A Series of Unfortunate Events

Chapter 19

Sharon Raydor opened her eyes and closed her eyes quickly. Her head hurt and not just from where she had gotten stitches. The light shining in her eyes felt like a knife. Really everything hurt from her head to her toes. The worst thing she felt was an alarming need to use the bathroom before she soiled herself. She moved painfully, trying to get up to hurry to the bathroom when a voice out of nowhere said, "Ah ah ahhh, Isabel, you don't have bathroom privileges yet today." Sharon looked around with alarm but could not at first find the source of the voice. She vaguely remembered from the first morning she'd woke up here that the camera was in the left corner closest to the door and that Cora had her glasses in her office. She was farsighted so she could see better far than near, which was why she was able to see Rusty when she'd looked out the window but was not able to see small things that were close. Her room was small and close almost as small as a cell. She was just glad that her room had a bathroom.

She finally found the corner that had the rather outdated surveillance equipment attached to the wall. She looked into what she thought was the camera, "and what do I have to do to earn them, this morning?" Sharon looked at the camera and asked with a tired defeated sounding voice. She did not want to anger the woman, by insisting that she wasn't Isabel. She had learned quickly how that would play out, and she did not think her body could handle much more of whatever they'd filled that syringe with, every time she turned around. Her head felt like she'd drank too many margaritas with Gavin. So, did her bladder.

"Well, I'm feeling generous today, at least in this one instance," Cora said cryptically. "All you have to do is apologize for your appalling behavior."

Sharon's appalling behavior had consisted of telling the woman off on several different occasions. First at dinner for feeding the residents slop while she, Cora got real food which they had to watch her eat, while they were eating food that wasn't fit for pigs. Cora had calmly and dripping with false sweetness told her that if it was that bad she should probably not eat it and had sent her away from the dinner table.

Sharon had left the table and had wandered into the main common room on her way back to her bedroom. She saw that it was a small area with a large window and sickly green walls with green, tan and coral curtains. The furniture was functional and done in olive green. There was a tv, not very large in the corner of the room. She had no window in her room, so seeing the window, she was drawn to it. She'd gone over to it and looked down and she had seen her son Rusty. He was pacing back and forth, running his hands through his hair and even without her glasses, which she didn't have because Cora said she had to earn them back after her temper tantrum at dinner. She could tell he was agitated and upset. Without thinking, she had started waving at him, shouting and pounding on the window trying to get his attention. Just when he looked up and saw her, Cora had one her goons pull her away from the window.

She had roared with rage and tried to stomp on the goon's foot and tried to flip him over her shoulder to the ground, but he was huge, and she had only had ill-fitting canvas tennis shoes on her feet, not her usual three or four inch heels, so that maneuver hadn't worked too well. Between feeling generally unwell because she suspected she'd picked up Bella's cold and the medicines they were giving her were making her feel woozy. Not having eaten since breakfast that morning at The Three Palms and the fact that she was still recovering from injuries from the bomb blast. She wasn't strong enough to pull a 275lb man over her shoulder. The effort to do so had strained the muscles in her back. Making her feel even worse. She had turned her head and looked straight at Cora who was standing there smirking and told her off using words that she had always made a point not to use, under normal circumstances, but the circumstances that she found herself in at that moment were hardly normal. Her husband Jack had often cussed at her with venom when he didn't get his way with her. She used some of his choice words when she was cursing at Cora. After listening to her tirade with an evil smirk on her face, Cora had nodded at the goon that had her in an armlock and he had given Sharon/Isabel another shot of Midazolam in the butt and after that, she had been knocked completely out. What day was it? How long had she been here? My God, she didn't even know what day it was or how long she'd been here? If Cora was trying to drive her crazy as she suspected. She was doing a good job of it.

Sharon wanted desperately to stand up to her tormentor now, but she knew that it wouldn't be in her best interest. She would placate the woman for now until she regained some strength, but she would find her time. Knowing from experience, that showing Cora respect was the best way to go, Sharon said, "I'm very sorry, Mrs. Hartley, I was rude the other night. I don't know where my manners went. I shouldn't have said those things to you in front of my fellow patients. Also, I acted badly later about not being allowed to look out the window I was excited to see someone I thought I knew and I didn't think of the consequences of my actions. I'm sorry for all the times I've lost my temper, that's not like me. I will try to do better. May I please have bathroom privileges?"

