by Angela Kempe
“How are you today, MD?
Medora shifted in her seat and looked down at her steel handcuffs. She liked stretching them apart and feeling the cool edges on her wrists. The chain rattled as it clanked on her chair when she lifted them.
“Good,” she said, quietly.
“And how are the new doses? It looks as though you’ve been on 50 mg now for two weeks. Is there any difference?”
Medora peered over her shoulder at the door. A nurse was passing by in the hallway.
She turned back towards her.
“MD? Have you had any visitors this week?”
The doctor turned down towards her clipboard. She clicked her pen open and scribbled a few notes.
PATIENT SEEMS DISTRACTED TODAY
“Uh, yes,” she answered, looking back down at her handcuffs, squeezing her fingers into clinched fists.
“I want to tell you, MD, that we have checked the video camera footage and no one has entered your room this passed week. I’m sorry, but there is no one visiting you.”
Medora looked up. Her eyes were wide.
“That’s because they are speaking to me in my head!”
“How many times have you heard these voices in your head?”
The doctor poised herself to jot her answer down quickly.
“Every night they speak to me. In the late hours. They will come for me soon. Like they came for my sister.”
The doctor put her pen down and looked up at Medora through her glasses.
“You have already been charged in court for that crime. I thought we had already decided last month that you were going to tell us where you hid the body.”
“Part of you getting out of this facility is by coming to terms with what you did. Now MD, let’s think about it. What happened to your sister? Really.”
Medora stared back at the doctor. Her eyes were penetrating.
“The body is on the third planet from earth.”
The doctor stood up, tossing her clipboard on her desk.
“I think we’ve had enough for today.”
She struck the intercom with her palm.
“You can come get her now.”
It was a routine day at the mental ward and a fairly uneventful night. There had been only one outburst from a Schizophrenic and a squabble at dinner between two patients with Oppositional Defiant Disorder. Then, at about 3:20am, Dr. Rutherford received a phone call. She rushed down to the ward to find that MD had escaped. The guards had found her empty bed during a routine room check with the handcuffs still locked shut.
Dr. Rutherford looked around the room for clues, then sat on the bed.
“Did you check the video footage?”
“I think you’d better see this for yourself,” said a guard, poking his head through the doorway.
Dr. Rutherford walked with them into the security room and the guard played the footage. As Dr. Rutherford watched, her face turned white and her mouth opened. Her hands began shaking and so she steadied them by gripping her pants.
The entire room was lit up like the sun, but she could still see Medora through the light reaching her hands up to the beings as they freed her. And she could almost make out the fluttering of wings in the light and the soft feathery hair that hovered around their bright faces like halos.
She could see Medora smiling as she looked straight at the video camera. She seemed to be looking right at the doctor.
Dr. Rutherford gasped in fright.
Then, the room became empty and the light was gone. So was Medora.
The doctor leaned her body on the security console and closed her eyes.
“Who has seen this?”
“Just us, Ma’am.”