“I don’t get you.” Mag grumbles, shifting from her side to her back. My stomach flutters nervously as her blue eyes regain their playful, almost predatory look She pats her chest, inviting me to lie down.
“I don’t get me either.” I shake my head at her offer, lying next to her. “Just stay like that, okay?” I carefully extend my hand to her face, cupping her chin in my palm. My thumb strokes up her cheek to her temple, her skin is sweaty from sleep. I move my thumb across her forehead, feeling the hard bone of her skull under the soft skin, tracing down the bridge of her nose I push against the cartilage gently. I feel her face twitch as she tries to her face away, but I daringly turn it right back. “No, stay like this, you don’t scare me like this. Just stay submissive.”
“Rizzy that doesn’t make sense. “ Mag interrupts, crossing her arms over her chest. “You’re just power playing!” Her face hardens, contorting angrily. My gut tightens and my mouth goes dry. I feel my hands begin to tremble again.
“Why would I fake this?” I ask quietly, raising my shaking hand to her face, which softens. “Why would I want to fear you?” I carefully cup her chin again, shaking her whole head with my trembling.
“I dunno Rizzy, but how does this make sense, how can you only fear me when I’m not being submissive?” She sighs, but uncrosses her arms and closes her eyes. “Have your way with me.” She admonishes.
“Don’t move, okay?” I clarify as I move my head to her shoulder. My cellmate nods, leaning her head back. I move my thumb over her strong chin, then to her soft, pinkish lips, over sideways across her cheek, last across to her ear. Down her tough neck I continue to stroke, her muscles completely relaxed against my fingers, now that all of them have joined the massage. She doesn’t even tense when her body shudders against my light touch across her clavicle. As I reach the collar of her shirt, I mumble to her. “It does make sense, sort of. Before you were acting normal, when you raped me I mean. Completely normal, then you just snapped. So if you aren’t acting normal, then you won’t hurt me.” I trail off, rubbing her tummy. Mag squirms under me, helplessly, whimpering. “That tickles.” I jump and cower against the red headed woman as a hand grabs my shoulder.
“Mag you have to leave now, they started the half an hour call on lights out.” Sami’s kind voice cuts in. Mag shifts to get out of the bed, stopped by me pushing down on her belly. “Don’t move,” I glance up at the blonde nurse. “Gimme a minute please?” She nods, motioning that she’ll give me five minutes then Mag’s gone. “When I get back to the cell, this isn’t just going to go away.” I say turning my attention back to my cellmate. “We’ll have to figure something out, okay?” Mag nods. “Then I guess you’re going.” I scoot back so she can get up. Mag crawls over the metal bar on the bed and straightens her jump suite when she hits the floor. Sami appears from around the corner. My cellmate flashes an innocent smile. I stare at her, she stares back, and for a minute we just look at each other. Our eyes asking the same question, yet neither of us can understand the question. Sami clears her throat, breaking the spell. I catch a last glance at my lover’s face, so soft, so tender, vulnerable. Then she turns away, and so do I. I hear her clothes swish as she moves away, around the corner. I close my eyes and let my mind wonder just what we wanted from each other with that stare.
I hear the click of Sami’s shoes as she approaches my bed. “You didn’t even notice, did you?” She says, and I crack an eye at her. “I released your other arm, Mag was laying on it, but still and I disconnected the monitors, you never even noticed them though.” I glance over to confirm what she’s saying and find that I am indeed free. “Spread your legs,” The kind nurse orders suddenly. “I need to change your catheter.” I whimper in protest, opening my eyes.
“Can’t I just use a bed pan?” I plead. The nurse shakes her head and I part my legs slightly for her. “Okay, there.” She pushes my knees farther apart, reaching between my thighs and tugs the small tube from my urethra. I close my eyes again. “So when can I get out of here?”
“Tomorrow after lunch.” She answers, carefully pushing another tube back in the small opening, drawing a grunt from me.
“You’re sure?”
“Yeah, we just have to keep you over night for observation.” She pushes my knees closed. “I guess I shouldn’t ask but is she the one that tore you up?”
