by B L Teschner
I put my other hand on the table and he took it without a second thought. Squeezing his fingers tightly, I leaned forward and looked him straight in his scared eyes. “You, Connor Knight, are as strong as your name says you are. I have complete faith in you making it out of here.”
His lip quivered. “Okay.” I squeezed his hands one last time before letting them go. He stood up from the table. “Bye, Millie.”
“Bye, Connor.”
Before he turned to leave, he took one last look at Toby in his catatonic state. “Bye, Toby. Thanks for looking out for me while you could.”
I blinked back tears as Connor walked away, choosing not to look back at us. He went through the doors like he was on his way to the restroom, as if nothing detrimental was about to happen. I hoped more than anything that he would get out. If he did, he could expose this place for what it really was.
I scooted back to Toby and rested my hand against his cheek, leaning over and looking up at his blank face. “Did you hear that?” I asked, trying to smile through the tears. “Connor is going to get away. Isn’t that wonderful?”
The cafeteria doors opened, and for a moment I expected it to be Connor. But instead, it was Troy. His eyes were set on me as he came in my direction; I dropped my hand from Toby’s cheek and righted my posture. My time had come.
Troy stopped beside me and towered over my head, staring down at me. “It’s time.”
My chest tightened as I looked up at him. “Please, please don’t do this.”
“You’re intelligent enough to know that there’s no way out of this. Let’s just go get it over with.”
“No, no I won’t let you!” I scooted down the bench seat and tried to get away but he was already there waiting for me.
“Please don’t run.” He grabbed my arm and held it firmly in his large hand. “You seem like a nice girl; I don’t want to use the taser gun on you.”
I thrashed around, hitting him wildly with my fist as he dragged me away from the table. I looked back over my shoulder at Toby, his head still to his chest. “Toby!” I screamed. “Toby help me!” I glanced around the cafeteria to see the kids watching me. “Help me!” I begged them. But they did nothing but stare.
“Millie?” a girl called beside me as a hand came to rest on my arm.
My head snapped over to the familiar voice; I couldn’t believe my eyes. “Blue?”
“Yeah,” she smiled, looking at me as if I had lost my mind. “Why are you so upset?”
“Don’t you remember what they did to you?” I asked desperately. “Don’t you remember anything at all?”
Her eyebrows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“It’s time to go,” Troy said, pulling me along.
“Look at him in the wheelchair,” I ordered, pointing back to Toby.
She looked over at him and then back at me. “What are you talking about, Millie?”
It was no use; it was like the ones who had been changed couldn’t see the oddness of what was left of the others.
Troy pulled harder on my arm, tugging me toward the doors. “They changed him!” I screamed. “And they changed you! You just don’t see it!”
“They’ve been nothing but helpful to us,” she answered back. “It’s a wonderful program.”
Troy yanked me past the doors into the hall. I was trying my hardest to pull away when I heard Martha’s voice echo, “Stop!”
We both came to a halt as her heels clicked toward us. “She’s resisting,” Troy said, squeezing my arm so hard he was cutting off circulation.
“Let her go.”
“But—”
“I said let her go!” I stood frozen as Troy dropped my arm. “I don’t want to have to explain a handprint-sized bruise to her mother, do you?” Martha came up to me with her hands folded behind her back, her hair and makeup done in their usual way. Her lips curled up with a wicked smile. “Hello, Millie. I’m going to ask you to walk with me while we have a chat. Are you willing to do that for me without causing a fuss?”
I rubbed my arm where Troy’s hand had been. “Please, just let me go.”
“I’m sure you don’t want Troy to handle you any more severely than he already has.”
I heard Troy take out his taser gun and I whimpered at the thought of feeling its capabilities. As I sporadically pulled in breaths of air, I realized it was over for me; there was no escaping. I had to give up.
“Want me to use it on her?” Troy asked.
Martha eyed me in thought. “I don’t think it will be necessary. Come on,” she ordered, nodding her head up the hall. “And stop being so dramatic; you’ll hyperventilate.”
Working hard to control my breathing, I reluctantly followed beside her as Troy stayed right behind us. “Where are we going?” I asked.
“Oh, I’m sure you know exactly where we’re going.” As my sobs escalated, she reached a hand out from behind her back and rubbed my shoulder. “Now, now, don’t you cry. I promise you won’t remember any of it once you wake back up.”
“But what is the point of all of this?”
“What do you mean? We’re helping people; we’re helping you.”
“I don’t need help.”
She withdrew her hand and returned it behind her back. “Then why do you feel it’s necessary for you to steal?”
“That doesn’t make me a bad person.”
“On the contrary,” she said, after a tsk. She gazed out of the thick, glass windows as we slowly passed them. “You know Millie, you remind me of myself when I was a girl.”
Her confession made me shudder; I didn’t want to be anything like Martha Bane. “Did you steal too?” I asked.
“Oh, no, no. I was a good child.”
I bit my tongue to stifle a nasty comeback. “On the second day of the program,” I went on, “you came to me on the lawn and told me my mom spoke with you before she left. What did she speak to you about?”
