Soup Kitchen

Samantha was huddled in a corner with a pair of forbidden scissors she had taken from a tray of medication she had passed. Scissors that should not have been left in the open where a hand attached to one's mental instability could reach out and grab them. Like Samantha, they were left unguarded, almost forgotten in a corridor housing a small fraction of the deranged. Her shadow was symbolic of one too many flashbacks that had driven her to acid. Now she was a shell of the innocence she was robbed of. If she had any desires, she did not know them. Nor did she hope for the empty vessel of her being to be filled and at the age of 22, her essence of life had been sapped.

She did not remember how she came to exist in Sanford—one day the walls had closed in around her and a gate had been shut. She did not wish to escape, she just did what she was told and went where she was told. A firm hit in the back of her leg with a wooden rod made Samantha learn fast not to show resistance. She hated physical pain and the strike had left a bothersome welt lasting for three days before subsiding into a healthy bruise.

The cold steel gleamed for a brief moment under the harsh overhead light before it dimmed to indicate Quiet Hour. The nursing staff, what little of it was, would be making their final rounds to make sure all patients were in their rooms and handing out sedatives. Samantha listened to the sharp snipping sound of metal against metal as she opened and closed the scissors. "Rock a bye baby," she whispered. 

The melody was hauntingly familiar as a face floated before her. She believed it was her mother's sister who had sung it to her after her uncle had tucked her in for the night. He would come in before her aunt because he wanted to make sure she was clean before she went to bed. "In the treetop…," snip.

Her memory was of a hand that was thick and hairy. It made Samantha shrink in terror as she imagined a giant spider crawling up her tightly closed thighs. Its bite was painful against her flesh as her uncle assured her it would be quick. He needed to see if she was dirty like her whore mother had been dirty. All she had to do was relax, let him feel, and he would go away. "When the wind blows…," snip.

She remembered whimpering and pleading with him, letting him know she was not dirty like her mother. The endless tears she cried as his pinching became sharper until she couldn't take it anymore and relaxed. And then it was over. Just like he said. She was clean for now but he would have to check again because he couldn't have a dirty whore living in his house. "The cradle will rock…" snip.

Samantha seized a fistful of her hair and pulled it taught. The relief was searing as the sharp blades closed around the thick clump of brown strands making it feel more like it was being ripped away from her skull instead of cut. She grabbed another handful and yanked. "When the bough breaks," snip, "The cradle will fall…"

Nurse Horscham turned down the short corridor where Samantha was huddled. She dropped her tray and watched as the patient rocked back and forth. She could barely make out the lullaby as Samantha continued cutting her hair, unaware of her presence. Horscham reached around the corner and felt along the wall for the light switch and flicked it on and off to let the nursing station know she needed backup. Her voice was low and calm. "Samantha? Are you alright?"

Samantha continued to rock in the same singsong rhythm of her lullaby. Her shorn head revealed bald patches that had once been covered by long, brown tresses. Horscham winced. It never occurred to her the young woman was spending time ripping her hair out by the roots. She took a tentative step forward. "How did you get the scissors, Samantha?"

"Tray," she said. She grabbed a front lock and sliced herself across her forehead as she surrounded it with the open blades and cut. A trickle of blood ran down her nose, leaving a trail of red tears. Her hand froze as she became aware she was not alone. Samantha turned her head and looked at Nurse Horscham. The nurse was taken aback by Samantha's vacant stare. Had Sanford done that to her?

The patient smiled and shifted until she was sitting Indian style. The tip of the scissors traced a line between her breasts and traveled down her stomach and over the elastic waistband of her cheap, gray cotton slacks. The metal point paused at her crotch and began to turn in slow, small circles. "He touched me here. Said he needed to be sure I wasn't a dirty whore like my momma because he didn't want a dirty whore in his house."

The nurse felt her blood drain to her feet as a cold sweat broke above her brow. She swallowed and took a step back, abhorred at being a witness to such deep scars. She heard a clatter as the scissors were dropped against the worn tile and felt a sinking in her stomach as Samantha covered her face with her hands and sobbed. "I'm not a dirty whore."

The patient's repeated phrase was ringing in Nurse Horscham's ears making her want to slap her until she shut up when Dr. Wilson and Nurse Matthews arrived. "It's alright, Samantha," said Dr. Wilson. He rubbed her arm in a consoling fashion until her skin was exposed. Horscham caught a glimpse of the hypodermic needle before it was plunged into Samantha's shoulder. He passed it to Nurse Matthews and helped Samantha up. He looked at the scissors then Horscham. "Take care of those."

Samantha was still sobbing when the sedative she had been injected with started to take effect. The lights flickered as Dr. Wilson led her to her room. Samantha's head felt heavy. She used her free hand to brace herself against the soft, olive-green wall. Black knicks, caused by carts, tainted the cool surface beneath her palm. "I don't feel well."

Dr. Wilson didn't say anything as he guided her to her room. He led her to her bed and waited until she laid down. She groaned in pain. It felt as though her head was on fire from her own assault. Dr. Wilson waited until she was still then fastened her with restraints. His hand stole out and caressed her tear-streaked cheek as his eyes scanned the room to see if the other two patients were awake, then snaked his hand down to fondle Samantha's breast.