I sigh and nod. “Yeah, she is.”
“You’re so calm about it, how are you so calm about stuff like that?” She asks.
“I’ve got to live with her, but it doesn’t bother me that she did it. I just don’t like that she could do it again and hurt me more.” I try to explain.
Sami clicks her tongue. “Yeah, I get it.” She passes a soft hand
over my forehead. “Try to get some sleep, hon.” I close my eyes to obey her, and then I fade to bleak sleep.
I open my eyes slowly, letting out a soft groan. I rub the sleep from my eyes as I sit up, looking around. An unfamiliar nurse is circling around the bed that dog-lady is passed out in. She’s a little bit older then Sami, with brown hair and gray eyes. Her face is hard, unkind or focused. I can’t really tell. “Where’d Sami go?” I ask.
“She left, her shift ended.” The nurse quips without even glancing back at me, I move to lie down but her rough voice cuts in. “Don’t bother, you’re getting out of here now, the paperwork’s done. I’ll bring you something to change into; you probably want to get out of the ass gown.” She finishes with dog lady and disappears around the corner. “Hey, the piss bag is empty, you might want to go.” Her cheese grater voice calls. “I’m going to pull the catheter when I come back.” I sit cross-legged on the bed and let out a loud groan as I realize that my bladder is rather full. I close my eyes and let my body relax. Soon my belly tenses and my bladder releases. Peeing with a catheter is kind of like wetting the bed but without the stain and warmth.
“Hey I peed, come collect your spoils!” I call loudly to the older nurse, stretching my legs.
“Gimme a minute, wouldya!” She yells back. A few minutes later the nurse appears with a navy blue jumpsuit. “They brought up the normal uniform, you can deal until you get a chance to change.” She says, setting the clothes on the bed. She glances up at me she gives me an annoyed look. “What are you waiting for a magic word? Spread ‘em.” Suddenly she is focused on my legs. I quickly spread my knees. The impatient woman reaches between them and yanks the tube out. “Alright, off the bed and change.” She gives a final order then disappears again. I practically jump over the bed rail, feeling the paper-thin hospital gown flutter open in the back. I locate the pants to the jumpsuit and push my legs into them, pulling them up quickly. I shrug out of the gown, setting it on the bed. I struggle into the tight white undershirt on, then shrugging into the jacket. I slide my feet into the sandals. I adjust the clothes, finding that they tightly.
I turn around, moving to look around the corner that had separated me from the other patients. On the other side of corner is the part of the infirmary I have grown familiar with in the last few weeks. Twenty beds, about half of them filled, are lined against the walls of the large rectangular room. Cloe’s bed is set in the corner closest to the door to the hall. The blonde said to occupy that bed was dozing off, her hair tousled around her head; her scrub shirt was riding up to reveal the medical tape over her stitches. The story behind the scrubs still makes me giggle. When my friend had first returned she was put into a flimsy, backless gown, she had damn near killed herself refusing treatment until she was given something respectable to wear. It took half a day in the infirmary for Cloe to get a set of blue nursing scrubs. I walk up to my friend’s bed, giving it a good shake to rouse her. As expected Cloe whips her whole body around to face me, her body instantly crumbling into an expression of pain. “Hey, Cloe.” I grin smugly.
“Rizzy!” She growls, holding her right side around her ribs.
“Sorry, I guess I shouldn’t have done that.” I rest my hand on her cool brow. “You don’t have a fever anymore, that good.” I note. Cloe tisks at me impatiently before opening her mouth again.
“So why are you in here? I saw Mag carry you in but she won’t say anything about it, neither will Amber or Namine.”
“Just passed out in the cafeteria, that’s all.” I decide to omit, ‘because I was dehydrated from cowering in my cell for a week.’ The blonde seems satisfied and raises the hem of her shirt further.
“They changed the tape on here, its clear now so you can see the stitches.” She explains, almost excited. “It looks so cool.” There they are, a line of tight stitches that span three or four ribs in length and are about an inch wide, set on the right side of her rib cage. I had been wrong about Cloe getting stabbed, as it turns out, she had just been slashed.
