Anarchism of an Antichrist
Chapter 2
Jessica had noticed a concerned look in her stepfather's eyes lately. He was a thin, medium sized man with wavy black hair, a mustache, and glasses. His features were considered plain and his voice emanated education and authority. He was a professor at the local university, where he taught linguistics.
Her family was sitting at the dinner table, one evening, when Jessica's step father brought up the subject. He looked around at her, her mother, and her younger half-brother. Then he said, “We're going to have to cut back a bit. My salary at the college isn't what it used to be.”
Her mother added, “We'll have to stop going out to eat and summer vacations are going to be spent with your grandparents.” Her mother was a thin and comely middle aged woman with light brown hair and blue eyes. She radiated a maternal form of that same authority presented by Jessica's father.
Neither of those things were much of an inconvenience for Jessica. She didn't eat much and she preferred visiting her grandparents over inconvenient plane rides, tugging luggage back and forth, only to stay at some distant location for a week. In a soft and sweet sounding high pitched voice, she said, “I'm all right with that.” Jessica was thin with brown hair, hazel eyes, and a cute pointed nose, which, when paired with her voice and her demeanor, caused many of the boys at her Junior High school to adore her. Already, at the age of fourteen, her step father had told more than one boy to stop calling the house.
Jessica's younger half-brother, Stewart, interjected, “I don't like grandma Garland. She smells bad.”
Jessica frowned at her younger brother. He was only eight years old and he didn't know any better. His wavy black hair was in need of a hair-cut and his brown eyes bespoke a spiteful innocence routinely found in spoiled children.
“Make sure you don't say that around her,” piped Jessica's step-father.
“I won't.”
Jessica's mother asserted, “I don't want things like that spoken around me either. If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all.”
A few weeks later, Jessica's mother began to work Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday evenings at a secretarial position, which Jessica's step father had found at the college.
It was the first Tuesday, since her mother had gotten the job and her mother was still at the college, doing paper work, while Stewart was out playing with friends. Jessica was lying in bed, reading a book for an English class, when there was a knock at the door.
“Come in,” said Jessica
Her step father entered the room and shut the door behind him. “I need to speak to you.”
Jessica put her back against the headboard and raised her knees into a sitting position, with her arms around her legs. “About what?”
Her father approached and Jessica felt a slight irksome sensation, as he sat down on the bed. “It's about helping out around the house.”
“What do you want me to do?”
Jessica's step father removed forty dollars from his pocket and laid it down on the bed next to her.
Jessica picked up the forty dollars. “I thought money was tight.”
Something in her step father's face caused Jessica to feel uncomfortable as he said, “I can still do things for you, if you're willing to do some things for me.”
Jessica held out the forty dollars and said, “I don't really need this.”
“It's yours. Keep it. I only want to touch you.” His hand rested on one of her legs.
Jessica shuddered and pushed his hand away. Her voice hinted at a screech as she yelled, “Get out! Get out of my room right now!”
Her step father quickly backed away from the bed. “This is between you and me. Don't you dare tell anyone else about this.”
Tears welled in Jessica's eyes as she said, “I'm going over to Cindy's house.”
Her step father approached the door. “I'd be careful if I were you.”
Jessica wiped the tears from her eyes. Then she went to the kitchen, picked up the phone, and dialed Cindy's number.
“Hello.”
“Cindy, I need to come over. Something just happened.”
“I'm doing homework.”
“It's urgent. Something just happened and I need to talk to you.”
“Sure. If it's important, then come over.”
When Jessica reached Cindy's house, Cindy answered the door. Cindy had long dusty blond hair, dark blue eyes, and attractive facial features, including a radiant smile. Usually, she greeted everyone with a smile, but now she looked worried.
They both went into Cindy's room and Cindy shut the door. “What's wrong?” she asked.
“My step father came onto me.”
“That pervert! What did he do?”
“He gave me forty dollars and touched my leg.”
“You need to call the police.”
“I'm afraid.”
“He's a pedophile. He has to be turned in.”
“He said I need to be careful.”
“That pervert is despicable trying to frighten you. You need to call the police.”
Jessica already felt exasperated and she didn't like the idea of being questioned by the police.
Cindy grabbed her by the shoulders and stared her straight in the face as she asked, “Do you want to continue living with that pervert?”
“No, I don't.”
“Then you call the police and turn him in. There's cola in the fridge if you're feeling tired.”
“Okay. I'll do it. I want some caffeine first though.”
When the two police officers arrived at Cindy's house, Jessica was sitting on the couch, shivering with anxiety. One police officer was a female and the other was a male. They were both pudgy and plain. Their entrance caused her even more anxiety and discomfort.
The female police officer asked, “Can you tell us what happened between you and your father?”
“He came into my room and offered me forty dollars to let him touch me.”
“Do you have the forty dollars?”
Jessica produced the two twenty dollar bills and she said, “Here's the forty dollars he offered me.”
The two officers exchanged glances. Then the male police officer said, “Someone from mental health care services is going to be by shortly to pick you up.”
The idea startled Jessica. “Why would I need mental health care services?”
The female police officer said, “They counsel people in these types of situations.”
