they don’t hurry through anything. They don’t like having to transfer inmates back and forth too much.”

  Tamara tried to analyze that brief look. Did Brinkley mean Tamara had been an emergency transfer? She guessed she probably was, that they had made the decision while she was at the courthouse or sitting on the bus waiting to go back to her room. The guards complained that they couldn’t handle her, or the courthouse threatened to make a complaint to the police. Something had made them decide she wasn’t safe to go back to her room, even for one night.

  “Sutherland’s been trying to get me to take meds for a while,” she said. “I guess… this was the only way to force me.”

  “Yeah.” Brinkley nodded, eyes fastened on the TV. “Probably.”

  “Where is everybody?”

  “Sleeping, mostly. People like to nap after breakfast. And lunch. Matter of fact, that’s probably how most of them spend their days. Eating and napping.”

  “And therapy,” Alyssa chimed in.

  “Ugh.” Brinkley wrinkled her nose. “Yes. Spend half our lives going to therapy.”

  “Private therapy. Group therapy. Play therapy. Occupational therapy.”

  Tamara yawned. The talk of naps and sitting in the warm room with the TV going and no obvious threats was making her tired. The thought of going to therapy, having to talk to Dr. Sutherland, to talk in front of a group of inmates, or to do stupid, meaningless crafts or chores seemed insurmountable. She didn’t have the energy for any of it.

  “It’s so dry in here,” Tamara complained. “I’m dying of thirst.”

  “It’s the meds. Go to the nurses. They’ll give you water.”

  Tamara thought about getting up to go back to the reception area or lobby, the nursing station she had seen the night before. But it was so far away, and she didn’t really have the energy to get up and track someone down.

  “What about the guard?” she suggested. “Can’t they get water?”

  Brinkley raised her eyebrows.

  “Hey, Bruno,” Tamara called to the guard who was watching the TV with them. “How about some drinks?”

  After a minute, he seemed to realize she was addressing him, and turned his gaze to her.

  “What did you say?”

  “Drinks. Water. You could get me water, couldn’t you? All of us. We all want water, right?”

  Brinkley and Alyssa didn’t seem impressed by Tamara’s brilliant suggestion.

  “You want a drink, you go talk to a nurse,” the guard said.

  Tamara rolled her eyes. “Come on,” she wheedled. “You’re just sitting there doing nothing. You’re being paid to watch us. Why not get us a drink?”

  He stared at her. “What’s your name?”

  “French.”

  “Well, French, I’m not your babysitter or your nursemaid. If you’re going to cause trouble, I’ll get you confined to quarters. How about that?”

  That didn’t sound like where Tamara wanted to end up. The little common room with TV and no competition for seats or threat of gang riot was quite attractive. She didn’t feel like sitting in her room with nothing to do, not even a book to read. Like the other inmates, she’d have to just nap her time away. She yawned again, the skin at the corners of her mouth cracking.

  “I just wanted a drink,” she muttered.

  “I should have known you were going to be trouble.” The guard pulled out a notepad and wrote something down.

  Tamara looked at Brinkley, raising her eyebrows. Brinkley turned away, pretending not to have seen. It was bad, then, the guard writing down her name, and whatever other details he needed to make an incident report on her.

  “Why don’t you either get back to your room or go find that nurse?” the guard suggested, moving away from the couch and taking a couple of steps toward Tamara.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll just watch TV.”

  “I don’t think so,” he disagreed. “You need to leave now.”

  If she’d been feeling more like herself, she would have just gotten up and gone out. There was no point in arguing with the guards and getting on their bad side. But Tamara was feeling heavy and tired and really didn’t want to move from her spot.

  “I’ll behave. I’m sorry. I won’t talk to you.”

  “How about you just get back to your room?”

  “No.”

  Telling him ‘no’ was all it seemed to take. She was being insubordinate. Not just difficult, but defiant, and he was perfectly justified in taking action against her. He took a couple more steps to close in on her and grabbed her arm.

  “Let’s go.”

  Tamara stayed limp in the chair. She knew how difficult it was to manage a dead weight, even a small girl like she was, and she didn’t have the energy she needed to get back to her cell. If he were going to force the issue, he was going to have to make good on his threats.

  He yanked again. Tamara still refused to get up and go under her own power. The guard was either going to have to decide it wasn’t worth it and give up, or pick her up and take her against her will. His name, according to his name bar, was Burgess.

