Scar # 5 The Daddy Detective

The Daddy Detective ~  

September 1989…I was 16 years old… most people believed I was 17, 18 years old.  Esquire and I were doing pretty well. I was busy working in Alexandria and he worked late nights at the liquor store until closing 12-1 a.m. I was also helping my mom out with baby girl, only because I missed baby girl so much, so I went and watched her when mom had to work on the weekends or late at night. I loved that baby girl so very much.

While I was at my mom’s apartment watching baby girl, I was reviewing the paperwork I had collected, trying to make since out of it all. My birth certificate; there was a different last name than my current one. WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON? This is getting more and more bizarre.

There were three marriage certificates; two with my mom’s name and one which appeared to be the name of my father just a few tweaks of the name; you know… variations of a name; Ben, Benjamin, Benny. What is all of this? So, I put the marriage certificated in order by date. My mom married a man different than my father September 1969. She also married my father (??) February 1972. This was very peculiar. The last one was one with the variation of my dad to another woman; a woman with a very prestigious sounding name, dated July 1974. What is going on, I thought. I dug through her files some more and came across some more interesting paperwork which I also put in chronological order by date.

1.       September 1972;  the marriage certificate with mom’s name to a man with a strapping name; we’ll call him “Strapper” 

    OK, Who is Strapper? Where did he come from?

2.       February 1972; a marriage certificate with my mom’s name and the name of my father on my birth certificate.

3.       April 1972; A letter from the State of Maryland Board of Parole; addressed to my father, for now his formal name will be “Mr. X”.

Addressed to; Mr. X

Maryland Penitentiary

Dear Mr. X, you appeared before the Board of Parole in February 1972, and your case was held pending receipt of your psychological and psychiatric evaluations. Upon receipt of this additional information, your entire file was carefully and thoroughly reviewed by the Panel that conducted your hearing.

It was the decision of the Panel to rehear your case in April 1973. In reaching this decision the Board considered your extensive prior record, your escape from the institution on two occasions, and the fact that during your recent convalescence at University hospital, you persuaded a guard to take you home, which was against rules.

In addition, the Board wants to re-evaluate your medical condition after you have reached maximum recovery, so that they can more readily judge your ability to function in the community. During the interim, if your physical condition permits, it is suggested that you seek a transfer to the Camp system and/or the Work Release Program.

                                                                                                                Very truly yours,

                                                                                                                Ass Wipe

                                                                                                                Chairman

  

4.       June 1972; A letter written by mom to the Governor of the State of Maryland in reference to Mr. X.

Honorable Sir:

I am appealing to you, as Governor, to intercede on behalf of my husband Mr. X #12016, MD. Penitentiary and myself. Blah, blah, blah… to have my husband released.

Please let him out of prison, blah, blah, blah. We have our love; he has helped in a narcotic investigation with in the penitentiary. Numerous persons within the prison’s narcotic squad have ensured us that he will be released.

When he (Mr. X) suffered a stroke while in “protective custody”. He was taken to University Hospital and admitted there. While there we repeatedly spoke with the narcotic squad and were again ensured he would be released from hospital to home.

At Mr. X’s parole hearing in April 1972, he was denied.

Blah, blah, blah, FUCKING blah…. X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X   X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X X (for another page)

At this time Mr. X is locked in a room on the fourth floor of the penitentiary hospital, twenty-four hours a day.  As a result of his assistance in the narcotic sting, he is not able to transfer to Hagerstown or Jessup, for fear of retaliation. Blah, Blah, Blah!

He is unable to participate in any programs because of his “protective custody” status. I know Mr. X has an extensive past record, but that is just what it is, “a PAST record”. If he were the same man as he was when he made that record, he would have walked out of University Hospital LONG ago. He certainly had enough opportunities!

Governor, we are asking for a chance… blah, blah, FUCKING blah.