She looked over at me, her eyebrow arching with intrigue. “Yes, I figured you’d ask me that eventually.” Her focus stayed on me as a thought danced around in her head. “Your mother was doubting her decision in sending you here. She said your issue with theft was unlike your character, that you were a smart, gentle young woman with a promising life ahead of you. She didn’t want you to be corrupted by the other patients here. I assured her you would be taken care of.”
I was surprised to hear that my mom had second thoughts about leaving me here. She was right about having them. “So why did you come talk to me that day?”
Her face relaxed and she looked ahead. “Contrary to what you probably believe, I care immensely about the patients in our program. I was just checking in on you, making sure you were handling everything fine on your own. And you have been. You’re a lot stronger than the others. Most of you are quite dreadful individuals and wastes of human beings.”
I stopped in my tracks and looked up at her in disbelief. “How can you say something so cruel?”
Her eyes narrowed with a mischievous smile. “That’s the beauty of this program, my dear. You will not have any recollection of what I have said once we’re done with you.” She took out a set of keys from the pocket of her blazer jacket and nodded beside us. I was so focused on our conversation that I didn’t even realize we had made it to her office. “After you,” she said after unlocking her door and pushing it open.
I swallowed the thickness of my saliva. “What are you going to do to me?”
“Go on ahead and I’ll explain.”
We went into her office and Troy closed the door behind us as she unlocked and opened the next one. I spotted the phone on the desk, and recalled the way Toby tried so hard to get an outside line. If only that had worked, then Toby wouldn’t be drooling in a wheelchair and I wouldn’t be next in line.
The blood was pounding in my ears and I was finding it excruciatingly hard to breathe. “Where are we going?” I asked, as if I didn’t already know.
“To the basement.”
&nb
sp; I couldn’t let her know that I had been down there before; I had to act surprised by it all. If she found out that I had taken a part in stealing the guard’s keys, then I was certain she would do much worse to me than what was already planned.
“I’ll go ahead of you and open the grate,” Troy said as he walked through the open door to the hallway.
“Grate?” I croaked. “What, what’s he talking about?”
“Come along, dear.” She motioned for me to go ahead. I stepped into the familiar hall and saw the closed doors of the doctor’s office as well as the surveillance room. “Up this way.” She pointed up the hall to where Troy was standing beside the open closet door. “This really is a revolutionary procedure you’re taking a part of, Millie. You should consider yourself quite lucky.”
“Lucky?” I barked. “I consider all of us who are involved in this program far from lucky. I don’t know how you haven’t been caught yet.”
She closed the hall door and pocketed her keys. “We’re very good at keeping an eye on things.”
My thoughts went to Connor as she led me up the hall. “Have any of your patients ever escaped?”
“They’ve certainly tried, but no. Years ago we used to keep ankle bracelets on everyone, but that seemed to cause more of a panic. We also had a problem with patients stealing things to try and remove them, so we decided to do away with them. And we have to make the grounds as welcoming as possible with no tall fencing looming around. We don’t want it to look like a prison. We’ve been using an alarm system that is stationed along the perimeter. It’s been sufficient. It alerts us to escapees as well as to any cars coming up the road, just in case a parent decides to drop by unexpectedly.”
I stopped walking. “And what do you do when that happens?”
“It’s happened a few times over the years, but it’s rare. You’d be surprised how many parents are willing to drop their kids off and forget about them, especially when they behave so badly. But, if they do stop by, then we remind them of the waiver they signed. They agreed to our terms, which states that we will sue them for interrupting a very critical program that would also involve other patients. That is usually enough to scare them away. Most of the time they call first anyway, since the majority of them are from out of state. We even allow them to speak to their child if they’ve already successfully completed their procedure. That phone call takes place in my office with a guard by their side, naturally. But even that happening is rare. We haven’t had a patient talk on the phone with a parent in years.” She held her hand out in front of us. “Now, enough chitchat. Troy is waiting.”
I looked up the hall to the open door. The carpet was already pulled back and the grate had been moved off to the side. “What’s beneath the grate?” I asked.
“The basement, remember? Now, on you go.”
I drew in a shaky breath and moved forward, one slow step at a time. Once I was in front of the grate I looked inside the dark hole and took in the sight of the ladder. I remembered the way it felt when my hands had gripped around its coldness; I remembered the way the warmth of Toby’s body came behind mine and cradled me with protection as he had helped me pull the grate closed above us.
“Don’t make me use any force,” Troy grumbled beside me.
I bit my lower lip. “Don’t worry; I won’t.” Sitting down at the edge of the hole, I grabbed onto the ladder and worked my way down to the concrete floor below. Martha and Troy followed, and I waited until they were standing beside me to ask, “How do you get the kids back up when they can’t even move?”
“Excellent question, Millie.” She looked over at Troy and clasped her hands together in front of her. “See, I told you she was one of the more intelligent ones, just like myself when I was her age.” Troy rolled his eyes as her focus went back to me. “It’s surprising how little I get asked questions when patients are taken down here.” She laughed. “They usually all just scream bloody murder and try to get away!”
The only reason I was asking questions was to stall. There was still a tiny part of myself that hoped the police would come and rescue us before the rest of us were changed.
