Please know that I don't take mental illness or shock treatment lightly. There is still controversy today surrounding electro convulsive therapy, ECT, often misrepresented by its negative reputation for being an abuse tool against mental patients in the past. Many have found the modern treatment to be successful (many have not) but more importantly, have found it humane (and still there are those who don't think it could ever be). I would never want to get in the middle of that argument or start one that wasn't there, but I do have a close family member who suffered severe postpartum depression and it worked like a charm.

THE BEGINNING

Chapter Seven

I'm fading away. I don't mind. One day my breath will become one broken wispy string, the last one to escape and I just won't lure another one in. And that'll be that. Any ounce of color I have left will pour out of me, discarded paint to pool beside leaves decayed. I'll turn to gray smoke; too thin, too weak to make a puff, just a fine line making its way to clouds that neither rain or snow, merely existing to dull the world.

"Vitals, EKG, everything looks good to proceed. Does she have a room this morning Colleen?" Voices claw through cobwebs and I'm a rag doll they work on, lift my wrist, position my head, move all of me. Where's Darrel?

"Yes Doctor, they're setting up 4B right now."

"Good morning Mrs. Curtis." Chin trapped by forceful fingers and a piercing light breaks in, my eyeball darting to escape white heat. Where's my husband?

"What do ya say Maggie, you ready to start this day? We're gonna go ahead and take you back, get you prepped." But I don't wanna go nowhere. "We'll be giving you some good medicine to make sure you're nice and comfortable for your therapy."

His hand feels cold on my arm. I shiver. Soda's always warm. Where's Darrel? Pony's awful close to them tracks.…

"Where's Momma?" I open my eyes to a pair of green ones, wistful and watery, only inches away. I pull Pony up into the bed beside me, cover us both up. He's used to lying with Maggie in the mornings. "Ain't she comin' home to me soon?" It's the saddest question he's ever asked me.

"Shh..she's still visitin' Aunt Mabel, 'member?" I remind and hush him and I'm wide awake now, wondering what Maggie's suffering through at the moment. I have to be at work in less than an hour but I can't imagine actually sitting up and putting two feet on the floor. How can I, knowing what they're going to do to her today?

Pony's sucking his thumb and with his other hand he's lightly tracing the tattoo I always tell him is his. His presence, his sweet innocence are the only things keeping me from ripping these sheets off and wrecking this miserable bedroom right now. From tearing it all apart. Even more than it is already.

Pony's just about to drift off when we hear a scuffle taking place out in the den. "But I didn't drink it," Soda yells, his temper flaring. A couple of bumps and knocks and I'm sure Darry's got him in some kind of hold. "Lemme go Darry." Something turns over. Or someone. I expect they'll work it out but I realize I sure as hell can't hide in here for the whole day. Life doesn't stop to wait around on my sorry ass. I choke down my anger and fear and frustration and pull it together for a quick shower and shave, Ponyboy galloping right on my heels.

There's hardly an ounce of harsh to my tone when I force Pony out of the bathroom. "Let Daddy take his shower by his self, now I ain't gon' tell you again. Sit your behind outside this door or I'm fixin' to pop it."

"Can you sit up for us Maggie? I'm certain you can walk just fine to your session." I manage to brush his arm away and refuse. Nobody's gonna tell me what to do.

I draw up what little strength still survives somewhere inside. "Last I checked I ain't married to you."

No matter. They take me anyway, chattering like it's any other day to them. The world starts rolling by while I lie on my back and I feel like I'm on my way to slaughter. I watch those blinding ceiling lights flash by me one by one by one by one, I count them, like I count everything. To find my way back home.

"Boys listen up. Darry's in charge when I'm not home." I'm restless while I sit on my hands through Dad's daily rules, ready for this day like I haven't been in a long while. His voice gets louder and firmer. "And what does that mean Soda Curtis?"

Soda sighs and says what he's supposed to. "That means I'm not in charge." He's slumped in his chair looking insulted.

Dad talks to us while he walks from room to room gathering his work stuff, checking that the numbers for both the construction office and the refinery are still taped by the phone, even though we're never ever supposed to dial them. And the number for Mrs. Thompson next door sits underneath, but we're not allowed to bother her either, seeing as her husband had a stroke last year and she's got her own set of toubles tending to him. I wonder why Dad bothers writing the numbers in the first place. But it's always been the same routine.

