Chapter 24
Recovery. That’s where all the females who’d been exposed or “mentally infected” by the male population were sent. It was a hospital-like place far away from our city, surrounded by wilderness. This gave limited options for escape as intended. We had always assumed that those who disappeared were killed for their crimes, it’s what the Officials had wanted us to believe to intimidate us into behaving. Yet all along they had been right here, suffering through “recovery”.
My recovery started right after my mother’s visit. They lead me from the holding building handcuffed and blindfolded and took me away. I’ve been here two weeks now. Two weeks was long enough to figure out how things worked around the place. It was enough time to know that I wasn’t going to be released any time soon. That I was trapped here indefinitely.
At first I was confined to my room, which was a vast improvement to my cell in the holding building. I had light and a bed and that was more than I could ask for by that point. There were no windows and the door was locked from the outside, so there were no chances for escape.
After a few hours I was retrieved from my room by a woman in professional-looking clothes, slicked back hair, and heels that made that click, click, click sound as she walked. She didn’t say much and I followed her without comment. I didn’t see any point in resisting just yet.
She lead me to a room that closely resembled a psychiatrist’s office, which made me frown. They were going to put me through therapy? That was their way to recover my wayward self? It almost made me laugh. Little did I know at the time that this was only a small part of it.
I was left alone in the room for awhile with the door locked, of course. Normally if I were left alone somewhere like this I would sit respectfully until whoever I was waiting for returned. However, considering I was more or less a prisoner I didn’t feel the need to follow normal social customs.
The first thing I did was search through the desk situated in the back of the room. There was nothing of interest in any of the drawers that were unlocked and I could find no way to get into the one that was locked. Other than the desk there were two dark vinyl chairs in the middle of the room. The leftover space was filled with bookshelves.
I was perusing through Females: A Guide to Recovery, when the door opened. A woman in her late forties stood before me offering a non-threatening smile, which only served to make me warier.
“Find anything of interest?” she asked and gestured to the book I held. With a fake smile to match her own, I slid the book back on the shelf.
“Oh yes, fascinating stuff,” I replied. Her pleasant expression showed that she either missed the sarcasm or was ignoring it.
“Why don’t you take a seat?” she suggested serenely.
“I’d rather stand actually, if you don’t mind,” I retorted and then began pacing.
I was starting to feel like a caged lion with all these locked doors and seemingly endless life of captivity I could feel stretching before me. And if I was a lion then this lady must be my trainer, here to condition me to do and believe as she said. I wanted to bite her head off.
I was startled from my violent thoughts by the woman offering me a cup of tea. How strange my world had become that I could very well be described as a violent person. Nowhere to be found was the once docile girl I’d been. Even stranger that this women who wanted to tear everything I stood for apart was hospitable enough to offer me tea. For some reason the thought made me burst into uncontrollable giggles.
“Something funny?” the woman asked. I shook my head quickly, stifling my random burst of laughter.
“Well, Kaydance, I should probably start by explaining everything to you,” she began and the still lingering smile dropped from my face. “My name is Melinda Cartwright and I am, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, a psychologist.”
“We will be meeting once a day during your stay here unless I find reason to increase or decrease your visits. When your not here, you will follow the schedule provided for you throughout the day. In the morning you will go to the cafeteria and eat with the others and then head to your designated area. There’s group therapy after lunch and then you’ll meet with me alone later for your daily visit. After dinner you will return to your room and remain there for the rest of the evening. Any questions?”
My head was spinning so fast with the weight of a million questions and yet I couldn’t seem to focus on just a single one. It took a moment for her words to sink in and then another few moments before I could respond.
“Others?” I asked in surprise.
“Well, yes, you aren’t the only one here. All of the other women here are well on the road to recovery and shortly you will be, too,” Dr. Cartwright informed me.
“Oh.”
It made sense that there would be others, but I just didn’t expect to ever see them. I thought for sure we wouldn’t be allowed contact with others, especially not those who were corrupted. It threw me off balance a bit.
“One last thing, you should know that any behavior deemed…inappropriate is liable for repercussions. I hope you understand what I mean,” she stated and I stared hard at her.
Say or do anything they didn’t want me to say or do and I’d be punished. That’s the message I heard loud and clear. It’s the first thing she had said that really resonated with me. What kind of punishments did I have in store? Torture? The very thought made me nauseous.
“Now, should we get started on today’s session?” she asked encouragingly and then began before I had a chance to answer. “Let’s start at the beginning. Tell me about your childhood.”
And so it began.
* * *
After my session finished I was instructed to walk to the end of the hall where I would find the dining room. I expected someone to escort me, perhaps the woman who had taken me from my room earlier, but instead I was sent on my own. This was surprising to me except that I quickly realized there was really nowhere for me to go. There were cameras in plain view watching my every step and when I gently pried on one of the door handles I found it to be locked, just like the rest. There were no windows or other places to go. I was trapped.
