Each morning Tess waited nervously for the nursing officer to arrive on the locked ward, and spot on time each morning he came with his small black briefcase and went to his office on the locked ward of the asylum, and after a few minutes she was allowed in for her daily requested interview.
She sat in the chair opposite him, he fresh from the sane world, sat there with his brushed teeth and groomed hair, intent look behind his glasses.
When can I get out of his ward and home? she asked him each morning; when we consider you are ready and safe to be let out, he replied each day with the same calm voice, the same deep tones. And off sheβd go to begin another day with those whom she considered mad or seemingly dead.
Every day at the same time they would bring along the meals from the kitchen; they would unlock the double doors, bring in the trays of meals from a trolley, leave the doors unattended for the time it took to bring in the trays, and then locked the doors again. Tess waited and watched every time they came timing by the clock on the wall how long it took and how long the doors were unlocked.
This day she waited; time ticked slowly, as she stood in her dressing gown by the doorway to the bedrooms and watched as they unlocked the thick double doors.
She waited until they unlocked the doors and entered with the first of the trays, then she ran like one possessed, out of the doors and along the corridors and heard the commotion behind her as she ran, and the shouting and screaming and calls, and the thundering footsteps behind and then two burly male nurses tackled her to the ground and held her there beneath their mass and smelly breath, seeing the lights on the ceiling flicker on and off, not far away a woman screamed, nearby she heard a manβs rough cough.