A Short Story
Leaves crunched under her feet as she walked down the path. Chilly November winds rolled down the mountain. wrapping around her. She breathed deep. Spread her arms wide. It had been nearly six years since she’d seen a trail. She would enjoy every second.
She continued hiking as her mind travelled back to that place. That horrible place she was sent to. Memory darkened her vision, cloaking the path in front of her.
“Dawson?” The nurse said. “Dawson,” she repeated, teeth gritted.
Lydia Dawson snapped out of her thoughts. mumbling an apology. She held out her hand as colorful pills fell from a little paper cup. She shoved them in her mouth and drank the water. She stuck her tongue out as she turned to walk away.
“Not so fast, Dawson,” the nurse said with a “come back here” gesture.
“Shoot,” Lydia thought as she tried to stick the pills in her upper gums. They kept falling. As she approached the counter, they were in position.
“Open,” the nurse said. She leaned so close Lydia could smell her coffee breath. The nurse squinted as a tiny grin formed on her lips. “Smile, Dawson. It’s such a beautiful day.”
“Dangit.” Dawson panicked. She lost. Again. She glared at the nurse before snatching another glass of water. After she swallowed the pills, she gave the nurse her best fake smile and walked away.
On the way to her room, Lydia bumped into Georgia, her only friend in this place. The only human she could talk to. “They got you, didn’t they?” she asked.
“Yes, unbelievable. How?”
“Yvette told. I guess she saw you spitting them out and went to Old Gunderson about it.”
Lydia searched the common room until she found Yvette. She lasered a glare into the back the Yvette’s head until she turn around. Yvette smiled like they were best friends. A wave followed and she started walking over.
“Let’s go.” Georgia grabbed Lydia’s arm and headed back to their room.
“I know it’s not her fault. She has a mental health condition. But still, does she have to tell Gunderson everything I do?” Lydia flopped onto her bed.
Georgia sat down on the floor and grabbed a notebook. “It’s not just you, you know.” She reached for a black pen on her dresser. “Yvette Salazar thinks she’s a CIA spy. Gunderson is her ASAC. Director? Whatever.”
Lydia blew a raspberry. She rolled onto her side and stared at Georgia’s notebook, a glimmer in her eyes. “It’s just a story. It’s not ready yet,” they said at the same time. Georgia laughed.
“One of these days you’ll have to let someone read them.”
“Not today.”
Georgia went back to writing. She would be focused on that one for a while. So, Lydia grabbed her favorite book and began reading. At some point she fell asleep. She didn’t wake up until two o’clock the next day.
“Good morning, sunshine!” Georgia said as Lydia opened her eyes.
“I’ve been waiting for you all damn day. “Those meds really messed you up, huh?” Georgia examined Lydia closely. “I guess that’s what happens when you never take them. Oh, I heard the nurses talking during lunch.” She stopped, examining the floor, “I snuck over to the break room.”
“Again?”
“Yes, shut up. Listen. They’re letting you go.”
Lydia sprang straight up, swinging her legs over the side of her bed. “What?”
“Yes, baby. The judge ruled this morning. It’s just like you said. They realized you were telling the truth the whole time. You’re free!” Georgia trotted awkwardly in a circle, like a chipmunk attempting a rain dance.
Laughter escaped from Lydia’s chest. Tears flowed from her eyes. Then sobs took over her whole body.
“Aww,” Georgia said, “come here.” She hugged her tight. Lydia hugged tighter.
“I can’t believe it.” She sniffled, wiping her eyes and nose with her sleeve. “I won’t believe it until I’m actually out those doors.”
“Good plan. But I’m telling you, girl. You’re out of here.”
Lydia couldn’t stop smiling. She couldn’t keep her mind occupied that afternoon. So many questions kept flooding in, “When will they tell me? Is this real? Why now? Will I really get out? How can this be? What changed?”
Lydia decided to go for a walk. Thoughts of the day she arrived at the “Shriker’s Hospital for Cognitive Care:” terrified her even now. The battle for her sanity was a devasting loss. Being whisked away to this place with its white walls, white uniforms, white everything crushed her even more.