                                                                                                Sincerely,

                                                                                                The Devoted Wife

Side note:  Notice she NEVER mentioned the fact that he persuaded a guard to take him home from University Hospital.

5.   August 1972; A letter to the State Senator of Prince George’s County, MD from The Board of Parole.

Dear Senator,

I have discussed this case with my associate whom is familiar with this case. Both of us, at this time, feel that the decision of the Board is reasonable due to Mr. X’s extensive criminal record dating from June, 1956. I am sure that you are aware that he was originally serving a 30 year sentence which was commuted by the Governor to 20 years.

Mr. X has also escaped on two occasions and has unfavorable reports from the psychologists and psychiatrists; stating he is manipulative and convincing with noteworthy grandeur.  I am also sure you are aware that on his last escape, he married his third wife. It is very unfortunate that she has been ill with major surgery.

It is my belief that the subject exert all efforts to get into a minimum security situation and preferably into the Camp system on work release by the time of his next hearing in April 1972.

 

WOW! WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON? I was Blown away! Clearly he was or is in prison. I had even more documents to read... 

  6.       July 1974; The State of Maryland,     Baltimore County, sct. An application and certificate of marriage to a variation of Mr. X’s name and that snooty sounding woman, we’ll call her “Snoot”.

    7.       June 1977;
The Circuit Court of Baltimore County, MD.

“Devoted Wife” is hereby granted a divorce “A Vinculo Matrimonii” from defendant, the said Mr. X.

WAIT THE FUCK A MINUTE!

Devoted Wife and Mr. X were married in 1972, I was born in 1973, he married Snoot in 1974 and Devoted Wife and Mr. X weren’t divorced until 1977. WHAT IS GOING ON???????????

So, he married Snoot while married to my Mom a year after I was born??? Huh? I’m so confused!

8.    August 1978; In the Circuit Court for Prince George’s County, Maryland.

The petition for name change of Ex-Devoted Wife  and minor child (me) has been granted made in accordance with the Maryland rules and no affidavit filed in opposition thereto it is by the Circuit Court.

Ordered; NEW NAMES!

Ahhhhh Buh-bye Mr. X

Scar # 4 Heartache, Work, Esquire and a Yellow Folder

MEMO:    
To my readers, I wrote this one night and had a pretty difficult time with it. I have thought about it in fleeting thoughts. I did not edit this post, so I apologize for the grammical and spelling errors. I just don't care to read it at this time and edit. Hope you are able to follow even with the errors. 

Be Happy and peaceful!
Me


When I got home with my mom, she said I needed to get a job and help out with the baby girl during the day if I wasn’t going to go back to school in September.

I quickly got a job at a men’s clothing store, owned by two Indian brothers who spoke Urdu. The store was in a strip mall in Oxon Hill it was small and catered to the younger male. PERFECT for me! I LOVE young men!  I was working part time in the evenings for a week or two and watching baby girl until school started. I really thought I was going to attend school, after all Dr. White emphasized the importance of an education and made me feel confident with my intelligence .

The first day of 10^th grade, I can remember what I was wearing; a white shirt tucked into a teal green, high-waist skirt with suspenders which criss-crossed in the back. The short skirt showed and enhanced my skinny, shapeless, stick legs which I was really insecure about. I wore white pantyhose with black flats. I walked in the front double doors with all intention of going through with my education, looked around and felt so isolated from the “school” crowd; I turned right around and walked out, never to return again. That was the last of my formal education. September 1988.

I didn’t tell my mom at first, I pretended to go to school every day, ending up at someone’s house, drinking and smoking cigarettes all day until it was time to call mom and ask her to come pick me up. This went on for about a week and I decided I was going to just fess up and tell my mom. She tried to convey the importance of my education, but hell, at that point I had been out of school for so long, and I really didn’t feel I belonged there, besides, I was a fantastic employee and the brothers offered me a “management” position. I wanted it and mom was surprisingly supportive. She said for me to earn my keep, I had to watch baby girl as often as I could. I loved baby girl and wanted time with her…she was now two years old and so much fun.