"Darry, gimme them house rules again. And you two rascals better clean out your ears and listen up." Pony actually sticks his finger in his and digs around.

I sit up straight and deliver each memorized Curtis Law without effort or thought, like I'm saying the Pledge of Allegiance while Dad nods after every one and Pony and Soda stare off in space or swirl a spoon through their cereal milk. I'm actually surprised he doesn't make us put our right hands over our hearts. I cover everything from stove safety to locked doors to no fighting to housekeeping to minding manners to no pissing off of the front porch. But when I get to the very last decree, I pause and look to Dad.

I'm supposed to say Mom's word is final and we're not to do anything without her permission. But now she's not back there in her bed to tell us no to everything we ask. She's not there to hold us captive in this house. I wait nervously for him to tell us we have to stay inside or that he'll have our hides if we so much as think of leaving the prison yard. But Dad just hops up like the list ends right where I left it. And suddenly I really am in charge.

And when he makes his way out the door, messing all our hair up along the way, I come alive right with his truck's engine. My smile feels as bright as the morning when I watch him through the curtains rolling out of sight. A bubbling laugh sits low in my belly and moves up my chest and it shakes my shoulders but makes no sound. And I realize…it's joy. I could cry out with it, this elation of finally being free, but I don't. I turn to Pony and Soda and tell them to get dressed. They look at me dumbfounded. I don't want to waste a single minute.

"Well you heard me. Get your clothes on and your shoes. Go, the both of ya. We're goin' out today."

They surround me in a cold room, pull over contraptions and wires to use on me. Something's finally waking up. It feels far away but a little like panic.

"Maggie I'm going to tell you what I'm doing the whole time. Nothing about this is going to hurt. We're sedating you so your seizures won't be so rough on your body, but I'm cuffing the bottom of one of your legs and one of your arms."

The cuffs go on and it's as if my soul just slipped through cracked ice and maybe I want to save myself from drowning.

"Let's go to the swimmin' hole." Soda's throwing rocks off the railroad trestle and he doesn't have a bad idea. The humidity is already pressing down and squeezing the morning, even though the dark clouds are starting to move in on us.

"Yeah okay," I agree and lead us further east, following the tracks that'll take us to the outskirts where the city hasn't met the country just yet. There's always tomorrow to track down the old gang and kick around with them, play stickball in the streets again or shoot BBs at cans with Garcia and the Greene twins and Moss and Shepard. I'm sure they've been wondering where I've been all summer. I can hear Timmy now, probably calling me a pussy for never showing no more. Last time I played with them we accidentally shot somebody's cat and we all ran like hell. I haven't been back since. They don't know it's got nothing to do with that damn cat. If I were them I'd be calling me a pussy too. But today is about freedom. For me and my brothers. For doing things we haven't been allowed to do for so long.

"You think Ma's spending her whole visit with Aunt Mabel in bed?" Soda asks. He's helping Pony balance while he walks the rails like a tight rope and I chuckle imagining Mom as someone's company, someone's guest, but taking over their bed and never getting out of it. "Wonder if Aunt Mabel can help her get happy," Soda says to himself. My smile fades when it's no longer funny.

We've almost made it. Pony's run up ahead a little ways. I still got my eye on him. Soda and I have already peeled off our sweaty t-shirts and they're hanging like rags from our back pockets. "It's hard breathing against this steam," Soda complains and rubs the sweat off the back of his neck. I can't wait to jump in the cool black water and I'm almost salivating for it. I'm gonna open my mouth when I'm under and swallow in a gallon of the dirty water Momma's so scared of.

A train starts rumbling the tracks. I feel the vibration and a horn sounds off in the distance. I yell out for Pony to come on back with us. He hears me. Turns around and I guess he wants his shirt off too. I watch him struggle, tangling himself up in it, standing right smack in the middle of the train track. Soda and I start speeding up our walk.

