The Death of 1977 (Book 3)

Chapter 47

Mother of Grace Psychiatric Center

The sun shimmered through the windows and inside the large, white recreation room of the third floor of the institution. Black men and women, young and old, either sat at various tables or aimlessly walked around in their white undershirts and white pajama pants. Most of the patients wore subdued glazes on their hopeless faces, while others spoke to themselves with their wide eyes glaring all around as though they were expecting the voices in their individual heads to speak back to them. Calm music was playing on the speakers above in the ceiling. The tune was settling enough not to upset even the most fragile soul.

In a far corner was one young lady who had her weary head lying down on a small, metal table that sat perfectly next to one of the caged windows. Her unspoiled undershirt and pants made her appear almost angelic with the sunlight beaming down upon her. While her scarred and swollen hands and face gave off the impression that her life, or what was left of it, had all but been discarded ages ago.

The woman rested her red scarf covered head on her left arm while listening to the other sounds carry on throughout the area. Her eyes were closed slightly to where she could only see a few rays of sunlight here and there. She was so relaxed that doing something as simple as lifting her head seemed laborious. The woman had no desire whatsoever to react to her surroundings. Her pale face and chapped lips made her look as if she had just awakened from a ten year coma.

"Okay, Lynnette, why don't we start all over again." A Jamaican speaking man said as he sat down at the opposite end of her table.

Lynnette remained in her usual position for at least a full minute before she finally looked up to see the middle-aged, balding and bearded doctor with glasses seated across from her. She wiped her face of any excess drool right before sluggishly resting her head on her right hand and twisting her lips in a half-hearted fashion.

"Now, yesterday when we met, we spoke more of dis Mr. Bushard. A man no one has even heard of. Today, I want to speak of de one person you seem to have de most difficulty discussing. Isaac." He patiently stated.

Lynnette's face never once seemed to budge, nor did it even become distressed. She just sat and idly stared at the man as though he were just another person in white.

The doctor, dressed in an all-white lab jacket, straightened his eyeglasses and handed Lynnette a sincere glare before saying, "Young lady, we really need to talk."

"But I've told you about Isaac before, Doctor Cornelius." Her tongue dragged.

"Yes, but I personally believe dat dere is someting else more pressing about dis man dan what you have been telling me."

"I told you what he was."

Shaking his head in doubt and smirking, Cornelius replied, "My dear girl, your delusions of superstitions and fantasies are all but mere walls dat you have used to cover up de real issue at hand."

Lynnette sat back in her chair, and with a lackadaisical pout on her face she sighed, "I know exactly what you're doing right now."

"Is dat right?"

"Yep, you're trying to screw with my head. No matter what I tell you you're not gonna believe me." She shrugged her shoulders. "I've been here all this time and I still can't convince you."

"You must understand dat the matters dat you are trying to convince me of are of a fantastic nature."

Lynnette then began to giggle to herself. "Did I mention that Isaac had to spend time in one of these places, too?"

"No, as a matter of fact you did not."

"Yep, the whole time I thought he was out of his mind. Come to find out...he really wasn't." She coldly lamented.

"Lynnette, your fiancée may be de link we need to uncover de real mystery concerning your state of mind."

"My state of mind," she questioned with a belligerent sneer. "Negro, my state of mind is nowhere in this galaxy. Ever since I've been here I've told you all that went down with me. From my bathroom, to the Towers, to this shitty country. Do you know what it's like to see a person change from a man into...that? That's not exactly something a person tends to forget."

"Is dat why you requested a lobotomy?" Text property © Nôvel(D)ra/ma.Org.

"Yes!" Lynnette desperately pressed her body against the table.

Taking off his glasses and gently placing them on the table, Cornelius sat and remarked, "Lynnette, you have a son, a mother, father and sisters back home. These marvelous stories of demons, you being beaten up by some Englishman, seeing dead people walk around in a forest, it's all only a barrier to a much deeper root dat you must deal with. Do you realize dat we once had a person in here who claimed she was Joan of Arc? She even attempted to set herself on fire just to prove such a fallacy. How far are you willing to take your aberrations? To de point where you may never even see your family again?"

