Warning: Does contain adult references.
I first saw her across the room, standing looking out the window.
In my hand, I held her file.
Abandoned by her family and sent to spend her childhood in the ‘care’ of The Holy Sisters of the Righteous Foot. Her file suggested the Holy Sisters had administered their Righteous Foot on more than one occasion.
Not only was she damaged but she was in adulthood a danger to herself and anyone around her.
On first sight, you had to be taken by her obvious beauty. Tall and thin, graceful of movement and cascading dark hair. But the moment you made eye contact everything changed.
Her eyes said it all and in particular, stay well away, or I may rip your face off and sauté it for my supper.
Her file told me everything I needed to know, the dietary aversion to seafood, the mix-up way she saw the world, the violence she had exhibited on other patients.
There was a reason for her being locked away.
Because she was difficult to manage she was put on a strict daily routine, one she managed without attacking her carers.
Mid-morning I met her for the first time. It was in a room set up like a lounge room but with nothing not nailed down.
She was seated in the grey cloth lounge when I entered and looked at me in surprise as if a fresh plaything had arrived.
I sat and opened her file wanting her to know this was all official, and I was her new doctor, her old one had quit, as had the previous seven.
I introduced myself and detailed the program we might follow. She sat looking intently at me, her eyes wandering over my face as if looking for a crack she might manipulate.
I went through her file, for my sake, not hers; she listened showing no emotion, nothing registering on her face.
In conclusion, I suggested I was interested to hear her story. I wanted her to talk, I wanted to listen.
“The good sisters began each day by bathing me, I wasn’t allowed to touch myself, and they did everything and by everything I mean everything. I learned a lot about my body from them until I drowned Sister Bitchface.
Then I was put in solitary, they fed me dried fish, I choked on the shit, but I never gave them the satisfaction of winning.
Then they sent me here.
I’m twenty years old next Thursday, and I doubt anyone will care. Doctor Three, would have the orderlies tie me down and then he’d exam me, take off my clothes tell me how beautiful I was, he’d drop his pants and push his cock against me only one day he got too close, and I bit it off. Blood everywhere and a screaming doctor. I wondered how he explained that one away.
I’ve been beaten, abused, locked up, fed to every predator you could imagine, so what will you do that hasn’t already been done?”
“Do you read?” I asked.
“Whenever I can, they censor what I read. Don’t want to give me unhealthy ideas they once told me.”
“Do you write?”
“That would require a writing implement, and they won’t ever give me anything I might use against them. And I would.”
“Can you work one?”
“Of course. I’m not stupid you know.”
“I’m very aware of that. What do you do most days?”
“Nothing really. I’m regimented strictly to keep me safe and you safer.”
At this, she smiled for the first time, but I knew her smile wasn’t something to take in as a sign she was showing me a softer side to herself.
I reached into my bag; the act made her sit up as if it triggered another trauma from her past. I took out a kindle I had set up with novels, all different genres; I was going to try something different.
“This kindle has ten novels on it. I want you to read them all and tell me which you liked the next time I see you.”
“Why?” she asked holding the Kindle in one hand. “I might smash it or shit on it if the stories are crap.”
“They aren’t crap; they are among my favourites. Let’s see what you make of them.”
It was immediately clear my response to her was not as she anticipated. She took the Kindle and turning it on looked over the contents.
“Terry Pratchett? Really? Hmm….the best fun you can have sitting down eh?”
“I’m glad you know him.”
With that our session was over, she stood up as the door opened and the orderlies entered; they went through their routine of shackling her before her walk back to her room.
“This is all part of making you safe,” she said, rattling her chains.
She paused at the door, turned and said: “Thank you.”
The two orderlies raised their eyebrows as if intimating they hadn’t heard her say that before as she shuffled out the door.
Written for: https://mindlovemiserysmenagerie.wordpress.com/2018/02/04/sunday-writing-prompt-240-collage-prompt-39/