“You probably didn’t notice it,” Martha went on, “but there was a square metal shaft beside the opening of the grate. We slide a very strong hoist attachment into that and use it to pull the patients up. It has a winch and pulley system that can lift up to four hundred pounds. We simply harness the patient in and up they go! It’s quite brilliant, actually.”
“More like a pain in the butt,” Troy put in.
She looked annoyed at his comment. “Well, it’s the only way.” Her arm stretched out in front of her. “After you,” she said.
I swallowed hard and walked in the direction she was pointing. “What are in all these rooms?” I asked.
“Storage, mostly.”
“What do you store in them?”
“Children, mostly,” she joked. “We keep lots of things down here: old furniture, patients’ belongings, newspaper articles, antique textbooks and medical supplies… And I just can’t bring myself to rearrange or clean anything. Well, besides the procedure room, of course. That has to be sterile. But these halls; these rooms… Walking them right now in the condition they are in just takes me back in time. There’s a certain mood about it that you can’t replicate anymore. Isn’t it delightful?”
I looked down at the dirty floor as we walked. “What’s the point in keeping it all? Especially the patients’ stuff?”
“Why, it’s a part of our history. Good or bad, this hospital has antiquity about it that we shouldn’t forget. It’s the things from the past that made us the wonderful institution we are today. And I’m also very sentimental.”
Institution is right; mental is right, I thought as we rounded the corner to the hall where they kept the teens locked in the dimly-lit rooms. A girl was banging on one of the doors, screaming for help at the top of her lungs, making me stop in my tracks with the feeling of vomit rising in my throat.
“Go on ahead,” she urged with words only.
“Wh, why do you have kids locked in here?” I questioned, wrapping myself in my own arms to try to attain some form of comfort as I moved ahead in the flickering lights of the hall.
“There are two reasons, mainly. The first is to help those with drug addictions to detox. And the second? Well, honestly, that’s a bit of a selfish reason on my part. There are some children who really irk me and, well…” She tried to gather her thoughts. “If I don’t like you, we lock you up for a while. It’s as simple as that.”
We came up to the door of the screaming girl. I looked over at the small square window and saw it was Jill. Her face was twisted with despair, which was so unlike herself. “Millie!” she screamed as she banged harder on both sides of the glass. “Help me!”
Martha withdrew an arm from behind her to wag her finger at Jill. “See, I don’t like her, so she’ll be in here for a while.”
My eyes lingered on Jill’s for a moment before I looked back at Martha. “You took my friends and haven’t brought them back. You kept them down here.”
Her hand retreated behind her back. “Ah, yes. Dwayne and, what’s her name… Layla.”
“Yes! What was wrong with them? What did they ever do to you?”
“Dwayne was a gambler and a thief!” Her temper was rising with every word. “And Layla was a little whore! I saw the way she would hang on all the boys.” Pursing her red lips, she calmed herself. “Notice I’m using past tense. We’ve already cured them of their sins. We just haven’t had the time to move them upstairs yet, so we put them back in their rooms down here. We’re running short on time before pickup day—only four days left—so we’re scrambling to get the last of you in.” She began walking ahead and I followed against my will, leaving Jill behind with her frantic screams for help. “Anyway,” she went on, “the rule breakers get taken down here early since they cause us a headache. Sometimes we keep them locked up before their procedure if we aren’t very f
ond of them.” She looked over at me. “But I don’t mind you, Millie. I’ll make sure your procedure is quick; I won’t make you wait in one of these filthy rooms.”
What was I supposed to do, thank her? “Why doesn’t anyone remember what happened to them?” I pried. “And, when I pointed out my friend who was in a wheelchair, my other friend acted like she couldn’t see him. How is that possible?”
“It’s simple: Once the procedure is finished, one of the counselors—usually whichever one that particular patient was assigned to—educates them about what they are supposed to remember seeing while here at the program. He or she will tell them that they will no longer remember anything about the basement or the procedure, and that they will not even see any wheelchair or the catatonic state of the person sitting in it. Also, any confrontations with the guards or other members of the staff will be forgotten. We instill nothing but good memories of your time spent here. Playing sports, making friends, having beneficial counseling sessions… Those sessions also help us get to know you better personally, which helps us reconstruct your memories. You see, the mind is very fragile and impressionable for the first ten or so minutes after the procedure. Whatever you choose to tell it while under the catatonic state, it will remember once it returns to normal.”
“So you brainwash us,” I stated.
“We don’t look at it that way. We simply correct your bad behavior and instill good behaviors and positive memories. It’s very advanced and so far we’ve had nothing but positive results. That’s why our program is so popular.”
“It wouldn’t be if they knew how you performed it.”
We stopped in front of the rusted metal door without a window. “You are a very lucky girl to be involved in this progressive method. If this were the late eighteen hundreds you’d be getting your stomach and colon removed in an attempt to rid the toxins from your body that were causing your psychotic behaviors.”
My eyes narrowed as I looked at her, remembering the diary Toby and I had found in one of the rooms. “Or maybe have my tongue cut out?”
