Time passed and no one came to get me. I watched as people I became friendly with had terrible procedures done to them that the doctors thought would restore them to good health. I heard the cries of patients. I knew of five electric shock therapy patients and I’d heard rumors of two lobotomies. The patients I became friendly with slowly had the life drained from them. You could tell they were only getting worse by just looking at them. The real problem, though, was that the majority of these people were sane.
One day, Mildred didn’t come to breakfast and Alice was crying at our table.
“Samuel, where’s Mildred? Why’s Alice crying?” I asked.
“Sit down sweetheart,” In the weeks that followed my arrival, Samuel and Alice had taken over as paternal and maternal figures. “The doctors took Mildred for a lobotomy this morning.” He said gloomily.
“But she’s sane!”
“I know, but there’s nothing we can do. We just need to remember her the way she was,”
“I can’t accept that!” I ran from the room and looked around frantically, running through the halls to find the operating room.
“Miss Walsh! Stop!” Nurse Mary yelled. A guard stopped me.
“I have to stop that lobotomy! That girl’s sane!”
“Miss, you’re mother’s here to release you,” sure enough, out stepped my mother, with tears in her eyes.
“Annie,” she whispered.
“Mom, they’re doing a lobotomy on a girl who isn’t crazy, please, you need to stop them!”
“There’s nothing we can do, you need to come. We’re leaving this place.” And so I left that building same the way I’d come in: screaming, kicking, and begging.
“You may now kiss the bride.”