The only people who understood her plight were the insane patients in the dayroom. Each time she came into the room, everyone stopped what they were doing and yelled, “Madge is innocent! Madge is innocent!”
Since no one believed her, she’d devised a plan to use her captive audience—mental patients—to do her bidding. She’d taught the women patients how to play games using words and rhyme. In particular, she’d taught them a song that would burn a hole through her smug doctor. And they were ready to perform it live whenever she gave them the cue. She couldn’t wait until she could sing it personally for the esteemed Dr. Perry. It would be him who would be singing a new tune.
I know that song will throw a catch in his giddyap! He won’t have any more excuses to keep me in the hospital. After I sing the lyrics, Dr. Perry will release me immediately.
The volunteer workers who came to visit them were the only friends she had from the outside world. She would sit in the dayroom and read romance novels. After reading so many of them, she missed a man’s touch. So she began making lewd comments to the male patients. On one occasion, she cornered a man in the broom closet and began kissing him passionately.
Madge didn’t know the patient didn’t like being touched. Each time someone touched him, he would scream loudly. When she tried to unzip his pants, he freaked out and began screaming, “Let me go! Don’t touch me! My skin is burning!”
She didn’t care that he was a lunatic; she just wanted to take her sexual edge off. “Be quiet!” she snapped. “Madge is going to make you feel real good!” When she mounted him, she started off very slowly. As she got into the movement, she began riding him harder and harder. The more she gyrated on top of him, the louder he screamed.
“Help me! Get this woman off me! Somebody, help me!” The male patient began crying and tried to shove Madge off him. When that failed, he chomped down on her forearm with his rotten teeth.
“Let me go, you damn lunatic. Madge is going to make you feel real good!” She refused to stop her assault.
When she was about to climax, two attendants rushed into the storeroom. They tried to pull her off the man’s swollen member, but she continued her unrelenting onslaught. She was determined to ease the fire that burned in her vaginal walls. “Not yet! I’m almost there!” She continued rocking back and forth on the patient’s lap.
Before she reached her climax, one of the aides reached for the needle in his pocket and quickly administered a dosage of medication that would allow them to gain control of the situation. Almost immediately, Madge fell headfirst across her victim’s body. Once she was pliable, the assistants forcibly pulled her off him and dragged her out the door. With her bloomers around her ankles, she stumbled as the aides hauled her body back to her room. Her sexual yearnings hadn’t been satisfied. It must be all those drugs I’m given daily, she’d decided. Well, I’m just going to stop taking them so I can be in my right mind when I get me some more.
The fast-acting drug calmed her down instantly. She didn’t remember how long she was unconscious.
In the distance, she heard someone calling her name. “Madge, wake up! We haven’t finish talking. You have thirty more minutes, and then your session will be over.”
“Am I the only sane person in this place?” Madge didn’t want to talk anymore. She needed to keep her wits about her. The first opportunity that presented itself, she was going to escape from her captors.
She was hospitalized in a mental institution, which was never intended to be a fun place. But it was even worse than she might have imagined. Madge never got used to the clothing she had to wear daily. The garments weren’t trendy at all. She wanted to wear her own clothing—the ones that made men turn their heads in her direction. Oftentimes, she dreamed of being free to do as she pleased with her life.
The mental hospital was mind-numbing. She needed variety in her life; instead she was stuck with the same repetitive routine day after day. The floor nurse would shake her awake. Her blood pressure and other vitals were taken before the nurse would give her her daily dose of a mind-altering drug that kept her groggy. Once the nurse finished her chores, she would be escorted to the dining room for breakfast. She always had three meals and three snacks daily.
Once all the patients finished eating, they were escorted by two attendants to the dayroom for their arts-and-crafts time. Madge couldn’t believe this was what was supposed to entertain these bored mental patients. But she feared that, if she stayed there much longer, she was going to be driven crazy too—association did bring on similarities.
Madge spent most of her day playing cards, talking to the other patients, or listening to the humdrum music coming through the loudspeaker. She never participated in group therapy, because she wasn’t crazy like the other patients. Dr. Vincent never forced her to attend the meetings.
Whenever she felt the need to interact with him in a group setting, being nosey was her sole motivation.
One day, Dr. Vincent asked her about her former life. “Madge, what did you do for entertainment when you were younger?”
For the first time, Madge smiled. “I owned a nightclub, Madge’s Speakeasy. It was a very lively place, and the customers dressed in trendy clothes. The liquor flowed freely, and the patrons usually danced the night away. On special occasions, we had live entertainment. I was loved by all the men and hated by all the women.”
“Hated? Why?” asked the doctor.
“I probably slept with all the men who frequented my club. I’m not bragging, but that was a fact. I loved being talked about by those old bats!” Madge rose from the chair and began dancing provocatively across the room. When she reached for her crotch, two
attendants walked across the room to restrain her.
“Madge, your dancing is over!”
“It’s over when I say it’s over! Now get the hell off me!” Madge said bitingly.
The attendants looked at the doctor. Once he gave them the sign, Madge felt the prick of the needle in her shoulder. Everything changed in that moment. There wasn’t anything she could do about it. She didn’t want any more drugs that kept her mind foggy. She was grateful not to be in prison. Being in a mental hospital had its perks. She could continue pulling her life back together and getting stoned at the same time.
Finally, Madge realized that, if she confessed, she’d be a free woman. What harm would it cause? She’d already spent five years of her life there, and she was innocent. She’d been around crazy folks for so long she’d begun acting crazy to survive. With her game face intact, she felt normal. In her mind, she was as sane as the doctors who visited her daily.
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