  The guard wasn’t afraid to get physical. He braced himself and jerked up on both of her arms, dragging her to her feet. Tamara didn’t try to stand or walk. She didn’t resist him, but she didn’t cooperate, either. Burgess muttered under his breath and pulled one of her arms around his neck, squeezed her against his side, and walked her out of the room.

  It probably would have been easier for him to pick her up like a child or throw her over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, but he didn’t do either one, giving the illusion that he was helping he
r along, that she was moving under her own power and he was just providing the support she needed to get there. It would have been funny, if his taser and pepper spray hadn’t been digging painfully into Tamara’s side. It would almost be worth it to go with him under her own power. If she had the energy to do it.

  One of the nurses was on the prowl when they got closer to Tamara’s room.

  “Is everything all right? What happened?”

  “Nothing happened. She was being disruptive, so I’m taking her back to her room.”

  The nurse seemed very professional. “Disruptive? Let’s have a look, she doesn’t seem to be combative…”

  “No, just… an irritant.”

  “Why don’t you let her walk on her own? Let me see how she is.”

  He attempted to set Tamara on her feet and let her go, but Tamara still didn’t feel like cooperating. Her knees bent and her legs flopped and there was no way for him to put her on her feet if she didn’t straighten her legs and take her weight.

  “She’s just putting it on,” the guard said.

  “I don’t know about that,” the nurse said, looking at Tamara and her floppy spaghetti limbs. “I’d like to have a look at her in her room, if you’d finish taking her there.”

  He rolled his eyes and grumbled something under his breath that the nurse couldn’t hear but that Tamara, her ear against his chest, could hear clearly. It wasn’t very complimentary. She let Burgess continue to drag her along, feet trailing on the floor, face pressed against him, stomach against his equipment. It wasn’t much farther to her room. He dumped her on the bed. Tamara’s teeth clacked together and she bit her tongue. She didn’t complain, but sucked on it, tasting blood and wishing she’d been more prepared.

  The guard moved out of the way and the nurse moved in. “It’s her first day on meds. She could be experiencing some side effects. How was she behaving? What was she doing?”

  Burgess was, at that point, wanting badly to get out of the room. He didn’t want to make a report and he didn’t want to explain what had gotten him riled up so quickly.

  “Nothing. She was just being mouthy. Wouldn’t shut up when she was told to. Wouldn’t come back to her room. So… I brought her back.”

  The nurse looked at Tamara’s eyes and touched her face. “How are you feeling, dear?” she finally addressed Tamara directly.

  “Just thirsty,” Tamara said. “And… so tired.”

  “That’s not unusual.” She put her hand in Tamara’s. “Can you squeeze for me?”

  Tamara gave a weak squeeze. She remembered how Dr. Sutherland had told her that the medications wouldn’t make her into a zombie. They wouldn’t affect her physically. That had obviously been a crock. If Tamara had still been in the General Population, she would have been beaten up and left for dead in some isolated corner. There would have been no way for her to defend herself in the tired, weakened state she found herself in.

  “And can you stand up for me? Just walk across the room?”

  Tamara could barely contemplate the amount of effort that would take. “Too tired.”

  “Might have to dial back her dosage,” the nurse said, to no one in particular. Tamara wondered whether she had always talked to herself or whether she had picked up the habit on the job, listening to inmates talking to their imaginations all day long. “All right,” she told Burgess. “Thank you for bringing her back. I’ll look after her. You want some water, Tamara?”

  Tamara tried a nod, but that took too much effort. She blinked instead. “Yeah. Please.”

  Her mouth felt as dry as it had that day in court, dehydrated, trying to work up the will to testify against Mr. Baker. She had hardly been able to unstick her tongue from the inside of her mouth to form the words. It was like a nightmare that kept repeating and wouldn’t go away.

  “I can’t,” she said, trying to explain why she couldn’t testify against Mr. Baker. “I’m just too tired.”

  “Yes, I’ll get it for you. You just stay here,” the nurse agreed.

  Tamara was too exhausted to explain any further. The nurse would get her a drink, and then she’d get to sleep for a little bit. Just a nap to clear her head and get a bit of energy back again.

  She had been asleep by the time the nurse got back with a drink of water. The nurses had woken her several times throughout the day to talk to her, give her more water, and try to persuade her to get up and do something.

  It took several of these wake-up calls before Tamara was able to prop herself slightly on one elbow to show that she was awake and could move around. Then she fell back asleep. Eventually, she was able to sit up, though she still hadn’t the energy to even tackle her supper.