Lynnette sank her body down inside her chair. She turned her eyes away from the Doctor momentarily to look at a couple of ladies who were whispering to each other in a corner before she focused her

attention back to Cornelius again.

"You have no idea what I've been through, sir." Lynnette's tone plunged.

Sighing, Cornelius began to say, "Lynnette, we've been over—

"No, just hold on." She forcefully spoke in a more deep tone. "I remember our last night together, me and Isaac. That man felt so damn good, even with those ugly eyes of his. I remember feeling all over his warm body. Him being pressed up against mine. I hate 'em, but I love him at the same time. Yes, I'm a slut. I also used drugs and lied to my parents. I never imagined in my wildest nightmare that this would be my life. I hardly even remember what my own child looks like after all this time. I don't even know what the date is. Is it Thanksgiving? Christmas?" She shrugged. "But after all that I've went through, I'm not going to sit here and allow you to make me believe that I've lost my mind. I may be crazy, but I'm not that fucking crazy. I just wanna sit here...and melt away. Haven't you ever just wanted to vanish out of sight? Leave this world and never return? Away from evil? Away from the scary things? From this day forward, I'll be praying to God to take me away. To just let me vanish into thin air."

Doctor Cornelius sat and stared misty-eyed at Lynnette for a few moments before he put his glasses back on and stood up and turned around to face the crowd of six men and women, all of whom were adorned in white lab jackets. The studious glares on each individual black face told the stories of reflection and pity upon the subject they had been observing for the past few minutes or so.

Cornelius took a pen and pad from out of his jacket's pocket and started writing something on a page before he slipped it right back inside.

"What we have here before us is an American woman, possibly between the ages of twenty and twenty-two, who just happens to be suffering from PTSD." Cornelius stated. "When she came to Jamaica and why she arrived here to begin with is still a mystery. When de patient was found she was badly beaten to the point where she could hardly even recall her own name. As of late, Lynnette has

revealed a liaison with a man which ended up producing a child. A child dat was not de child of her late fiancée. As a result of her guilt, Lynnette has chosen to indulge in hysterical delusions of shape-shifters terrorizing her and her hometown. Delusions dat she believes even led her to dis very island, away from her family. Given her eccentricities, which by de way I attribute to an indulgence in cinema, I believe it prudent dat Lynnette remain here for an indefinite time in order to evaluate her further."

"Doctor, you mentioned shape-shifting. What sort of shape-shifting would you be referring to exactly?" One of the female doctors inquired.

Snickering, Doctor Cornelius replied, "I assure you, my friend, Hollywood has a very powerful influence on her society. Just think of Lon Chaney Jr. and you shall be enlightened."

At once each and every doctor began giggling amongst themselves. Lynnette, on the other hand, sat and watched as they all carried on, talking back and forth about her as if she weren't there at all before they eventually went on their way in a tight huddle from her area.

She sat totally still in her seat and watched others around her just wander about as though they were lost. In her mind she could see herself lumbering along with them, completely adrift in her thoughts. Soon her right hand began trembling on the table. Lynnette tried to stop it, but no matter what it would not cease from shaking. She then got up from the table and dragged her body over to the window where she looked out past the thin, black bars and at the mist-burdened forest beyond. In her eyes the scenery went on seemingly forever.

At times, while gazing out the windows of the facility Lynnette would often wonder what resided within the forest. What was actually awaiting its chance to lurk out and come after her? The days went on endlessly. The nights were just as excruciating. Every time she dared look into the sky and see an airplane pass she would always reminisce on Isaiah and just what on earth he was doing. But all of that was mere fairy tale.

"There's no such thing as a werewolf." She muttered so sadly at the foggy window. "Please tell me again, God. Please...tell me again."