"What a nice apology Isabel. Of course, you may use the bathroom," Cora said magnanimously. "Then take a shower and meet us in the dining hall. Colleen will be in to supervise. As you know, she has the key to your room and she will let you out when you are ready. Make sure your hair is pulled back," Cora said and stopped talking, it sounded to Sharon that the woman sounded amused by something.

Sharon frowned and wondered what was so funny. She knew it probably couldn't be good for her. "Thank you," Sharon said humbly. Then all but sprinted to the bathroom that was adjacent to her room. She just made it, which she was grateful for. She hated to think what the consequences of soiling herself would have been, not to mention the mortification. She put her aching head in her hands and allowed herself a moment to grieve. Tears ran down her face as she thought of Rusty, Andy, and Bella. Not to mention Emily and Ricky. Had Rusty recognized her? Would he alert Andy? Of course, he would, but would he be believed? Was Andy, okay? She worried that the stress of not knowing what had happened to her would trigger another heart attack. Was Bella alright?

She hadn't planned on being a mother of a baby this late in life, but in spite of her present circumstances, she couldn't imagine life without her now. She was sooo helpless and in need of cuddling and love. Sharon missed the feel of her in her arms as she rocked her to sleep. Missed the baby smell after she had a bath. Would she ever see her again? Or Andy or Rusty or Emily and Ricky? Her parents? Her team? She was still reeling from waking up in a Psych Ward under somebody else's name! How had that happened? If she had Isabel Beckett's identification bracelet on, then where was the woman that had her bracelet on? Rusty had been very upset, she could tell he was crying. So, was the Isabel they thought she was… dead and wearing Sharon's name tag? Did Rusty and Andy think she was dead?! Sharon started to sob and covered her face while her shoulders shook.

Colleen, who had been assigned as Sharon/Isabel's caregiver came in then carrying the clothes that were on the bottom of her bed. They were white made of cotton and looked like scrubs. She was also carrying a thin white towel and a washcloth. She was a big woman, tall and heavyset, with very dark skin. She had long braids of blonde and dark hues pulled back in a ponytail. Her eyes were a deep chocolate brown, and she had a warm smile for her charge, but it quickly turned to a worried frown when she saw that she'd been crying. "What's the matter, Miss Isabel? Are you in pain?"

Sharon took a deep breath and tried to get emotions under control. "Yes. My head, really my whole body is killing me, but that's not why I was crying. I want to go home! I miss my family! I don't belong here, Colleen! I'm not this Isabel Beckett, you all think I am. I'm not crazy, at least not yet. Although crazy doesn't feel far away right now. I don't even know what day it is, for crying out loud. I don't really even understand how this could have happened in 2017? Being admitted to a psych ward under somebody else's name and not being able to convince anybody of who I really am. Sounds like something that would happen in a movie from the 70's. My God, Colleen, I'm living my own personal version of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest! Complete with Nurse Rachett I mean Nurse Cora Hartley." Sharon sobbed in a congested voice. She wiped away tears that were still flowing.

"Honey, you've convinced me, but I can't let Cora know that yet. I agree with your comparison of Cora to Nurse Rachett too. I Just hope we can get rid of our Nurse Rachett before you end up like Jack Nicholson's character," Colleen said sardonically.

Sharon looked up at Colleen sharply. "Would she do that? I mean can she really order shock therapy for me? What about the others? That's barbaric!"

Colleen nodded. "Her doctor friend, Dr. Pete, will do anything she asks of him, no matter what it is. From what I understand she's got him by the short hairs if you know what I mean. Caught him in a compromising position with one of the Candy Stripers. She was barely legal and he's married! Cora likes to listen to the gossip so she can get things on people and she can make them do her bidding. She told him to order shock therapy for at least one inmate that I know of since I've been here, which has only been a couple of weeks. His name was Ronnie. The gentlest kindest hearted man, most of the time, but if you pissed him off by hurting someone else, well he could be quite violent. She considered him dangerous because he pinned her against her office door and threatened to hurt her if she didn't leave Molly alone. You remember Molly, don't you?"

Sharon shook her head; her memories were foggy. Then a face came out of the fog. "Molly is the teenager, the one that has those scars up and down her arms and pink hair," Sharon said remembering.

"Yes, that's her. Cora would torture that girl, making an example out of her like she's trying to do to you. Ronnie had only ever been violent towards people who hurt others that were younger and weaker than them. Cora made him mad when he heard her verbally abusing, Molly. Telling her she was a worthless little shit. That she deserved to not have friends because she pimped her friends out to her stepfather. She didn't, but she feels guilty that her stepfather targeted her friends as well as her for his use. Anyway, after the shock treatment, Ronnie was a zombie. Cora was afraid of him so sent him to a state facility up north."

