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I step in first so she won't be behind me. She comes in and presses the button for the lobby. It's a tense, quiet, and long ride down. I grip the banister behind me when we reach the lobby, half expecting a group of men to be waiting there, and the President at the forefront, wearing that creepy smile as he tells me what a fool I've been. But when the door opens, the lobby is empty with only a security guard talking to a receptionist.
"Mr. Carson will take you home," she tells me when we reach the sliding doors, gesturing towards an older man that waits beside the car idling outside.
I search her face for a lie. Her eyes won't meet mine, and she swallows nervously. She's making me even more afraid.
"President Taylor wants you to know the money has been transferred to your account and he hopes we can all forget about this rather unpleasant episode."
Unpleasant...episode. My sister's death, being threatened with prison...all just an unpleasant episode to these fucking people.
But I nod and walk through the doors. Mr. Carson nods hello at me when I reach him, opening the back door of the car. I put my hand to the handle, pretending I slip as I test if the door is able to be opened from the inside.
"Are you okay?" Mr. Carson asks.
"Yes," I answer, releasing the handle, and relieved that at least that it does open. "My sneaker was coming off."
He gives me a small smile. "Well, you go ahead and get in, and we'll get you home."
I get into the car and let him close the door. Stacy still stands at the front doors, watching us, and making me more and more uneasy. The car pulls off and I study the streets closely, making sure he's going the correct way. He's not. At the very first wrong turn, I lean forward in the seat.
"You were supposed to make a left there," I say.
"Was I?" He chuckles, but I can hear the strain in it. "Sorry. I don't live around here."
"What is my address?" I ask.
"I'm sorry?"
"What is the address they took you to drop me off to? I just want to make sure they gave you the correct address?"
"Oh, uh, let me see."
His phone lights up but I can see his face in the rearview mirror. He's panicking and trying to bide time as he searches for something to say. A lie to feed me to assuage my worries. My clearly, very warranted, worries.
"Let’s see. I have, uh...Oh, this damn phone is always messing up. One second."
Time is up. We reach a red light and I pull back the handle. The door doesn't open, but the sound echoes through the car. Swallowing the whimper building in my throat, I slowly turn my head to look at Mr. Carson. His face transforms completely. Smile gone, replaced by a grimace.
"Please." My voice comes out shaky and as terrified as I feel.
"I need you to remain calm, Miss Palmer." The hardness of his tone makes me anything but calm.
"Just let me go home. Please. I won't be any trouble."
"I'm afraid it's too late for that."
In an instant, a partition rises between him and I. I dart forward, banging on it, knowing the front seat is my only escape. He begins driving again, even faster now, the act of pretense no longer needed. I sit back, kicking at the window of the door with both my feet. He's taking me to prison, I'm sure of it. I refuse to go there. I did not survive my father just to end up dying at the hands of another man. I scream and kick, and then when that does nothing, I turn straight in the seat, pulling my legs back and kicking the partition instead.
A crack forms and Mr. Carson shouts for me to stop. Not a chance. I kick harder, using every bit of strength I have in me right now. My sister did not die for me to go to prison anyway. No.
"Let me out!" I scream.
The car jerks to a stop and he gets out of the car. I don't dare to think he's actually trying to let me out, but if he's going to open the backdoor to subdue me, it's a chance for me to escape. But as he walks around the car, I realize why he stopped and where we are. The mental institution. A horrified shudder races through me now. I can't stop it as men pour out of the front doors, making a beeline for us as if I needed further proof of my awaiting destiny. Mr. Carson waits at the back door for them to reach him.
"No, no, no!" I cry out as I move as close to the opposite door as possible.
Why do I always end up trapped at the mercy of the evil men around me? Why did I ever get into this car, although I'm not sure what other choice I had. I can only blame the fact that my eyes are glued to the gathering men around the door across from me for not noticing anyone coming around the car. But now, with my upper body falling backwards because they rip the door behind me open, I curse myself for my stupidity. Arms wrap under my arms, and hands land too close to my chest as they pull me backwards and I scream out for help. I know no one will come for me. The mental institution is miles from anything. Out of sight of polite society, the people trapped inside stay far from people's mind. But as one man pulls me out of the car, and another comes to grab my ankles, all the rumors I've heard about this place race through my mind.
Experiments, deaths, rapes. They were all said to take place here, and worse. The doctors and nurses who work here were known to be sadistic, and even outside of the hospital in the quadrant, they were to be avoided. I cannot go in there. Much like when someone is lowered to the monster, no one has ever returned from the institution once admitted.
