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Sunny Shores Sanitarium


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Trevor and Heather Strokes sat at the kitchen table across from each other picking at their food. Tension filled the modest three-bedroom house. It was so thick, it hung in the air like an invisible fog that no matter how many deep lungful’s of air they took, it felt as if it was never enough. All that could be heard were the deep, frustrated sighs of Heather, the nervous cough from Trevor, and the clanking of silverware as they moved the food around their plates uneaten. The house had not been this quiet and awkward since they had first moved in together.

 

Unable to take the eerie and uncomfortable silence, Trevor finally spoke the words that had plagued him all day. “Why?”

 

Heather set down her fork. She stared off into the distance seemingly lost in thought. Trevor examined her face. She looked exhausted. Wrinkles were beginning to appear on her cheeks and forehead and her light brown hair began to show the first signs of graying. Her brown eyes held a sort of dead look in them, but they had for quite a while now. Ever since Brian’s death she had lost the spring in her step and the light in her eyes. But now, they seemed even more hollow and lifeless.

 

He was beginning to think she wasn’t going to answer his question, but at long last she spoke. “We had to. They were asking questions.”

 

Trevor didn’t respond. He knew the they she was referring to. The police. A detective had stopped Heather on the walk from the hospital to the car in order to question her about Becca. He had wanted to know if there was any connection between Brian’s death and the deaths at the Sphere center. She had answered no. She put the encounter out of her mind- until she had read Becca’s file. Then she realized there was one connection. Becca.

 

Trevor had come home to find her in hysterics. The anxiety had consumed her. It took him a while to get her to calm down enough to get her to explain what had happened. She showed him the note. He was baffled. Why in the world would they be wasting time suspecting Becca? Becca was kind. Becca was gentle, and caring. Becca was capable of emotions that were lost on the older generations. Even Trevor himself had not known how to love, or what love even felt like, until he had held Brian in his arms for the first time.

 

Becca on the other hand… she had known how to love from the very beginning. Many people did not know how to love even after they had kids. Technology raised their children for them. And marriage, well, marriage was not based on love. Marriage was based on the ability to tolerate your partner for long periods of time, and if you were lucky, one day you would even come to like them. And he did. He liked his wife. A lot. Marriage was for the purpose of repopulation. That was it.

 

It had been ingrained in every person from a young age. Repopulate. Repopulate. Repopulate. It was taught in schools. It was advertised on tv. “Do your part,” they all said. He had even heard on the news the government was thinking of passing a law that mandated marriage and at least two children. There were even rumors spreading of a decree that if you were not married by twenty- a partner would be assigned to you. He thought it funny in a sad way. At first he thought civilization had gone backwards, but now he realized that wasn’t it. Humanity had gone forward. Humanity was always moving forward. Expect they were not going forward in a straight line. They had gone forward in a circle; in a sphere. And now humanity was back where it started hundreds and hundreds of years ago.

 

The roles of women were now nothing more than baby makers once again- scoffed at for wanting a career. How could you be so selfish, they would say. How could you put your own wants and desires above the needs of humanity? Their job was to bring children into the world. He had never really thought twice about it until Becca was born. She was strong. She refused to conform to what the world wanted her to be. She wanted to be a solider and nothing was going to stand in her way. He couldn’t be prouder.

 

Now the world’s political agenda made him sick to his stomach. How dare they tell his daughter who she had to be. How dare they cast her dreams aside. The scariest thing about this wasn’t what they taught women, it was what they taught men. Not men, but boys in school. He had once had to sign a permission slip for Becca’s sex education class. He had flipped through the class outline briefly. It was fairly normal things: menstruation and hormones and what not. But when he got to the boys section, his stomach dropped. Even just the name of the program sent him in a rage.

 

No doesn’t always mean no.

 

It was the mans job, the pamphlet said, to impregnate the woman. Even if she didn’t want to. He was in utter shock when he had read that. He didn’t believe his eyes. He was nauseated. Were they really encouraging what he thought they were… Maybe he had just read that out of context? He read further. It continued on about how women didn’t always have humanities best interests at heart. They sometimes had selfish desires. Not all of them wanted kids, and that, the pamphlet explained, was selfish. They even encouraged impregnating multiple partners at once.

 

Trevor was devastated. It wasn’t just what he was reading; it was the fact that he was seeing what it meant for the first time. The message had been there even when he was a boy- just not so blatantly. If you read between the lines, it was there. Now it was the main points on a school brochure. What made him even more sick was the fact he probably wouldn’t have noticed if he had not had a girl. They quickly pulled her from the public education system and home schooled her. They had even gone as far as moving away to a more remote location for her safety. A small village in Alaska.

 

He owed a lot to Becca. She had opened his eyes to the truth. He had taught her how to love and she had taught him how to think for himself. And what had he done? Locked her away. For her safety, he tried to remind himself. But that look in her eyes haunted him. The look of deep hurt and utter betrayal. Their relationship would never be the same again, he knew. Every time he closed his eyes, there she was. Screaming for him. And he just stood back and let them take her away.

 

“Why would she do something like that?” Heather said. She pushed her still full plate forward signaling she was done.

 

“She said it was an accident.” He did the same. He could feel acid rising and falling in his throat. The stress was getting to him too. She shook her head.