Sharon cringed, thinking about shock therapy and worried that Cora would find a reason to do that to the little group of residents. Although she, Sharon was more likely to end up having it ordered for her. She couldn't seem to keep from telling Cora off. In spite of the fact she'd only known the residents for a short time, she was fond of them. She wished that she could do something to help them. She was sorry she hadn't had time to get to know them better. All she really knew were their names. Molly, Paul, David, Victor, and Liza. Oh, and Sara and she knew a little of their stories.

Molly was sixteen. She had longish dyed pink hair, sad blue eyes, and piercings on her nose and eyebrow. She was slender and stayed to herself mostly. She remembered having a brief conversation with her, and Molly had blurted out that she didn't deserve friends because she'd made friends before and they always got hurt because of her. Sharon had not known about Ronnie back then, but she had told Molly what other people did to her friends was not her fault. Molly had told her that her father was a military man and they were always moving. Any town they lived in he would molest at least one of her friends. Even if she didn't bring them home, he would stalk Molly at school and watch her to see what girls she hung out with. Then he would isolate the friend and Molly and molest them then threaten them, to keep them quiet. Sharon had repeated to her that what her stepfather did to her and her friends was not her fault. Her stepfather was the one at fault. Then Sharon asked why she cut herself, and she had said that she cut herself for every friend that she had lost because of her stepfather and then had run away like a frightened rabbit.

Paul was short and stocky, he was moderately or profoundly, Sharon wasn't sure which, autistic kind of like Rainman. His black hair was wild and curly, he had a paunch and was constantly talking under his breath muttering numerical equations and saying random stuff that didn't make a whole lot of sense to anybody but him. Then he'd say something that did make sense and was appropriate for the situation. He was in his middle twenties. He often fluttered his fingers or rocked or held things between his fingers and pulled them back and forth. It was a comforting behavior for him. He had lived with his parents before they died recently and he had been placed here to be evaluated for a residential program. He had started out fifty on the waiting list but kept being pushed back by Cora. He wore baggy grey pants with suspenders and short sleeve polo shirt and suede tie oxfords.

David was young like Molly, thin and very quiet. He watched everybody very carefully, and his eyes were constantly moving. He'd been diagnosed with bipolar disorder and schizophrenia. His hair was blonde and straight with eyes that were blue-grey. He rarely spoke, not because he couldn't he just didn't like to speak unless he had something to say. Surprisingly there was a piano in one of the common rooms and he played it whenever he could earn the right. He was very talented. Sharon had noticed him smile out of the corner of her eye one of the times she had called Cora a few choice words and had mentioned what she wanted to do to her, that involved handcuffs and jail time for Cora. He wore ratty jeans and a red plaid button down shirt and ratty tennis shoes.

Liza was in her seventies. Her hair was red, curly and cut medium short. She was medium height and thin. She wore a white sweater over a blue and white checked house dress, with knee-high stockings and canvas tennis shoes. Her light watery green eyes were turned inward. She was lost in her own little world where the babies that she'd lost one after another were all alive and keeping her busy caring for them. She had made six little babies out of handkerchiefs and treated them as if they were real. Even naming them. She became agitated if any were missing. Cora would sometimes hide one or two. Sharon was surprised that she allowed her to have them at all since it meant entertaining her delusions. She decided it suited Cora to use the handkerchief babies as a way to torture the poor woman, and that Cora enjoyed the perceived power it gave her.

Victor was a slight African American man who was alone in the world. He was in his late sixties and newly blind. He was there because he woke up one morning not being able to see because of diabetes he didn't know he had and had lost his mind for awhile. He was calm now but very sad on the inside, yet jovial on the outside. Sara was large, not as large as Colleen, but hefty. Her hair was pitch black and long but shaved on one side with Coexist cut into the short hairs of her head. She wore black goth-like clothes, black lipstick, and black nail polish. Her skin was very pale and she was quiet, she was clinically depressed. Cora kept these particular inmates at the facility because they were all easy to control and manipulate. If she ran out of the room and somebody new came she would ship one out to the state facility. There was room for twelve inmates, but Cora only liked keeping six or seven around.

Colleen started the shower and then remembering what Sharon had said about starting to feel crazy and not knowing what day it was. Colleen said in a comforting voice, "you're not crazy, Miss Isabel. It's Monday morning, June 5th, 2017. You slept all afternoon and most of the evening, yesterday because you were pumped full of Midazolam for sassing Cora about David playing the piano without permission."

TBC…

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