  She was partially awake when Brinkley stood in her doorway and knocked on the open door. Tamara thought it must be nearly lights-out. If she’d been in that condition in General, they would have had to lock her door to ensure no one bothered her.

  “Hi,” Tamara said.

  “You mind company?”

  “Come in.”

  Brinkley entered. She stood a couple of feet away from the bunk. “Feeling any better?”

  “I guess. Waking up, I mean. I don’t know about… anything else.”

  “They must have put you on a pretty heavy dose. They don’t usually start that high. That, or maybe you’re extra sensitive.”

  “Great.”

  “They’ll adjust it. Or try you on something different. They’re okay with it making you want to sleep. But not this,” Brinkley made a little gesture to indicate Tamara’s condition.

  Tamara drew in a long breath. Even that seemed to take too much energy. Her lids were still heavy and she wanted to close her eyes to go back to sleep.

  “What’ve they got you on?”

  Tamara tried to force her eyes wider. She shifted to sit up straighter, but ended up slumping farther down. “I don’t know. Not like they told me.”

  “You can ask. You got the right to know what they’re giving you. What did it look like?”

  Tamara concentrated and tried to remember the three pills that had been in the little cup that morning. It seemed like a long, long time ago and she wasn’t sure why it was important. She described them to Brinkley.

  The other girl nodded. “Shoulda known.”

  Tamara forced her eyes open at Brinkley’s tone. “What?”

  “Experimental protocol. They’ve got you on the latest and greatest.”

  Tamara’s stomach tightened, uneasy. “What does that mean?”

  Brinkley took a step forward. She lowered her voice. “It means drug companies can’t always find good populations to test their drugs on. They gotta go through testing, and who wants to try out a brand new antipsychotic? Prisons are a good captive audience.” Brinkley laughed softly at her pun. “A place like this is gold, if you can get it. Uniform sex and age, under constant observation, similar backgrounds and history, controlled diet. It’s a pharmaceutical company’s dream.”

  Tamara tried to raise a little outrage over this idea, but her feelings were flat, and other than the stirrings of anxiety starting to bubble in her stomach, she couldn’t find it in herself to feel anything about this. The spark that had been so quick to light over the past months seemed to have gone out completely.

  “I didn’t agree to any experiments.”

  “Yeah,” Brinkley agreed. “Being a minor and all that. Our society has a long history of experimenting on convicts without their consent. They’ve got rules now that they have to give their consent, and pharm companies sweeten the deal by offering payment for participation. But minors and patients who can’t make decisions for themselves… they’re a different story.”

  Brinkley looked out into the hallway at the sound of distant footsteps, but they turned into another room. She looked back at Tamara. “Man, they’ve really got you dosed up. You must be super sensitive.”

  “Help me… sit up.”

  Tamara was already in a sitting position, leaning back against her pillow and th
e wall, but she was slumping and sliding and couldn’t raise the energy to push herself up again. Brinkley glanced at the door again, then moved in close. She slid her hands into Tamara’s armpits, and tried to lift her up, while encouraging Tamara to put some effort into it as well.

  “Come on, help me out here! You’re a little thing, but you’re no featherweight!”

  Tamara tried to straighten up. There was the noise of approaching feet again. Hard-soled shoes slapping against tile; a couple of guards rather than a nurse. Brinkley gave Tamara another heave and turned her head to look into the hallway just as the guards arrived.

  “Get back from her, Brinkley!”

  “I’m just helping her out!” Brinkley protested, stepping back and putting her hands up to her shoulder to show compliance.

  “She doesn’t need your kind of help!” One of them took two long strides into the room and grabbed Brinkley by the upper arm, jerking her still farther away. He swung her around and shoved her toward his partner in the doorway. Rather than just sending her on her way or putting a pair of handcuffs on her, the second guard threw her to the floor.

  Tamara heard Brinkley grunt and swear as she hit the tiles, and then she was out of Tamara’s line of sight. It was too difficult to move to see any more. Tamara looked at the guard who had entered her room.

  “You okay?” he asked her.

  “Yeah. She wasn’t hurting me… just helping me try to…” Tamara lost her train of thought, unable to concentrate on her words and what had happened and what was happening with Brinkley in the hallway with the other guard.

  “That one switches from sweet and helpful to violent delusions in an instant. Don’t put yourself too close to her, if you want my advice.”