I had friends who I could count on to pick me up during the day and take me to work. I was meeting so many men, most of them five or more years older than I. I would let them pick me up after work around 9pm and I would sleep with them. Who knows what I was looking for? Some say love, security…I say I was a SLUT! Those licentious days got me into trouble, trouble that has haunted me for more than twenty years.

In the early spring of 1989, I became pregnant. I was not sure who the father was. I told my mom and she instantly kicked me out of the house. I asked the brothers at work for an advance so that I could pay for an abortion. My best friend took me to the clinic. When I got back to her house that day to rest, I cried all night, I was in emotional and physical pain. I did not believe in abortion and felt I had just committed the ultimate SIN!

I was awake for the entire procedure and can still hear the words of the doctor;

FADE IN:

On the table of an ABORTION clinic; LEGS UP and OPEN for ALL to see! The nurse was holding and caressing my hand with her thumb. I was so afraid, and feeling sorry for myself. So many things were running through my head. What would my life be with a baby? What is it going to be like without one? I can always have another one day when I am able to care for it and when I know who the father is.

I was touching my stomach, which had not started to show, I was about 11 weeks along. I was taking the deepest breaths I had ever taken in my life.

Dr. Monster

Ok, you’re going to feel a couple of sticks, that’s the needle to administer the local anesthesia. We’re gonna let that sit for a couple of minutes to kick in. Then we’ll start the procedure.

Me

(I was crying, not a hysterical cry, just some tears.)

OK, is this going to hurt?

Dr. Monster

It won’t necessarily be painful, just really, really bad cramps, like your period times a hundred.

OK, you’re going to feel some pressure, I just need for you to relax your legs and pelvis.

THAT VACUUM

SUCKED THE LIFE OUT OF ME!

LITERALLY!

There it was; the moment, the ONLY time I would EVER be pregnant…and it was SUCKED right out of me! I didn’t know it at the time, but later in life realized and always felt it was GOD, the universe or the procedure itself (causing damage) or ALL three; PUNISHING me for my decision to KILL and take my child’s life. What a DIRTY WHORE I was! I could only think self-loathing notions of myself. I WAS WORTH NOTHING to NO ONE and would NEVER be! That was going to be my worth for many, many, many years to come.

 FADE IN:

The following day...

I was knocking on mom’s door, suitcase and purse in hand. She had moved in the months since I had been at her house and she now lived on the ninth floor of a high-rise with even more friendly roaches, granted a slightly better neighborhood, but one less bedroom. The couch would be my only option, I was used to it.

She opens the door, I expected a big hug and a kiss… none of that dear girl. She held the door and said come in. I walked past her and walked straight to baby girl who was so happy to see me, I grabbed her, picked her up and held her the way I needed to be held.

Mom

So, are you still pregnant?

Me

No mom, I got rid of it.

(While I was holding baby girl, kissing her chubby cheeks)

 

Mom

You know that is an abomination to God; it’s a sin that is not forgiven. I will pray for you, but you need to change your ways.

Me

Yes, Mom…I know. Can we please talk about something else?

Mom

What else is there to talk about? You need to pray for your soul, you need to ask Jesus for forgiveness, but most importantly, you need to accept Jesus into your heart. Then you will be saved.

Me

Mom, I need a place to stay, can I please come back home and stay? I won’t do this shit anymore. I will take Jesus into my heart. Just please let me stay here.

 

Mom

OK, you can stay…the first time you FUCK UP, you’re outta here!

I stayed with Mom for about two months, just in time for summer fun, after all, I was 15. I had still been working at the clothing store, checking in with mom as much as possible when I was out, she wanted to know where I was all the time. So, I checked in and lied about where I was and who I was with, I was back to my old behavior…drinking more  and more...blacking out just about every night and more shameless behavior.