Her brother, Jordan, had brought the case to the Court a few months before. Their parents recently passed away. The will left all financial control to Lydia. Jordan got the house. But the money was Lydia’s.
They knew Lydia would always help Jordan if he needed it. When he needed it, really. Jordan was a drug addict with undiagnosed bipolar and narcissistic personality disorders. He was constantly in trouble. Their parents could never trust him with millions of dollars. He was devastated, infuriated by the decision. So, he came up with a plan to have Lydia declared mentally incompetent.
Lydia had no idea. Her parents were dead. The massive task of managing the family estate weighed on her. As did finding a new home, maintaining her career, not having a mental breakdown. There simply wasn’t time to notice the signs.
Somehow, Jordan managed to build a compelling case demonstrating Lydia was mentally incapacitated. She couldn’t be trusted to live alone. She was in danger of harming herself and others if left unchecked. She fought the charges. But in the end, there was nothing anyone could do. Everything she tried just made her look worse. So, Lydia ended up at Shriker’s.
“That was five years ago,” Lydia thought as she continued walking the grounds. This was her peace. She did it every day. Hiking was her passion. Georgia loved to write; Lydia loved to hike.
Lydia was also a fighter. Her brother won the battle. She would win the war. After getting over the initial shock and depression of being sentenced to a mental institution essentially for the rest of her life, Lydia created a plan.
First, came the journalists. Most of them dismissed her. A few believed her and shared her story. Then came more journalists. Important people took notice. Eventually, the fancy lawyers arrived. But they all said the case was hopeless. Hope had never truly left Lydia’s heart, but it had faded.
Until Joy Dunmore showed up. She took on Lydia’s case with enthusiasm. Her work was slow. The courts were slower. Lydia and Joy received a lot of rejection. But they never quit. That is, until they reached Judge Marquis. He refused to hear their case. Judge Marquis, the roadblock to Lydia’s freedom. Jordan had gotten to him. Joy told Lydia a few weeks ago.
“We’re going to keep trying,” Joy had said as she squeezed Lydia’s shoulder.
Lydia hung her head. “You don’t understand how manipulative he is. He could make you believe the moon never existed. Now, he has my parents’ money to fund his schemes. It’s hopeless, Joy. There’s nothing we can do.”
Joy smiled. “Leave it to me.”
Lydia had given up. She accepted this was her life. Her goal was simply to make the most of what she had. From that point on, she did what she could to find a sense of purpose, only to find nothing. At least, nothing she could do from in here. So, when Georgia told her what she had overheard, hope blossomed in her heart again.
The next day, an angel descended from heaven. Joy walked into the meeting room. All smiles, she slapped a report in front of Lydia. “Case dismissed,” it said in bold across the top.
“It’s real?” Lydia squealed. She jumped up and hugged Joy. She sat back down. Smiling, staring at the report, she asked, “How?”
“I have my ways,” Joy shrugged. “Let’s just say, I’ve dealt with a narcissist or two in my day. I put a little elbow grease on him. He cracked, went right to the judge. Told him to hear my case. The judge did, and obviously agreed you are sane and should be released immediately.”
“Elbow grease?” Lydia waved her hands and shook her head. “I don’t want to know. So, when can I leave?”
“Today. Now, if you like. You are a free woman as of 10 a.m. yesterday.”
The only tough part was saying goodbye to Georgia. Lydia would miss her. They promised to keep in touch and exchanged addresses and phone numbers. Lydia strolled by all those demonic nurses and doctors. She walked straight out the front doors and never looked back.
Lydia smiled to herself as she crested the mountain. Shriker’s Hospital for the Mentally Ill, was like a toy building on the ground. Surrounded by the most beautiful forest Lydia had ever seen. She breathed in more free air as her plan came back into focus. “Just one more diagnosis and Jordan will be right there. Stuck inside forever where he can’t torment anyone ever again.”