Without further delay I entered the dining room for dinner. Immediately every pair of eyes in the room, about twelve, swiveled to look at me. I stared back with curiosity at all the other girls and women seated before me eating their dinners. We all had something in common. We were all criminals. At least by designation of the society in which we lived. And yet it was apparent this bond wasn’t something flaunted around here. The silence of the place was overwhelming and it wasn’t something just brought on by my entrance. Hardly any of the girls talked to one another and most sat as far apart as they could. It almost seemed like they were afraid of one another. How strange.
Steeling myself I took a step further into the room, looking around for some sort of guide on what I was supposed to do. There was no one there to offer me assistance, but I noticed a sole tray situated on a counter full of food that I assumed was my own. I quickly walked over to grab it, the sound of my shoes squeaking against the white linoleum the only sound in the room.
It was as I was scanning the room for an empty seat that I saw her. My eyes widened in surprise and I just about lost my tray in my shock. There seated just a few rows in front of me was none other than Lily Fisher.
Without thinking I crossed the floor to where she sat. She must have seen me coming and yet she never raised her eyes from the disgusting-looking food on her plate. It was only once I was hovering right over her that she finally looked up.
“Lily, you’re okay!” I exclaimed. Or maybe she wasn’t okay, but she wasn’t dead and that’s what I’d meant.
Lily nervously glanced down at her plate and then back up at me again with zero recognition in her eyes. Everyone else was staring at me as well and a few glanced her way now as if my newness was a disease spread by association. In some of the eyes there was even hatred and others just a hopeless despondency. With a sinking feeling I began to wonder if my eyes would look the same after being here for awhile.
“It’s me, Kaydance. Don’t you remember?” I asked her with desperation lacing each word.
The blank, nervous look remained. She didn’t know me or if she did then she certainly didn’t want to. I wasn’t entirely sure how this place worked, but I was almost certain I’d just broken a few rules.
With a sigh that belonged to someone much older than me, I sank into an empty seat. The disgusting mush on my plate hardly looked appetizing and the knots in my stomach made it impossible to eat regardless. Instead I watched the others.
All ate with almost robot-like movements as if they weren’t even tasting the food. Out of the twelve there were only three older women, maybe in their thirties, the rest were all younger like me. The youngest was a girl who looked to be no more than twelve with wide doe-like eyes that were glazed over like the rest of the people in room. For some reason this made me inexplicably more sad than seeing the others had. She was just so young! What could she possibly have done to deserve this place?
Another thought that nagged at me was why the majority of us were young in the first place. How come there weren’t more adults here? The only possibilities I could think of made my stomach churn in protest.
It was maddening being trapped in a room full of people and yet not truly being able to talk to a single one. I needed someone I could decompress to or I’d go insane. I wondered how long it would take for me to look to Dr. Cartwright as a friend if she was the only person I had to talk to. The thought made me shiver in protest. She was my enemy, something I needed to keep straight in my head.
Almost as if some alarm had been sounded that I couldn’t hear all the girls started to get up and dispose of their empty trays. I followed suit and then walked out behind them. Each girl would stop in front of a room that I guessed was theirs and wait until a click sounded and then would step inside. I’d only been to my room once and wasn’t entirely sure I could find it on my own, so I just stood there watching until I was the last one left standing in the hall.
Feeling like the last person in the world I walked down the silent hall. As I walked I noticed how unappealing this place was to the eye. The hall was stark white with zero decorations or design or anything. Just a startling plain white that left me feeling blind if I stared straight ahead too long. Even the cafeteria had been similar, the only addition being the tables. Other than that there were no other frivolous details. It was like they had leeched the world of color and creativity.
“Excuse me, Miss, but you need to return to your room now,” a voice said behind me causing me to jump. It was the nicely dressed woman who had taken me to see Dr. Cartwright earlier.
“Well, I don’t exactly know what room is mine,” I muttered dryly. She stared at me with a crease in her brow before suddenly reaching towards my left wrist. I pulled away automatically and she sighed.
“The number is on your wrist. Dr. Cartwright didn’t tell you?” she asked surprised.
“My wrist?” I said confused.
I pulled my sleeve back slightly to reveal the number thirteen imprinted on the underside of my wrist. I ran my fingers over it absently and as I did I realized with a gasp that it was tattooed.
“Yes, it’s your patient number and room number as well,” the woman said nodding.
They had branded me like cattle destined for slaughter. I was now just a number in their systems and I’d never be able to forget it. I had no doubt they could have made it temporary, something that would fade from my skin in time, and yet they chose to make it permanent. Even if I was someday released I would always know I belonged to them and so would everyone else. I would be an outcast.
And just like that all my bravado from the day was gone. My life was over. I was trapped some place no one would ever find me. I stumbled to my room, waited for the click of the automatic lock, and ducked inside. Once alone, I broke down. Tears I’d kept stuffed inside me for who knows how long finally came pouring out. I was utterly alone. I’d probably never see Catherine or my mother or even Sadie again. Or if I did I wouldn’t even be the person they remembered by then. I’d be whoever the Officials here wanted me to be. A robot that bended to their every whim. I would almost rather they kill me then take my mind. In the end, I wasn’t sure I had the choice.