A voice behind me makes me jump. “What are you still doing here? Get your ass out of my infirmary!” The asshole nurse barks at me.
“Calm down, Ally, its just Rizzy she wants to talk to me for a minute or two.” My blonde friend interjects. The mean nurse leaves us alone. Cloe waves away my incredulous look. “You just have to know how to talk to her.” She explains smugly, as though it’s that simple. “Maybe you should get back to Mag, she’s probably not back in her cell yet; you could surprise her.”
“Yeah,” I mumble. “I guess I could.” I continue quietly “See you Cloe.” I turn toward the door, feeling a numbness surround both my mind and body. As I step out of the infirmary, it feels almost leaving a shield, a bubble of protection. I head down the hallway, wondering if I should head back to cell right away. Even as I debate the my feet carry me to the cell block, I don’t even register it until I’m ascending up the stairs to the level of my cell. I find that with each metallic clank of the stairs my pulse pounds a little faster, my breathing jumps as I reach the top step. I continue on the clanging metal walkway, my heart pounding louder in my ears as I get closer to the cell. When I reach the door peer in, much to my relief, I find the cell empty. My heart slows down as I move into the familiar setting of the small room. I cross the tiny space to my bed; I reach up and pull a notebook off the shelf above it.
I pull the pen from the ring binding and sit down on the bed. I open the notebook to a blank page and start another letter to Lindsay. I start by describing the conditions I’ve been living in for the past month, since I last wrote to her. Next I vaguely hint at my rape, then go onto explain of my solitude in the cell. Last I outline my brief stay in the infirmary and mention my panic attacks. I sign it off and seal it in an envelope that’s already got the address scrawled on it. I place it underneath a stack of novels. I lay back down on my bed, stretching out comfortably across it. I take off the tight jacket of my jumpsuit and bunch it up to use as a pillow, letting my body fully relax as I drift off to sleep.
Rather than the painkiller induced blackout sleep I’ve been experiencing in the infirmary, I get to return to the cycle of nightmares and fitful rest. The nightmares are unpredictable, sometimes random people are raping me, other times stabbed or slashed by Mag or Blaze, but most of the time they are much worse, things I get scared of just thinking about, things I’ll never willingly talk about. Last week I get used to it, when I would wake up hysterical my redheaded cellmate would always ready to calm me. Now things have changed, my subconscious has me ripped from my lifeboat and now rejects Mag. Any way after a particularly gruesome reenactment of my fearful mind’s vision of my death at the hands of Blaze, I jump to awareness. A pair of strong arms encircles me as someone’s hot breath touches my ear. Still groggy, I turn to see my captor.
Mag. Laying in her usual spooning position behind me, she sleeps harmlessly. In retrospect, she looks almost cute. I feel her arms twitch as she stirs, my heart jumping a few beats as she reflexively hugs me against her. I go till in her arms as her scent invades my nostrils, Axe deodorant, sweat and her natural scent mix together in a comforting concoction. Suddenly I’m released, well almost thrown, from Mag’s arms as she fully wakes up. “Sorry.” She croaks, her voice effected by morning dry mouth. I flip onto my back from my side and look at her. My cellmate is lying flat on her back; her right arm, which is the closest one to me is bent with her hand tucked behind her head. While her left hand lies lifelessly at her side, her head is cocked toward me; her shaggy mop of reddish hair is surprisingly flung out of her eyes.
“It’s okay.” I assure her. “Just don’t move.” I slowly move over to her watching for tension in her muscles. I lay down next to her, resting my head on her upper arm with my right arm strong across her abdomen. “Tell me how you got in here, no lies.” I order her quietly. A few minutes pass as she thinks about what I’m demanding, she thinks for so long that almost give up and walk away. Then she answers, but not in words, instead of saying something she just flicks her hair into her eyes and looks away.
“Give me a minute, let me think okay?” She mumbles. I nod to her reaching up and tilting her head back to face me.
“Take your time.”