"Pony, you better get off the track right this second," I yell more demanding even though we still got plenty of time, but I can tell Soda's starting to get nervous cause now he's yelling for him too. We look at each other, I see my own fear in Soda's brown eyes and that's all we need to ignite both of our panic. The dust kicks up clouds behind us as we take off running to reach him.

Pony's already hopped off and safe in the grass before we get there, but throughout the mad dash I imagined him dead, brutal flashes in my mind of his little torn up body, a closed coffin. Soda and I are bent over trying to catch our breath and our sanity while our little brother's twisting to see his back pocket, trying to stuff his shirt in there to match ours. Once I'm steadier I yank him around to face me.

He has no idea why I'd be angry. And really, it wasn't like he was misbehaving. But I couldn't stand it if something happened to him and that little dose of fear has my nerves on edge. My voice is more threatening than it's ever been. "Don't you ever stand on those tracks when you know a train's comin'. Do you hear me? If I ever see you do somethin' that stupid again I'll whip you so hard you'll be beggin' for God's mercy cause I sure won't show you none. Understand?"

We're caught in a wind tunnel as the train violently roars close beside us. It's too loud to hear beyond the metal screeches and pounding but Pony's not answering me anyway. He looks hurt and scared of me and I feel a little bad, but I force him to hold my hand and start walking again. I've made my own rule. From now on Pony will have to hold my hand if a train's going by. No ifs ands or buts. I try and squeeze but he wiggles his hand free and I'm about to fulfill my end of that threat I just gave him until I see he's gone for Soda's hand. And that's fine and dandy with me.

"We're cuffing you Maggie, only to keep your foot and your hand from being affected by the sedation. That way I can keep an eye on their movement while you're having your seizures and that's a good thing. I can better judge how strong or how light I need to go with you."

My struggle starts slowly, but my fight's building. My breath is coming stronger, and suddenly I don't want to just fade away. I rise up to take them on.

Several pairs of gloved hands work to hold me down as someone else scrambles to get the syringe in my IV faster. I twist against them, writhe and cry and scream, frantic cause it's way too late. The medicine works well as it shoots through my veins and I'm stilled, the light going dim. They're back to talking as if I'm not dying right under their noses. "That fight came out of nowhere," some nurse says casually.

My lids are only half open now while my doctor's taping something to each temple. "I'm glad to see it. A good sign." What he says echoes across my skull and I see two of him as my mouth is forced open to allow the invading piece to slide in and press my tongue down. I gag and my eyes leak water, a tear zig zags down and I can't move to wipe it. "You're okay Maggie, just breathe through your nose," the doctor says softly and I feel comforted by a kindness I hear in his voice, like maybe he's going to take care of me. My body's floating now in a whirlpool of intoxication, my only focus on the rhythm of air that I'm drawing in and out, in and out to soothe. Somewhere a machine clicks on, firing up for the electricity that's spiraling across billions of molecules and already seems to be charging the room. This is it.

They finally put the mask on me. Yes please knock me out. Pretty please oh God. I open my nostrils wide and suck hard to take it all in fast and greedy, making sure I won't be awake for this. "Count backwards from ten Maggie," he instructs, but I pray instead.

"Holy Mary, mother of God pray for us sinners now..." But my prayers become more whimpers as I'm falling in the black water. "Oh God please Jesus watch over my babies."

A shock of lightning, an electric fork streaks its way across the sky, sizzling the air and crackling against the dark clouds it burns through. Soda's about to dive off the rock when he sees the flash and hears the thunder rise to answer almost immediately. "Think we should get out?" he asks me, hoping I'll say no.

We just got in and the water feels so good, even with Ponyboy hanging on my back, strangling my neck as I tread to keep us both afloat. "Nah, it's alright," I decide. It's probably dumb but I feel like the storm won't find us tucked way back in this swimming hole. And besides, I've never heard of anyone being struck by lightning in my life.

Soda nods his approval, seconding my irresponsible decision and tells us both to watch his attempt at a backwards dive. Of course he puts on a show high above us, taking his sweet time and making an act out of warming up his scrawny muscles while we wait, then turns around, quickly slipping his underwear down to moon us. Pony laughs and I roll my eyes and wonder if maybe he really did take a nip out of that whiskey bottle I found him sniffing this morning. After he's done wiggling his birthmarked backside around he pulls up his drawers and kicks himself off the mossy boulder, arching into a perfect back dive. He's grinning the whole way down, narrowly missing a thousand jagged rocks.

