Disclaimer: I am not responsible for the content of this story. Basically I own nothing not even myself.
"Not guilty for reason of mental disease of defect," followed by a slam of the gavel. The air around the courtroom turned still, after a few moments the judge continued, "You are sentenced to a mental institution until deemed safe to return to society." Again the judge slammed his gavel.
Lisa was dumbstruck how after everything that had happened to her; she was the one who was being punished for Jackson's crimes. He had played the part of the victim well saying that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that people on the plane did not see anything, except that she was visibly upset and "disturbing" her fellow passengers. Next to her Lisa's lawyer was packing up his papers a solemn look on his face for losing the case, not as much for Lisa's sake. Jackson looked relieved, however Lisa knew that this was a farce and that deep down he was satisfied with the results, not that he was concerned in the first place. The bailiff took the all too shocked Lisa into custody, she did not fight, mostly from the shock of the sentencing.
Joe was up following Lisa and the bailiff out of the courtroom into the sea of reporters down below. They shoved microphones into her face to all get the story of a lifetime trying to find out why she plotted to kill the deputy director of Homeland Security Charles Keefe. She did not respond to any of the questions, while her Dad was screaming in outrage for them to leave her alone. Joe followed Lisa up until she was loaded into the police car, and driven away. He looked at Jackson who was soaking up all of the attention, answering all of the questions the reporters had asked of him. "I would just like to say that I hope that Lisa Reisert gets the help that she needs, and I wish her well."
Flying from one camera to another making him look like a god, while Lisa was going to a holding cell before being transported to the nearest mental institution was just a gross broken form of justice in this situation. He swore not only would Jackson pay, he was going to get Lisa the justice she deserved.
At the police station Lisa was none-to-gently shoved into the holding cell, it was grimy and smelled of mildew. First thing in the morning she was going to be sent off to her new home, which she better get used to because she will be spending a lot of time there. Looking around all she saw were bars, a cot, and a toilet which looked like it had not been cleaned in about a hundred years. Setting down on the mangy cot Lisa had just let the floodgates release, the overwhelming feelings of being sentenced to a mental institution, and the feeling of exhaustion from the night before. At around seven a trey was slid through the bars by one of the officers. Lisa looked at the sandwich not really caring about it or making a move for it. She just fell into a fitful sleep.
Around seven in the morning she was awoken by a rattling on the bars of the cell, the officer asked her for her hands to which Lisa obliged. The cold metal cuffs were wrapped tightly around her slender wrists. They were so tight that they cut off the circulation. A couple of officers pushed her onto a bus with other prisoners going to the same institution as her. Deciding it was better to not to make eye contact, Lisa kept her head down, with her auburn curls shedding her face from the onlookers around her. The bus ride felt like an eternity, making the already dreaded event last longer.
Eventually, around eleven they arrived, the high gate made the building look more imposing than it already was. Guards were patrolling the area with guns to make sure that all of the patients were behaving. A guard came onto the bus to explain the rules, "okay ladies you will get off this bus, then line up. Stand in a straight single file line for processing." He looked like a drill Sargent from his uniform to the short buzzed cut hair. Lisa followed behind a tall woman in front of her with long dark hair. Arms crossed were holding onto her sides she looked more like a scared puppy then a cold-blooded killer.
First thing that happened was they entered the "institution" which to Lisa felt more like a prison. The process was simple they first turned in their clothes, and were sent into the community shower to bathe. Afterwards they were given their white shirts and orange jumpsuits to change into, finger printed, given room assignments, given their paper thin sheets and blankets, and sent to their cells. The fluorescent lights lit up the dull grey hall away. They pushed her into the cell, "Welcome to your new home," one of the officers remarked snidely before shitting and locking the door.
