“That doesn’t answer my question. That is not even a reason. Is this really where you want to spend your days, locked away in here, away from your daughter?”
I realized that this man was not going to back down, but there was no way he would get anything out of me. The truth lived and would die with me.
Suddenly, I’m transported back to my trial. Despite the fact I didn’t want an attorney, I got one anyway. A friend of my sister’s. A hard-ass middle-aged woman who looked at me like she understood. I didn’t say a word to her. Those days following the incident were a bit of a blur, but something about me made Advocate Briggs believe I was undoubtedly insane to commit mariticide. That, coupled with my psychiatrist’s report, was what they used to have me locked away here instead of in a state prison. I was really angry those months before. The anti-depressants didn’t help the way they should have. Instead, I started having manic thoughts and shared those with my doctor.
“Your Honor, this woman killed her husband in cold blood. Multiple stab wounds covered his back and chest. He was bashed on the head with a stone pestle several times. Her psychiatrist had attested to the fact that there was a lot of animosity between the couple in the months leading up to the crime, and she had, on more than one occasion vocalized how much she wished her husband was not in the picture. She’s confessed to the murder. There is nothing further I might add,” the prosecutor said in his closing remark.
“Mental illness, Your Honor, is not something my client chose, but it is what she had been suffering with for several months. She is not able to speak about the incident, and thus she has not been able to provide us with a sound reason for her actions. Your Honor, my client, is not fit to stand trial.”
“I’m insane, Luke Greene,” I told him.
He pulled up a chair in front of me. “You’re not, Alyssa. There is more to this story. You can trust me.”
“I cannot trust anyone,” I whisper. “No one.” I glared at him and hoped he would leave this alone.
“This is not the way your life should be. If you come clean and admit what he did, then you’ll most likely go free.”
“There is nothing more.” I stood to leave, knowing the nurse would be here for me any second.
He reached for my hands, and instead of pulling away, I left them there.
“You can’t save me. Nobody can. It is over.”
“That’s what you don’t see. It isn’t over,” he pleaded.
I pulled my hands away and left the room.
Later that day, I saw him in the cafeteria. His gaze never left mine. What is it about men and their need to save? Sometimes we didn’t need to be saved. We were comfortable being held captive because that was where everything made sense.
Luke always sat in the cafeteria during lunch, eating the same bland food we did. He always sat alone, unlike the other staff who sat in their dining hall. He was the nicest doctor here, but he was also an observer. Luke never did anything without a reason. At least I knew he wasn’t trying to hurt anyone. There were stories you heard whispered when you were in the shower of the things that happened behind closed doors in the office of the other doctors.
Luke had been nothing but courteous to me and had never behaved inappropriately. But who knows what was under the mask? He could be anyone. I knew firsthand what it was like to trust someone only to realize what a fool you were to have done that.
Finishing my food, I left the room hastily. Halfway down the corridor, I noticed I was being followed. I turned around and realized it was the strange guard from the other day. He stopped when I did and started walking when I did. My heart pounded in my chest.He wouldn’t try anything in broad daylight, would he?It was just after lunch, and the staff did their rounds in an hour. I picked up the pace. I was a few doors away from my room, and I’d be safe once I was in there.
Grimy hands suddenly came around my face and covered my mouth. The smell of smoke and old food made me gag. Another hand wrapped around my middle, and I was lifted off my feet and dragged into a storeroom. I tried to scream, but I was muted. Wriggling seemed near impossible. This person was strong.
He threw me onto the cold tiled floor and locked the door.
“We haven’t met officially, sweetheart.” He leered at me, his stained teeth baring at me.
I screamed, but he straddled me in seconds, pressing his clammy hand to my mouth.
“You’re going to be quiet now,” he hissed low. He was strong, all bulk, and was squeezing the air from my lungs. I shook my head, the tears streaming down my face.
“This’ll be really quick.”
He lifted my dress with one hand while the other remained pressed against my mouth. Then he grabbed me by my panties, and I let out silent screams, begging for death to come quickly.
I heard the latch of the door and started struggling from his iron grip to no avail.
“Quiet,” he warned.
The person on the other end didn’t relent. Instead, they started pounding on the door, shouting for it to be opened.
I recognized the voice.
Luke. He’d found me.