 

“If it was an accident, why would she try to cover it up?”

 

He didn’t have an answer for that. It made her look guilty. He could only assume she panicked and acted in the heat of the moment. So they had to hide her from the police. If they put the pieces together and saw that Becca was already in an institution, maybe they’d go easy on her. It would make an insanity plea so much easier.

 

“I think, I’m going to go to bed.” Heather said. She stood up; leaving her untouched dinner on the table and made her way to the back of the house without another word.

 

………………………………………………………………………………………

 


Becca slowly opened her eyes barely making out the blurry outline of a figure standing over her. Where was she? What happened? She wanted to close her eyes and go back to sleep. She felt funny. Sluggish. Drugged.

 

“Wake up.”

 

She moaned. She didn’t want to wake up. She didn’t care if she never woke up again. The right side of her neck throbbed drowning out her body’s aches. Bits and pieces were coming back to her. Her fathers tear streaked face as they took her away. The ride to wherever this was. She vaguely remembered biting someone. And then nothing.

 

“Wake up.” She heard again.

 

Becca opened her eyes as the room around her spun. Once the vertigo subsided and things came into focus, she searched the room for the voice’s owner. A middle-aged man with a neatly trimmed red beard stood over her. His hair, a mixture of brown and red, coated the top of his head as if he had spray painted it on in patches. Becca thought he had more hair on his face than he did on his head. He wore a white lab coat over a pair of green scrubs. In his hands was a tablet that he scrolled through.

 

She watched him for a moment as he read something before his eyes flicked over to hers.

 

“Where am I?”

 

“Sunny Shores Sanitarium.”

 

She scowled at the name. Sunny Shores. It sounded so happy, but not a real happy. A faux happy. A type of happy, pleasant name that raised red flags. And what was a sanitarium? Was that a type of insane asylum? She figured that’s where she was, given the jacket treatment when they picked her up.

 

“So they did commit me.” Becca said in a low depressed tone.

 

“This is not an asylum. This is a sanitarium.” He said. He lowered the tablet and looked her over. Becca squirmed under his gaze. He made her uncomfortable.

 

“Same thing.” She mumbled under her breath.

 

“We are more of a resort for convalescing patients. We offer drug rehabilitations, cancer treatments, long term care, and yes, psychological evaluations.” He said. “We offer both regular and virtual programs.”

 

Becca looked up and grimaced. A virtual reality helmet hung from the ceiling.

 

He went on to introduce himself as Dr. Bernard, one of the psychiatrists on staff. He then confirmed her fears. She was on the psychiatric floor. He said it would be better than being put with the other injured patients, but she wasn’t so sure. Instead of voicing her concerns, she let him talk.
He said she would still receive treatment for her injuries. She wasn’t thrilled to learn she’d be on the same experimental medication as she was in the hospital. Side effects and all.

 

“We are more equipped to handle your treatment than your small town hospital.” He said. He must have sensed her reluctance to be here because he added. “I think you’ll find this program much more to your liking.” She resisted the urge to roll her eyes, but more because she lacked the energy to do so.

 

Becca felt a trail of drool roll out the side of her mouth. Even though her brain told her to wipe her face, it seemed to take her arm a few more seconds than normal to respond. “Sorry we had to sedate you. You bit me when we came here.” He held up his hand to show the bandage wrapped around his fingers.

 

“I would have punched you, but you had me in a straight jacket.” Becca half mumbled and half laughed. He scowled.

 

“You’re here for me to deem whether or not you’re a threat to yourself or others. You’re not off to a good start. If you want to go home-“

 

“You said I’d like it here. Why would I want to go home?” Her voice was thick with sarcasm. ‘”I felt someone taking off my pants. I’ve heard stories.” She closed her eyes again. She could feel herself drifting off, but he told her not to sleep yet.

 

“An orderly was changing you. They didn’t realize you were incontinent until the jacket…” Becca chuckled weakly. Not here even a full day and she already had a record. At least she got to ruin a straight jacket in the process. All she probably did was claim it as her own though.

 

“I’m not incontinent; I just can’t walk.” Becca said. Her voice was getting hoarse again.

 

“So they put you in diapers?” He seemed a dumbfounded so she tried to explain.

 

“I couldn’t roll my body over to use a bed pan.”

 

“Bed pan? What year do they think this is?” He shook his head. She seemed confused. As much as she wanted to get up and use the bathroom, she couldn’t. He handed her a remote by the bed. She looked at it confused. It only had three buttons on it. One said half, one said full, and the other said open and close.

 

“What’s this for?” Becca asked.

 

“The toilet.” He said. He looked at her a little surprised. “Press the open button.” She did as she was told and let out a startled eep. She heard a motor running. Part of the bed cushion was sliding out from under her. The bed itself was raising her to a sitting position. When she was done moving she threw the blankets off and looked underneath her to find a porcelain bowl full of water under the bed that was rising up to meet her.

 

“Press the half button for liquid waste and the full for solid.” He explained.

 

“It flushes?” She asked in surprise.

 

“A bidet too. And you don’t have to worry about not being in the correct position. It senses where you are on the bed and will automatically move under you.”

 

Becca looked up at him. Her eyes were full, not of contempt, but of pure admiration. “I am so so sorry I bit you.”

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