Mindf u c k

Weeks passed; it seemed like now it was almost routine for Veronica to be fighting with the orderlies, the sister on a rampage of hate towards her. Sending her in for ECT far too often than she should. Some days... the weak girl was just like a vegetable lying in her tiny bed, eyes fixed to the ceiling with a look of jelly to them. The poor thing, her brain felt like a bowl of instant mashed potatoes on these particular days.

Ian would call to her through the wall, knowing she was there even if she didn't reply. She had lost some weight, a lot of weight; but not her spunk and attitude. She would never let anyone or anything break that.

Today Veronica had a little more energy than she had over the last few weeks and found herself doing sit-ups in her room. The staff still hadn't provided her with much more than what she entered the institution with. Which was nothing; most nights she would pace in circles in her room for hours, the bottoms of her feet becoming raw. She picked at her nails while thinking of how to get out of that horrible place. Where she would go if could escape and when she did... how would she survive in a world where she had to be invisible. Even though she felt she was like a glasshouse most of the time as it was, but now it would be different.

"One... two... three... four..." She counted as she did crunches, closing her eyes and focusing on breathing as she did so.

After about fifty or so, the emerald haired lamb laid down upon the cold, hard floor of her cell. Relaxing after the round and breathing heavily, quick; her hues popped open as she heard voices in Ian's room. They often would listen to each other's conversations when guests would arrive. Being nosy or perhaps just out of boredom. What else was there to do anyway?

Crawling up onto her bed, Veronica got close to the wall so she could make out what was being said. It was Sister Withers, in Ian's cell with an unknown man talking with Ian. Veronica didn't know who the man was, and from the tone of Ian's voice, she could sense he didn't either. "Look, I don't know how many more times I can keep repeating the same thing to everyone. My story never changes. I'm telling you the truth, I even said I would take a polygraph but you all refuse. What is really going on here?"

Ian asked to both of them in an annoyed tone. He recently confided in Veronica days prior about why he was in the ward. His story she believed. Veronica was pretty good at reading people and being able to tell if they were liars. After all, she was a pathological liar herself.

Ian told Veronica one night as they stayed up all night talking through the wall. That he got himself into a big scandal with some big shots at his work. He didn't go into much detail of that but did describe what happened to cause his admission. He said they threatened his life, said they would kill him and his family if he didn't kill a certain wealthy man in the company. He refused and in return seven masked men broke into his home where he, his wife, and his daughter slept. The men hog-tied him and made him watch as they slit his family's throats and scalped them. Then setting up the scene as if Ian committed murder.

Just by the way he told his story to her, she could feel he was not a murderer. Veronica on the other hand. Truly was, and was guilty of her crimes. Never denying it ever to anyone. Ian and Veronica got pretty close over the days that passed. They sat together during feeding times and talked crap to each other when watching the old black and white television in the main room. Sister Withers even made a few smart type remarks to Veronica about her and Ian. The crazed girl, of course, reacting violently and being punished for it. What the Sister didn't know was, Veronica also became rather close to an orderly. He was the only one in white that was somewhat nice to her. Having someone on the inside... on her side was good.

Hearing the door close in Ian's room, she immediately called to him. "Ian, who was that a**hole?" She asked with her ear pressed to the wall. They didn't want to talk too loud because it was easy to hear just about everything in the rat-hole of a place. "It was a detective V. I don't know why they keep asking me the same things over and over for the same answer. They never do anything, nor tell me anything. I'm left here to f***ing rot." She could hear the frustration and sadness in his voice. The punk could only imagine what it was like to actually be innocent and stuck in there; clueless of the future, or the next hour even. "How come you don't have a lawyer?" she asked. "At least a public defender or something?"

"They haven't given me that option, nor a phone call. It's been months," he replied sounding as if he would cry. Veronica turned her back to the wall. Thinking it was inhumane for how he was being treated. She didn't even give an f*** about how badly she was being taken care of. Now she actually gave an f*** about him. Totally out of the norm for her. Guess she had a friend now.

"Look, Ian," she spoke as she rested the back of her head against the plain, bare, gray wall. "I'm getting the f*** outta here. You comin'?" She questioned, being completely serious. It had just popped into her head. She would bribe the man in white 'Jose' and he would help them escape. Or maybe she would just threaten to cut his pecker off and force him to help them. Either way, it was going to happen. "Uhh, what?" Ian replied, slightly confused. "We will discuss it at lunch, for now, shut the f*** up and hang onto your cock." She said with a dark chuckle following.