The Vanishing Complex

Chapter 11

Sofia had drawn straight lines, four in a row and one crossing diagonally. Four sets of five lines crowded the corner of a small piece of napkin. She kept it hidden inside of her pillow case. Inspections were irregular, only one since she'd started to keep a calendar of her time spent at the Nest. The Falconers certainly didn't believe in arriving quietly. Their boots gave them away from several feet. While Harper panicked, Sofia took the napkin and stuffed it into her underwear. Getting the pen was the hardest part. They were everywhere yet out of her reach. Every doctor and nurse carried three gold pens; initials engraved into the clip. Sofia used the oldest trick in the book a bump into an unsuspecting nurse. One bump and the little golden cylinder was hers. She read the initials each time she snuck the pen out of a seam she'd torn in her mattress. EZ, yes it had been easy.

In one month's, time, she'd learned the names of the guards who worked her floor. There were seven: Frank, Gerald, Dwayne, Hilda, Jenner, Clare and Denver. Noted on another piece of stolen napkin were their shifts and breaks. They were creatures of habit. Frank, Hilda, and Dwayne were smoking buddies. Gerald was forever taking a leak, Clare and Denver were having an affair and snuck off to the supply closet twice a shift and Jenner was always reading on a chair. Sofia had watched them carefully, memorizing them as if they were characters in her favorite book.

Tuesdays were for group therapy, Fridays for one-on-one, and the rest of the days, blurred together. If it weren't for the tallies, she'd have thought it was all of the same day. Today was Friday, and Falconer Denver had come to pick her up, securing a cord from her waistline to his. His uniform was crumpled. Off at the end of the hallway was Falconer Clare, her hair mussed. Round one completed. They walked down three hallways, each time the patients were different, but she'd taken notice of one. She was young, maybe thirteen, the youngest she'd seen at the Nest. Her hair was black as a raven's feather and pin straight. It was the eyes that had caught her attention, dark brown and hooded, but the deadened stare had struck Sofia. It was the same stare she'd seen on that kid Manny Garcia. Each time she saw her, she was worse off. There was something oddly familiar about her, but she couldn't place it yet. The memory always touched the edge of her memory, but never fully crossed over.

Sofia knew what awaited her, the Release Program. She shuddered at the thought. What she imagined was a nightmare. The pair rounded a corner, Falconer Denver's handcuffs jingling against his hips. Sofia's eyes bounced from room to room. Some were closed while some had patients sitting inside playing chess, reading, or knitting with plastic needles. They rounded another corner, passing by three more sets of rooms. The girl, she hadn't been there. Sofia turned, craning her neck only for Denver to tug her along as they made it to her session room. He lightly pushed her inside, shutting the door behind her.

Seated on a chocolate colored armchair was Dr. Flores. On her lap was her standard black clipboard holding a white legal pad, and in her breast pocket, were three gold pens. She reached for one, twisting the barrel to open it up and wrote the date and time on the top of the legal pad. Sofia plopped down on the opposing sofa chair and curled her legs under her, attempting to appear younger than her years. Their sessions always started with a staring contest, that Dr. Flores always won. Sofia tried to hold on a little longer this time, but just like Tara, Dr. Flores was a force to submit to.

She averted her gaze, taking in a deep breath. A small smile of triumph spread on Dr. Flores' lips, but soon disappeared as she marked another tally on the last page of her legal pad. She liked to keep score. Dr. Flores flipped back to the top page, where she had noted down important questions for Sofia.

"How are you feeling today? You didn't fight Falconer Denver down the hall." She began.

Sofia nodded.

"You've worn me down."

"I wouldn't call it that. I think you're finally becoming comfortable with being here. Maybe you're ready to open up. We've never talked about your sister again since your first day."