In the cell there was not much it was pretty sparse. It had a desk, chair, toilet, mirror, and a metal bed. Lisa made the bed with the paper sheets, then she lied on it. It felt as if she was sleeping on a rock. Soon a knock came on the door before a slender woman in a white coat came into the room, locking the door behind her. She offered her hand, which Lisa reluctantly accepted. Behind her glasses were scanning brown eyes that were dark and cold as the rest of the surroundings. "Hello Lisa my name is Shannon McMurphy, and I will be your doctor while you are here." Shannon's voice was almost distant and uncaring. Already Lisa could tell that she and this woman would probably not get along at this point. "According to your file you attempted killing the Deputy Director of Homeland Security Charles Keefe. We need to deal with your illusions of Jackson Rippner committing these crimes, and maybe deal with your anxiety over the death of your grandmother and your rape. Although overworking can lead for someone to snap it is still not an excuse to almost kill someone."
Lisa remained silent as she droned on stating mental disorders she could have and treatments that would be performed. Group and single therapy would be administered, in addition to various concoctions of pills. Everything about this place lacked warmth the surroundings and even this doctor could not offer Lisa any kind of kindness that she needed. After a couple more minutes droning on about things the Dr. McMurphy left leaving Lisa alone again. Looking over at the desk Lisa saw a notebook and a pen. She reached over and grabbed it looking it over, thinking maybe keeping a diary would not be the worst idea in the world, it may be one of the only things that could keep her sane. Opening it up she started writing about her experiences so far, and how she felt about Dr. McMurphy. She was not a fan, but how could she be? The woman seemed to not care if Lisa would be getting better or not. Deep down Lisa was hoping that McMurphy would warm up, however even deeper down Lisa had a feeling that she would not. This whole situation seemed hopeless.
The next morning started out with a couple of hours in the common room where Lisa could meet the other patients. She was nervous because at the moment there was no way to tell how sane some of these people were. On her way to a table in the corner she passed by a man who was trying to stick a pencil in his ear, another man laughing hysterically and talking to nothing, a woman who was staring at a wall, another woman who was acting like a four year old kid. At the table Lisa sat down observing the madness. Orderlies making sure that everything stayed in control. In the corner there were TVs which played cartoons, and other harmless things that would not rile up the patients.
Looking in the corner where Lisa was sitting she noticed the woman with long dark hair partially obscuring her face. This woman was rocking back and forth arms wrapped around her legs, her legs were tightly squeezed against her chest. At that moment Lisa did not know what made her approach this woman, but she did. Crouching down Lisa looked at the woman before she tried to calm her down. The woman stopped rocking and looked up at Lisa. Something about this woman seemed familiar, however Lisa could not figure out what it was. Her hair parted a little bit more exposing scared cerulean blue eyes. "Hi I am Lisa," the woman looked at her Lisa with wide eyes not immediately answering.
After a couple of minutes she answered slightly calmer "I'm Miranda." At this point she stopped rocking, but did not loosen up. Lisa gave Miranda a warm smile which in turn caused Miranda to loosen up a bit. "Why are you here?"
Lisa bit her lip before explaining the situation with Jackson and the red eye incident. By the end of the explanation Lisa started to feel warm tears running down her cheek. Miranda took a pale hand putting it on Lisa's shoulder. At first Lisa shied away, then after a couple minutes she accepted the comfort. Lisa was about to ask Miranda why she was here when the orderlies came in to announce it was pill time. No one talked during pill time, they just got into line and took their dose of pills. Some people calmed down, while others seemed to remain about the same. One of the doctors passed by and Miranda got up saying she had a session. The doctor that passed by gave Lisa a chill he looked like a person who Lisa was trying to avoid. Miranda became cold when she went to follow after the direction the doctor went. He was like a ghost the way he seemed to float and quickly pass by all of the people in the hall.
For the rest of the day Lisa did not see Miranda, eventually the patients were returned to their rooms. Slowly Lisa started to fall asleep ending her first day in the madhouse. A couple of hours into her sleep the door creaked open, awaking Lisa from her troubled slumber. It was the ghostly doctor from earlier. At this point though Lisa could not tell if she was asleep, awake, or hallucinating his presence. His dark hair was styled, yet messy at the same time. It was on the longer side going to the nape of his neck, while the sides were cut halfway down the ear. He appeared stiff, like a mannequin. Sacred Lisa pulled the covers closer to her chest. He did not make a move he just started at her quizzically watching. Looking at Lisa like a prey animal he took a couple of steps over to her bed. Continuing to move closer until he was right above her, looking down at her.