While  I was  at mom’s and taking care of baby girl when necessary, which seemed to be all the time, I started to snoop in her paperwork, she had file boxes GALORE in her closet and under her bed.

The subject of my dad never came up since that elevator ride, last August. While snooping and reading the piles of paper work in her closet, I came across a file which had some legal papers, naming who I believed was my father. I also found divorce papers which had my MOM and DAD’s name on it. What the FUCK? The date was 1978, I was FIVE years old! She and my grandmother had ALWAYS told me he died when I was two. I NEVER knew him! I knew the name was my father because I found my birth certificate which had his name. There were so many legal documents with his name all over. I had to put the files back before she came home each day, but every chance I got in those two months to snoop and learn, I took some paperwork and kept it separate from the original files.

As summer came, I now had a boyfriend who told me he loved me and I just went with it…hadn’t really heard that for a very long time. He was six years older and worked at a liquor store…PERFECT! Love and Liquor! Just what I wanted!

I started that summer on a quest to find my dad! I called “information” …which back then was the operator (press “O”), you could get up to four phone numbers at a time, so I would ask for his last name in the cities that were listed in all the paperwork…Oh, not in my 15 year old brain did I think; there’s gonna be a phone bill for all of my phone calls to different states, asking if they were related to me or my dad.  The phone bill came and it was OUTRAGEOUS… more than five hundred bucks! Pointless to say, SHE WAS PISSED! There went my safe couch in her one bedroom apartment on the ninth floor. Goodbye baby girl, goodbye friendly roaches!

I did manage to accumulate some paperwork, I had gathered enough to fill a file folder, a yellow one... covered in scribbling and the word… “DAD” drawn on the front in bubble letters…doodles all over. I made sure to take that when I left…she was clueless…she didn’t know why I ran up the phone bill, she just figured it was a rebellious teenager out to make her life more financially difficult on purpose. YES, that’s what I was doing! (Insert sarcasm)

I got a hold of my boyfriend; he worked at Esquire Liquors, so I'll refer to him as Esquire. Esquire picked me up and offered me to sneak into his parent’s house and sleep there at night and leave before they woke up. He would pick me up after they left at the bus stop up the street. His mother was not fond of me. His dad was indifferent. We would get hotel rooms every weekend and party all weekend. By this time I had quit my job and was dependent on Esquire for everything! He wanted to move in together and promised me the world. It was going to take a bit to save up the money for the deposit and first month’s rent, he started hustlin' crack to get the money together. He paid for me to stay in hotels a few nights a week. The other nights I would couch hop again, from one friend’s to another.

September came and I was 16! An adult in my mind, I had a boyfriend who loved me, I was on my own, making it day to day… I finally got another job, this time across the Woodrow Wilson bridge at a telemarketing company which sold new technology phone features to current Bell Atlantic customers; call waiting, *69, *67, and caller id. Esquire let me drive his car to get back and forth to work…it was about 30 miles away…oh, I didn’t have a driver’s license, he didn’t need to know that…plus, I had a fake id that was a driver’s license. Who cares? It was the least of my worries.

Money was saved and there I was signing my first lease on my own home… That's right a 16 year old girl  I said I was 18 and they just made the lease and we signed it.

A Place to call home!

A place I CAN’T be told to leave…

finally SECURITY!

 

Scar # 3 I'm sorry, what did you say??

If something is “needless to say”, why say it?

I need to say…the psych ward is NOTHING like it’s portrayed in movies.

Sure, there are really fucked up people in there but it’s not an “asylum” atmosphere.  They are hospital settings, the only difference is there is no door to walk out and there are community rooms with people walking around. Most used to let you smoke, before the whole second-hand smoke crap and public smoking regulations. There are a few left that let you, but usually controlled times and in a small smoked filled room with a maximum limit, so there are almost ALWAYS lines to smoke, since most of us crazies smoke!

