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Excerpt
Miss Perfect Angel
By
Ellen Margret
Her reaction to the drugs had not been good. The
men in the white coats and spectacles had told her that much, not
that they had needed to state the obvious. The drugs had induced
seizures for some inexplicable reason, she had dispassionately been
told on more than one occasion. She understood what they were saying
even though she couldn’t respond. Speech eluded her, her lips felt
stiff, and her tongue felt blubbery. Her throat burned from the air
that flowed past it every time her ribcage rose up and fell back
down. She found it odd that her ribcage did this when she wasn’t
even thinking about it, like when she slept.
Sleeping, that was strange too; strange and weird
and filled with fleeting images that promised to tell her things but
never did. At least they hadn’t until she woke up that morning. The
dreams, if that was what they truly were, had been clear that night,
and they had stayed with her into waking consciousness. Now she knew
who and what she really was, and the knowing made it all the harder
to deal with.
For six terrible weeks she had been held against
her will, whilst being subjected to humiliating examinations of her
naked and bruised body. She had suffered needles puncturing her skin
and had food that she didn’t know how to chew, forced down her
aching throat into her roiling stomach. Bad enough that mere humans
could do this to her, but the greatest hurt was knowing that those
whom she had cared about, and whom she had long thought had cared
about her, had tossed her out and relegated her to the hell that was
earth.
When the padded door opened, she remained sitting
cross-legged on the similarly padded floor. She knew from experience
that should she attempt to get up then the two orderlies, who always
accompanied the doctor, would come down on her and hold her still
whilst the nurse, armed with a loaded syringe, would dive at her
with that smug look on her face.
“Ah, I see that our Jane Doe is behaving herself
today,” the doctor said, pointing at her with his long sun-tanned
finger.
Said Jane Doe did however notice that the nurse
was still armed with her syringe.
“Now then, Jane, do you feel like talking to us?”
She said nothing. Didn’t they understand that she
didn’t know how to talk?
“She has that flighty look in her eyes, Doctor,”
the nurse declared. “She had that look in her eyes when she was
brought in here six weeks ago.”
The doctor stroked his bearded chin. “Yes, just
before she went berserk, destroyed my surgery, threw an oxygen
cylinder through the window and broke my nose.”
“She broke mine too,” one of the orderlies
reminded the doctor, “and she cracked Roger’s ribs.”
Roger, the other orderly, rubbed his
ribs. “That woman has the strength of ten men, I reckon. She needs
sedating permanently.”
“We cannot continue giving her
sedatives, in view of her adverse reactions to all of them. I have
never known anyone to convulse on every sedative known to man. She
has, I believe, a very odd and unique physiology.”
“But we gave her drugs to combat the seizures,
Doctor. The fact of the matter was that you had to sedate
her. She was violent and out of control.”
“Very true, nurse.” He looked down at the woman
in the straight jacket. “Well, Jane, I have some good news for you.”
She glanced up at the doctor, feeling like she
wanted to rip his throat out. But with her hands secured in the
straight jacket, that was impossible.
“We are going to prep you for surgery.”
She rose slowly to her feet and stared calmly at
the doctor.
“Ah, I see that this does not distress you. Well,
that is good. You see, Jane, we are going to have to sever some of
the neural connections in your brain. Once that is done you’ll be as
docile as a lamb and fit to be reintegrated back into normal
society.”
She nodded. Her outward expression revealed
nothing, but she was inwardly seething.
“Excellent,” the doctor declared. “Nurse will
give you your premed whilst I go off and ready myself for the
surgery. Be good, Jane, and I shall see you in an hour or two.”
She watched the doctor leave, noting that he left
the door open.
“I’ll need an arm. You’ll have to take the
straight jacket off her,” the nurse said to the orderlies.
They pushed her back against the wall and untied
the straight jacket. The second her bare arm was uncovered, the
nurse rammed the needle into her bicep. She had hoped to make her
move before that but no matter, she would still have a little time
before the medication took hold of her.
“Your mouth will go a little dry, and you will
feel quite weak soon,” the nurse explained.
But she didn’t feel weak just then. Her arms were
free, and she flexed her sore shoulder muscles.
The nurse walked toward the door. “Secure her. We
don’t want any mishaps.”
But the one that they called Jane Doe had other
ideas. Dragging in air that burnt her lungs, her entire body tensed.
Her arms rose upward with the speed of light, her palms connected
with the sides of the orderlies’ heads. The crack that reverberated
as their skulls hammered together alerted the departing nurse.
“Stupid, girl, what have you done? They’re out
cold,” the nurse gasped, preparing to flee to safety.
She didn’t get the chance.
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