The ride to the asylum was rocky. I sat up against the west side of the truck. I must have hit my head at least 40 times. Every time the truck hit any sort of bump, my head was forced back and slammed against the cold metal. I didn’t complain though; what do you expect for a convicted insane murderer?
I held my hands together until the truck stopped. I fell forward because it was an abrupt stop. I cursed softly to myself and picked myself back up. I sat down and waited for the heavy doors to open up. When they finally did, I greeted the men driving the truck with a sly grin. They held out their hands and I hopped out. Both men held tight to my arms. I rattled the chain of my cuffs and sighed.
I looked to both sides of me as I was taken into the building. People were scattered, watching me walk in. I didn’t know how to feel about this, so I looked down. I made eye contact with the ground and that’s it. I knew everyone was watching me, and this made me uncomfortable. I was almost relieved to finally get into the building.
I was taken immediately to the nurse’s office. A large lady sat behind a small desk. The desk was scattered with papers that I could only assume to be medical records. I looked around the room, taking in everything.
I was then instructed to sit down on one of the beds. The men let go of my arms and I was free to move about as I pleased. Well, I was able to move as far as the small office allowed me. I decided to follow orders at the moment and took a seat. The bed screamed in pain, and it startled me. I jumped in my seat which made the bed creak again. I could hear the nurse laughing to herself, laughing at me. My cheeks warmed and I tilted my head down so I was looking at my lap.
“Name?” the nurse asked in a voice that sounded like silk.
I looked up for a brief moment and met her eyes. “Sierra Wallace, ma’am,” I replied softly.
The woman scribbled the name down in her records and walked over to me. I shied away from her at first, not really wanting to be poked and prodded at like a lizard you see at a pet store. She rested a hand on my shoulder and half-smiled at me.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” she cooed. “I just want to check your physical health, that’s all.” She walked back to the cabinet on the opposite side of me and opened it, taking out a few pieces of equipment. I crossed my legs tightly and waited for her to come back. I bounced my legs up and down and before I knew it, she was back.
She had a few things in her hands. I remember they were a stethoscope, a reflex hammer, and a syringe. The sight of the needle made me cringe. She placed the reflex hammer on the bed and put the stethoscope up to her ears. She ran the end along my chest, asking me to breathe in and out repeatedly. I followed her instructions, not making a fuss about it. She ran the cool metal up my back, and it sent shivers down my spine. I was relieved when the cold stethoscope was rewrapped around the nurse’s neck.
The next thing she picked up was the reflex hammer. It was shaped differently than most I had seen, but it served the same purpose. She stood in front of me and seemed to study my knees for a moment or two. I was silent as she tapped my knee in a few different spots. She received uncontrollable kicks for certain spots, and small whimpers in others. When she was satisfied with hammering my knees, she placed the reflex hammer back on the bed next to me,
The dreaded syringes came next. She picked one empty one up and turned her attention to the drawer behind her. She picked up a small vile of what I expected to be a sedative or vaccine and forced the needle into it. She filled the syringe about halfway and turned back to me. She flicked the needle, as many cliché Hollywood nurses do, and asked me to hold my arm out to her. I did as I was instructed although I was reluctant, and my handcuffs did not make it very easy. She held the muscle of my upper arm and instructed me to flex the muscle. I looked away and flexed my arm muscle. I bit my lip as I waited for the needle to pierce my skin and inject its contents into my muscle.
I hadn’t felt anything when I felt the nurse’s hand release its grasp of my arm. I relaxed and let my head fall down so my chin was practically touching the skin between the end of my neck and the beginning of my chest. The nurse’s heels clicked away as she walked back to her table.
“You can leave now, Miss Sierra,” she murmured softly.
I heard papers rustle and my guard walked over to me. He placed one large hand on my lower back and guided me out of the office.
We walked down a large corridor where there seemed to be no people. I was confused, considering most asylums don’t allow their patients to roam freely around the building. My guard must have picked up on what I was thinking because he looked down at me and muttered, “Lunch.”
I nodded and looked at the ground. “What’s your name?” I asked softly looking up at him.
“Holden,” he murmured, “just call me Holden.”
I nodded once more and felt his hand move about an inch up my back. I flinched in my mind and took a long breath out.
We walked for about another 10 rooms, and we arrived at my quarters. Holden gently pushed me forward and stepped away from me. He pulled the metal gate open and held his arm out.
“Go on, get in,” he said. I raised my eyebrows at him and crossed my arms. “Please, get in, enjoy your stay, Miss Sierra,” he mocked. I rolled my eyes and took a step into the room. He shut the gate loudly and locked it. I sat down on the old bed and sighed.
“I feel like an animal,” I muttered, crossing my legs across one another.
Holden laughed rudely and jingled his key ring. “Only an animal would kill their own loved one,” he said roughly.
I stood up abruptly and planted myself right in front of the gate. “Say it again,” I muttered through gritted teeth. He took a step back and crossed his arms.
“If you’re trying to intimidate me, it isn’t working, Sweet Sierra,” he mocked again and began to walk away from me.
I rolled my eyes. “Sweet Sierra my ass,” I murmured and sat back down on my bed.
I could tell things weren’t going to be sweet for me.