The induction into the world of my psyche was when I was 14.  I was a child who was lost and insecure. Alone and ANGRY! My mom told me my father passed away when I was two, my grandmother was gone, the home I had grown up in was no longer mine, my mom was clinically depressed because of the loss of her mother, I was not living at home, missed my baby sister, had dropped out of high school, was in the streets with people I shouldn’t have been with, in situations I shouldn’t have been in and ended up hopeless in a youth homeless shelter with a package of sleeping pills that I decided to use to end it all. WELCOME to the Psych Ward – Take 1!

I drudged through a few days of bullshit “therapy” that I was not interested in and quite honestly manipulated my way through. I was talking to my psychiatrist, Dr. Inez White; I will NEVER FORGET her name! It is etched in my being and always will be. She asked me what a beautiful, intelligent girl like me was doing in a place like this. What could possibly be wrong in my world, it couldn’t be that bad to want to take my own life. No, it COULD BITCH! It IS BITCH! (I didn’t say that, but I thought it). So, she said she was going to set up a “family” meeting with my Mom. Since I was a minor and still on my mom’s insurance, I pretty much had NO FUCKING choice but to do it.

A day or two later, I can’t remember how long it was but SHE showed up for the meeting.

Let’s call this scar/scene;

Social Security

Setting: The sterile office of Dr. Inez White at GW Hospital Psychiatric Ward. Late August 1988.

Scene: I’m sitting there waiting for my mom; Dr. White is delving through my chart. In walks mom…YAY! Let the fun begin!    

Fade in:

Dr. White

Well, you have a very intelligent, beautiful young lady here. She doesn’t belong here as far as I can tell, but let’s talk a bit. So, her grandmother, your mother just passed away this past April, right?

Mom

Yes, that’s right.

Dr. White

She tells me, you asked her to stay home from school to watch your youngest daughter while you worked because you are financially strapped. 

Mom

Yes, that’s true. I am barely making ends meet and daycare was provided by my mother and when she passed we had to move into an apartment I couldn’t afford and I needed the help.

Dr. White

So, having your 14 year old daughter drop out of school was the solution? Do you receive child support from their father?

MOM

Well, they have different fathers. The baby’s father does pay, but it’s not enough and her father passed when she was two.

Dr. White

Were you married to her father?

MOM

Yes, I was… he’s the only man I ever married.

Dr. White

Well, don’t you receive Social Security for her from her father?

SILENCE for a second or two… Mom COMPLETELY IGNORES and EVADES the question and she TURNED 1,000 shades of white! She manages to change the subject somehow (years of prcatice, clearly). I only know this because there was NEVER an answer. The only thing I remember after that was the thoughts RACING through my head… yea, why don’t you get money from social security? Why don’t I know his name? Where is he buried? Why haven’t I ever seen a picture of him? What the FUCK is GOING ON????

Fast forward to my discharge from the hospital; the “agreement” was I was to move back home with my Mom, get a job and go back to school. AGREED!

Let's call this scene/scar;

WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?

Setting: Hospital elevator and lobby, walk to the car and car.

Fade in:

ME

Did you bring me cigarettes?

MOM

Yes, I did.

ME

So… Mom, what was my dad’s name?

MOM

Not now! Now is not the time!

ME

NOT THE TIME???? WHAT? How come I’ve never seen a picture of him? Why haven’t I ever been to his grave and why don’t you get money for me?

MOM

Well, honey… your father didn’t die when I said he did but I believe he is dead now.

ME

WHAT? What kind of shit is that?

MOM

(In her condescending voice) Honey… I’m not gonna talk about this right now.

LONGEST ELEVATOR RIDE EVER!!!!  Now, exiting the building, I lite up a cigarette on the way to the car, remember I'm 14. I’m now ENRAGED at her flippant attitude and the audacity of it all!

ME

You’re FUCKING KIDDING ME RIGHT?

MOM

I am not going to talk about this right now!

ME

(screaming) YES YOU are!!! Damn it! So essentially he is PROBABLY ALIVE and YOU LIED TO ME MY WHOLE FUCKING LIFE!!! What kind of shit is that???

