Amy's Bid for Freedom

Amy's Bid for Freedom

She glanced around the room from her vantage point under the bed frame, relying on the hanging sheets to shield her. They blocked her view of the bathroom, but they'd never come from there. She'd been surprised before, and wasn't having that again. Her vigilance had paid off, so far this week.

Colorful, the sheets were, and new. Her mother brought a new set every time she visited, passing her feeble offering through the orderlies' hands. She brought brightly colored sheets. Sometimes they had ducks.

Her brown hair, tangled beyond repair, and equally brown, equally tangled eyes shifted as she scanned the room. A continuous circuit. Air vent. Door. Walls. Air vent. Ceiling. Floor. Window. Windows covered in blue-tinted paper. She'd not been able to rest until the blue paper. Light switch. Air vent.

Once, when she'd relaxed her watch, they'd slipped in through the vent. She didn't see, couldn't protect herself. And they came. They flowed up onto the bed, a moving carpet of thousands, over her body, into her ears, her eyes, her mouth. All through her, and she could feel them crawling around her insides, tickling her hairs from within. Tickling, then scratching. Then biting. She could do nothing but scream and claw at her flesh. Hours later, her throat raw, her voice a whisper, her body limp and bleeding, they exited. Back across the sweat-soaked blanket, across the floor, up the wall, and through the vent. They'd proven their point.

Before the blue window paper, they'd come every morning, waiting just inside the duct, testing her defenses.

Other people had breakfast, indolent in their calm, stretching in the optimism of a new day. Morning for her was trial. Would she be strong enough?

"Amy? Where you at, doll?" White soles and ankles stepped briskly to her bedside table. The sound of a tray settled in place. "Meds, darlin'."

The nurse. She shrank back, pulling her toes in. She'd see she hadn't slept, and then she'd make her. They would come back. No. No. Can't happen. She saw the door cracked open. Could she make it? But, then what? More nurses. More meds.

Her eyes skittered around the room, colors and edges blurring, until they paused on the blue-tinted paper. Blue. Blue had saved her before. Cool, soft blue. Like waves.

The nurse had stepped into her small bathroom, with the stainless steel mirror and cold tile shower. She took her chance. Sliding from under the bed, she gained her footing, crouched by the mattress. Checked the nurse. Her soles were squeaking intermittently on the bathroom tile, as she poked around, checked under the sink, pushed back the shower curtain. Not much time. Gathering her strength, her focus, she glared at the blue paper. Imagined freedom.

She surged up, leaping head and elbows into the window, into the blue. The glass shattered, the frame coming partway out of its setting. Ragged flaps of blue paper catching on her, floating into the open air. Sparkling bits of broken glass showered her with sharp-edged sunshine. She flew, arms wide, shadowed eyes lifted to the limitless sky. She was free, flying into the blue.