Seventy-five days of confinement didn’t seem that long in retrospect, but for her it had felt like an eternity of not knowing when, or if, release would come.
It hadn’t taken her long to learn how to play the game, spout the psychobabble required for freedom; the risks of rebellion were incredibly high. She’d seen what happened to those who dared to argue the course of their treatment plan, shock-therapy was still popular in those days.
Paste on a smile, say all is well, agree to every parental desire; nod in pretended understanding of the imported therapist whose command of English was barely enough for basic communication; and whatever you do, don’t be real, don’t tell them how you really think or feel. Bide your time.
Better at their game than they were, her strategy worked, and on the 75th day she won her freedom; at last the healing that would take a lifetime could begin.
This has been a Six Sentence Story, written for Denise’s blog hop at GirlieOnTheEdge. The prompt word we needed to use this week was “release.” Click on the link to read some other great stories, and maybe add one of your own!