MOM

Just STOP!

(she’s now screaming) JUST STOP! I’M NOT GOING TO TALK ABOUT THIS!

ME

This is so fucking typical of you! When it doesn’t benefit you or you don’t fucking feel like it, it’s just your way or the highway! I FUCKING HATE YOU!

MOM

Well, you’re not so easy to love either!

Fade Out:

Scar # 2 S.A.Y.S What?

There 14 was out in the world without a place to lay her head for about a month. Couch hoppin’ where ever she could. Wearing out her welcome just about everywhere (at least that’s how she felt, that’s what she told herself), she felt like an outsider, like someone who belonged nowhere, certainly not with her friend’s families and certainly not with the young men she was “hangin” with.

14 felt abandoned, by her mother, by her grandmother by everyone, she missed baby girl. She found herself one night, after drinking lots of beer with 4-Runner, outside a mall at a payphone by herself. It was raining pretty hard. 14 cried with the rain, as many tears fell as raindrops. She was depleted and heartbroken. She had called her best friend collect who was at home safe and secure with her family. 14 told her that she was hopeless and wanted to call the “nine line”, her friend offered to pick her up, but 14 didn’t want to be the outsider anymore… FEELING INCREDIBLY SORRY FOR HERSELF, she hung up with her friend and called 1-800-999-9999 toll free from the payphone. They counseled her on the phone and sent a cab to her.

The Covenant House sent her to S.A.Y.S. House in Ft. Washington, MD. Southern Area Youth Services, a youth shelter for runaway and homeless teens. She walked in well past midnight with her suitcase, which she had gathered when her Mom was not home. It was a small brick bungalow style house. The house was dimly lit, the furniture looked like donated furniture, the décor was old and mismatched and it smelled like Lysol. The man who greeted her reached his hand out to her and they shook hands. He welcomed her to S.A.Y.S. House. He introduced himself; Troy.  He told her she could stay in the bedroom on the main floor for the night and arrangements would be made in the morning @ 6am for her to get a permanent room. 14 was expected to meet in the front room, the former family room when it was a home.  Troy asked to look her bags. He casually ruffled through her things and pointed to her room for the night and said; see you in the morning.

Early morning came fast. 14 walked into the front room in her clothes from the previous day. There were 4 or 5 young people there all teenagers; a couple of girls and a couple of boys. 14 sat down with her arms crossed. Troy then introduced 14 to the group. He explained a couple of rules; have to find a job, have general house chores, etc. He asked the others to explain the rest of the house rules. He also explained that this shelter was TEMPORARY…two weeks MAX. Curfew was 10pm…Lights out 11pm. Plain and simple.

Troy then took 14 back into his office to counsel her, asking her what her situation was, how she got to the shelter, why she felt she couldn’t be at home. She explained what happened with enthusiasm; this was someone who actually cared about what she was going through…no one had cared since her Grammy had died in April. It had been a LONG 4 months. 4 months in a teenager’s world seems long anyway, let alone couch hoppin’ and sleeping with whoever paid attention to her and let her drink and pass out with them. She hadn’t spoken to her mother since she left.

When she was taken to her room upstairs, she walked in and met her two roommates. She put her things away in the drawers and made her bed with the linens she was given. She talked with the girls for a bit and felt very safe and understood, even for a moment.

The next day she called her best friend and she came and picked her up. 14 went to the mall and applied for jobs. She got a job at Sam Goody’s that same day. 14 was pretty intelligent, had an innate people skill. She was starting the day after next. Best friend dropped her off later that evening at the shelter. She reported to Troy that she had obtained a job and he was impressed. He said most of the kids that come through the shelter, either couldn’t find a job because they lacked the interviewing skills or they just didn’t try. This made her feel significant. Unlike the naught she felt she was two days prior.