The lightning has become an unending round of flashbulbs, and we feel the thunder as much as we hear it. The sky opens up and the rain comes down in sheets, driven by a hard wind that bends the trees and adds to the choppiness of the water, and as far as I'm concerned the day is beautiful like this. Dark and rough and rebellious and it's like we're swimming in both earth and sky, down below and up above, an entire world of water. We splash around and tackle each other, always making sure Pony's never alone where it's deep enough that you can swim so far down the temperature drops real cold and you forget which way is up.

And the evil water-snakes circle and slither away, cause today, we're the dangerous ones.

"No I don't want her with a catheter. I want her up walking around by later today."

I open eyes slowly and can do nothing but blink. I have no earthly idea where I am. I listen to the voices and try to piece together some kind of story.

"As soon as she comes off this I want her dressed and in a normal room. Give her some lunch. Mark what she eats, we'll continue with her fluids if needed. I want to talk to her later this evening. Clear some time for me during my rounds. I'll be back after the dinner hour."

The storm's cleared and it's hotter than it was before it began. The blazing sun dries us out on the walk home, even our wet underwear beneath our clothes. Well, mine and Pony's. Soda refused to wear his underwear and it's drying across his shoulder. If Dad could see us now he'd call us his swamp babies for sure.

Pony stays close beside us without me even needing to remind him, without even a sign of an approaching freight. I smile a little to myself, feeling kind of powerful that I was able to teach him a lesson. Then I wince at the morbid visuals of his wrecked body I had earlier. I shiver in the mercury of a hundred degrees. I think about Mom always screaming her head off at me to make sure Pony's not tearing off for the tracks down our street. I reach out and rest my hand on top of his wild hair. He has no idea why.

"C'mere squirt," I tease and bring him in for a headlock, let him know I love him by roughing him up a little bit.

I'm sore, like the flu's settled on my muscles, but at least I'm wearing my own clothes now. I ignore the dry toast at my little table, close my sweater together over my dress and stare out at the late afternoon. I'm startled by the man who's sitting down in the chair across from mine.

"Maggie, I'm Dr. James, do you remember me?" I don't recall much about coming here, but I recognize his voice. The kindness. "You've just had your first shock therapy and it sometimes affects your short term memory, or makes you a little confused. Are you getting your memory back Maggie?"

I don't bother answering. I just hope Darrel comes to get me before nightfall. I look down and notice my dress is zipped on backwards.

"After a few more sessions, I really think you're going to feel your depression lifting a little each time, kind of like a thick fog that finally starts clearing." I notice he doesn't talk to me like I'm used to doctors talking to me. He's not showing off with fancy words. He doesn't even wear a white coat.

"I have to have more of 'em?" I may not remember it, but somehow I know it was terrible.

He leans toward me. "I would like you to, and Darrel would like for you to have some more. We think it'll get rid of that pain you've been sitting under for awhile now." My pulse stops when he mentions that Darrel wants me to stay, wants me to take even more of this. I draw in a shaky breath and look back at the setting sun.

"Maggie, I normally don't start my talking sessions until the next day, but I had to come in and tell you about how surprised I was by you this morning. How you fought against us during your therapy today."

My stomach drops and I look at him, wondering if I'm in trouble. Oh God the things they could do to me here for punishment. My breath starts speeding up. Dr. James must see my distress. He puts his hand on mine. "No Maggie, that's a wonderful thing. You'd been so lifeless, and today you showed some spark, a will to fight and survive and live. That's a big deal in a place like this. I think you'll be a very receptive patient. But you have a lot to fight for don't you? Darrel tells me you have three boys at home."

That's all he has to say for me to collapse back into my chair and weep for my children. He lets me cry for a long time, till it's grown dark and I've got nothing left. Maybe I won't just turn into gray smoke. Dr. James stands up to leave once I've quieted, tells me we'll talk more tomorrow.

And I think I might actually want to.

A/N: Outsiders by SE Hinton.