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Authors: Julia Barrett
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mother had to force herself to breathe the same air. She had never forgiven Cara for the situation with Mr. Walker. For that matter, her mother had never forgiven Cara for anything. Not for being tall. Not for being a tomboy, wearing jeans and tie-dyed tee shirts instead of pretty dresses. Not for having red hair. Her mother compared it to horse hair.
Cara wasn’t pretty or blonde, petite or graceful. She didn’t enjoy shopping, she didn’t wear makeup. Most unforgivable of all, Cara wasn’t part of the ‘in-crowd’. She might be considered a brainiac by the other students, but her mother didn’t value grades, and she had little interest in Cara’s artwork. Cara was being punished for all those sins, she was certain of it. The fact that she’d lied and stayed out all night with Rick was nothing more than an excuse.
Cara closed her eyes. It was better not to think about it. It was better to sleep and dream about waking in the warm circle of Rick’s arms.
Or better yet, what if she fell asleep and woke up a thousand miles away, in another body, living the life of an entirely different person? That would be perfect. Cara figured she’d spent more than enough time being Cara.
∗ ∗ ∗
James Mackie tapped nervous fingers on the arms of the chair. This was the second time he’d been asked to recount the events of yesterday. The second time he’d been required to describe the condition of the patient when she’d been brought down from the fourth floor. The second time he had to repeat the conversation he’d heard in the stairwell.
He wasn’t even supposed to have been in the psych ward. He was finishing up his second year in medical school and he was only here to do an emergency room rotation. It just so happened that a patient on the psych ward had fallen and needed to have a scalp laceration stitched up.
Dr. Mack, as he was known to the nursing staff, had been suturing lacerations and setting broken bones successfully for a couple of months. The supervising physician had been busy with a motor vehicle accident so he’d trusted James to handle the laceration on his own. James had no idea when he walked onto the ward that he’d get involved in something like this, that he’d be filing a formal complaint against the chief of staff of psychiatry.
He’d happened to be standing at the nurse’s station when the charge nurse had called for him. She’d just admitted a young woman who had been upstairs in the locked ward overnight. The charge nurse was concerned because the girl was unresponsive and nobody could reach Dr. Kent.
James had no idea what to do. This wasn’t his area. He suggested they call his attending to take a look at her. Unfortunately when they’d called down to the ER, the attending said it would be a good hour before he could swing by. He’d instructed them to put in a call to Dr. Bowman, the psychiatrist available for emergencies, and he’d asked James to stay with the patient until Dr. Bowman arrived.
James stood in the room while the nurses catalogued the girl’s injuries. He was appalled by what he saw. The girl was bruised from head to toe, her ankles and her left wrist scraped raw from tight leather restraints. Her right arm had obviously been broken and a new plaster cast applied, but just above the cast, the skin on her arm was red and bleeding from another restraint that had been applied improperly.
While he waited, another nurse joined them, Debbie. James made note of every word of the conversation.
Shaken, Debbie said, “I arrived on shift and found the patient naked and restrained, lying on a bare mattress. She’d been left there, uncovered and unattended, with nothing to eat or drink, for nearly twenty-four hours. The night staff on the locked ward claimed they’d been following Dr. Kent’s orders. According to his notes, the patient had stayed out all night with her boyfriend. Her parents were concerned about promiscuity, and they wanted to scare
Cara wasn’t pretty or blonde, petite or graceful. She didn’t enjoy shopping, she didn’t wear makeup. Most unforgivable of all, Cara wasn’t part of the ‘in-crowd’. She might be considered a brainiac by the other students, but her mother didn’t value grades, and she had little interest in Cara’s artwork. Cara was being punished for all those sins, she was certain of it. The fact that she’d lied and stayed out all night with Rick was nothing more than an excuse.
Cara closed her eyes. It was better not to think about it. It was better to sleep and dream about waking in the warm circle of Rick’s arms.
Or better yet, what if she fell asleep and woke up a thousand miles away, in another body, living the life of an entirely different person? That would be perfect. Cara figured she’d spent more than enough time being Cara.
∗ ∗ ∗
James Mackie tapped nervous fingers on the arms of the chair. This was the second time he’d been asked to recount the events of yesterday. The second time he’d been required to describe the condition of the patient when she’d been brought down from the fourth floor. The second time he had to repeat the conversation he’d heard in the stairwell.
He wasn’t even supposed to have been in the psych ward. He was finishing up his second year in medical school and he was only here to do an emergency room rotation. It just so happened that a patient on the psych ward had fallen and needed to have a scalp laceration stitched up.
Dr. Mack, as he was known to the nursing staff, had been suturing lacerations and setting broken bones successfully for a couple of months. The supervising physician had been busy with a motor vehicle accident so he’d trusted James to handle the laceration on his own. James had no idea when he walked onto the ward that he’d get involved in something like this, that he’d be filing a formal complaint against the chief of staff of psychiatry.
He’d happened to be standing at the nurse’s station when the charge nurse had called for him. She’d just admitted a young woman who had been upstairs in the locked ward overnight. The charge nurse was concerned because the girl was unresponsive and nobody could reach Dr. Kent.
James had no idea what to do. This wasn’t his area. He suggested they call his attending to take a look at her. Unfortunately when they’d called down to the ER, the attending said it would be a good hour before he could swing by. He’d instructed them to put in a call to Dr. Bowman, the psychiatrist available for emergencies, and he’d asked James to stay with the patient until Dr. Bowman arrived.
James stood in the room while the nurses catalogued the girl’s injuries. He was appalled by what he saw. The girl was bruised from head to toe, her ankles and her left wrist scraped raw from tight leather restraints. Her right arm had obviously been broken and a new plaster cast applied, but just above the cast, the skin on her arm was red and bleeding from another restraint that had been applied improperly.
While he waited, another nurse joined them, Debbie. James made note of every word of the conversation.
Shaken, Debbie said, “I arrived on shift and found the patient naked and restrained, lying on a bare mattress. She’d been left there, uncovered and unattended, with nothing to eat or drink, for nearly twenty-four hours. The night staff on the locked ward claimed they’d been following Dr. Kent’s orders. According to his notes, the patient had stayed out all night with her boyfriend. Her parents were concerned about promiscuity, and they wanted to scare
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