14 started her job, met some new friends…boys were always after her, usually 4-8 years older than she. She felt her ability to attract boys/men was a way to survive. So, she worked saved a little bit of money a couple hundred bucks…she also pawned her Grammy’s diamond ring…the ONLY thing she had of hers, since Grammy’s last husband had kept everything of hers and all she could grab without notice was this ring. She pawned it for $50 and never saw it again. She always regretted this, even more as she got older.

Here was the dreaded TWO weeks at the shelter, Troy explained to her the following morning she had to leave. She had told him she was going to stay with her Best Friend when she left. There had been a few girls come and go since she had been there.

SO, there she was packing her things in the room alone and she came across some sleeping pills her mom had bought her after her Grammy passed because she couldn’t sleep. There they were SCREAMING at her…”TAKE ME!” “END THIS BULLSHIT!” “DO IT!”… she did…she took them all, probably 15-20. She walked downstairs, called her best friend and told her what she had done and told her she loved her and hung up. She went back upstairs to lay down, praying and crying alone in the room. She drifted off to sleep.

Now, you have to remember this is 1988, no caller id, *69 was just starting, but not everyone had it, you had to pay for it as a service if you wanted to use it. The best friend was a detective, intelligent fellow Libra like 14 and she remembered the “nine line”, so she called and told them the situation and luckily they had a system that kept records and told her they would contact Troy at the shelter and notify 911 since they knew the address. Best friend knew how to get to the shelter, but didn’t have an address and didn’t have the number because incoming calls were not allowed and actually blocked.

Let’s Call this SCENE/SCAR;

You’re being admitted sweetheart

Setting: Southern MD Hospital ER 11pm ish

14 wakes up in ER, tubes in her throat, mom by her side holding her hand. She is extremely groggy, back and forth into sleep. They keep waking her up. They tell her she has to drink this “Charcoal” to make her throw up. She protests and they force her to by telling her if she doesn’t then they will have to put the tube back in and remove it all that way. 

Fade in:

14

Why are you here Mom?

Mom

Because I Love you, you’re my daughter. Why did you do this? (Crying)

14

(As she cries)Because I have no one anymore and I want to be with Grammy.

Mom

Stop with all of this nonsense!

14

(With her voice raised) NONSENSE? Are you FUCKING KIDDING me right now?

Nurse

(Rushes in because of the yelling) Is everything ok? Do you need anything?

14

I need her to get the FUCK out of here!

MOM

I’ll just step out.

14

I DON’T WANT HER IN HERE AT ALL! 

A few minutes pass and a Psychiatrist (we'll call him Shrinky Dink) pulls the curtain back and introduces himself and sits down. 14 is very groggy and can’t see straight (the effects of the sleeping pills).

SHRINKY DINK

Why do you want to kill yourself? You’re a Beautiful Young girl and you’re MOM loves you.

14

I’m sorry, but you clearly haven’t met MY mother! She’s a selfish BITCH and she’s the FUCKING CRAZY ONE!  (yelling)

SHRINKY DINK

Well, you are being admitted to the hospital sweetheart.

14

For  WHAT? I’m fine…just a bit sleepy! WHATEVER, I’ll be ok.

SHRINKY DINK

No, we’re transferring you to GW hospital and you are being admitted to the psychiatric unit for a few days to make sure you don’t try and hurt yourself again!

14

NO I’M NOT! You can’t force me to do that! Fuck you! I’m LEAVING!

14 starts to get up and Shrinky Dink calls for the nurses and they strap her arms and feet to the bed as she kicks and screams in distress, fear and anger! Her Mom outside of the curtain watching and crying. 14 glares at her.

14

THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT BITCH!

MOM

I love you baby!

14

WHATEVER! No YOU DON’T!

14 was transferred by ambulance to GW hospital, they sedated her for her ride.

She woke up on the gurney in The Adult Psych North Unit at GW Hospital, the Medics checking her vitals and giving her charts to the intake nurse. She was still shackled to the bed. 

Fade out: