"My Prison-Cure in America", Chapter 12
Adapted from Annemarie Schwarzenbach, by Cleo Varra
Read previous: #11. Over The Threshold
-------------------------------------
-------------------------------------
The Payne Whitney Psychiatric Clinic, White plains, NY-- 1941
It was like that.—
I slid, not even quickly, past the first, then the second cell door, where I saw a nurse, bending over a sick girl, her back turned toward me. The other patients, in their cells, looked past me with no apparent reaction. And there was no guard at the end of the hall.
I didn't have time to marvel at this.
I knew that a nurse would be seated by the front door, and then guards would throw themselves after me from all sides, and it was important not to think about it.
In fact, there stood a guard as I turned the corner: threateningly wide-legged upon the threshold, with one arm gestured against the doorpost. His back was turned towards me, like the nurse’s had been before.
—But if he had heard a noise, then he could have grabbed me by my neck. For a moment I wanted to give into the fear: I couldn't bear it any longer. And by the way, the door was double locked.
How did I overcome this fear?
I don’t know either. I slid past the guard, and was aware that I could have touched his threatening shoulders with my outstretched hand.
I was able to reach the front door in one leap.
There I reached blindly for the lock, and found in it the key.
Nevertheless, I still thought: —And if the key crunches?— If the door doesn't open easily? —But I was already outside.
I heard the door slam from afar.
*****
Next: #13. In The Moonlight