“I have Cindy to talk to.”
“Your mother prefers you see a professional.”
“My mother already knows?”
“Yes, she does.”
“Why isn't she here?”
“You'll see her again soon enough.”
There was a knock on the door and the male police officer answered it. Two middle aged mental health care workers in plain clothes entered. One was a slightly plump and homely woman with dark hair and the other was a worn looking man with a graying beard and hair line.
“Who's Jessica?” asked the homely older woman.
“I'm Jessica.”
“We're going to take you to a hospital.”
“But it's a school night.”
“Your mother will call the school for you.”
Jessica looked at Cindy, who retained that worried look in her eyes. Cindy reached out and hugged her and Jessica began crying.
Cindy said, “Everything's going to be all right.”
“I'm scared.”
“He's the one that should be afraid.”
Then Jessica parted from Cindy and looked at the mental health care workers.
“Are you ready to go?” asked the homely older woman.
“If I have to.”
“Good. We'll take you to the hospital.”
Jessica learned that the homely older woman was named Linda and the worn older man was named Ron. They both seemed distant and apathetic to her plight. She'd never felt more alone in all her life than she did during tha
t car ride. What was her mother thinking?
When Jessica saw the sign for the psychiatric hospital and she realized that they were pulling into the parking lot, a quaking panic pulsed through her veins. “Why are we stopping here?”
“This is where you'll be staying until you get better.”
“I'm not crazy. My step father molested me.”
“We're not saying he didn't, but your mother thinks this is the best place for you right now.”
The psychiatric hospital was relatively small, compared to many other hospitals. The lobby was plain and sterile with lamps on polished oaken tables. Ron swiped a card and there was a beep. Then he opened one of the glass doors and the three of them entered into the crossroads of the hospital. Before her and to her right were glass double doors like the ones she had just passed through. Beyond the glass double doors were hallways lined with plain wooden doors. To her left, was another hallway lined with doors, which terminated in another pair of glass double doors.
Ron and Linda led her to the left. “You're going to be staying in the northern wing,” said Ron.
They stopped in front of an open doorway to an office, containing a small table, a desk, a few filing cabinets, and a water cooler. A middle aged woman in slacks, with a matronly frame and plain features sat at the desk, where she was doing paperwork.
Linda said, “The new patient is here.”
The middle aged woman left the desk and approached Jessica with her hand held out. “Hello, Jessica. I'm Dr. Newland.” She shook Jessica's hand. “I'm going to interview you for a while before you're shown to your room.”
“I'm not crazy.”
“Of course you're not.”
Dr. Newland led Jessica to a nearby room, full of chairs, which were gathered in a circle. Dr. Newland took a chair on the right side of the door and Jessica sat in the chair facing her. “How are you feeling?” asked Dr. Newland.
“I'm scared.”
“I assure you, you have nothing to fear.”
“I hope that's true.”
“How would you describe your relationship with your father?”
“He's my step-father.”
“How was your relationship with your step father?”
“It was fine until he molested me.”
“Have you had any problems with your step father before?”
“I haven't.”
“What did he do to make you act the way you did?”
“He molested me.”
“Has he ever done anything like that before?”
“Not that I can remember.”
“How did he touch you?”
“He touched my leg.”
“Did he do anything more than that?”
“No. I didn't let him.”
“Have you been using any illicit substances?”
Jessica paused in trepidation, feeling insulted and threatened by the question. “No.”
“Any cigarettes or alcohol?”
“No.”
“Well, thanks for answering my questions, Jessica. I'll take you back to the office now.”
Dr. Newland took Jessica back to the office, where she rejoined Linda, who led her into the hall.
“I want a lie detector test,” protested Jessica.
“We'll see what we can do about that.” Linda knocked on one of the doors.
“Come in,” said a young female, from within the room.
Linda opened the door and the three of them entered. It was a plain room with three beds and a door on the left, connected to a bathroom shared with the bedroom next to it.
A red haired teenage girl was laying on the bed closest to the window, reading a magazine. Her skin was pale with a radiant complexion, attractive facial features, and an athletic physique.
“I want a lie detector test for me and my step father,” said Jessica. “I'm not crazy.”
The red haired girl gave Jessica a jaded stare.
Linda said, “We didn't say you were. Your mother will be by later this evening with your things.”
Jessica thought about her mother, coming by the hospital after she got off work and she started crying again. “Are my parents paying for this?”
“Don't concern yourself with things like that. We'll be down the hall in the office if you need us. The door is always open.”
Linda left the room and Jessica sat down on the middle of the three beds.
“You think I'm crazy?” asked the red haired girl.
“No, I don't.”
“Why do you want a lie detector test?”
“My stepfather molested me and he's lying about it.”
“I wish I could get the guys that gang raped me to take a lie detector test. Then I wouldn't have to be in here.”
“They just let them do that to you?”
“I was passed out and it's their word against mine.”
“That's horrible.”
“I'm not gonna sign that contract. The guys that raped me should have a gag order against claiming they're innocent.”
“What contract?”
“They want me to sign a contract saying that the sex was consensual.”
“I don't agree with making you sign something like that.”
“Neither do I.” The red haired girl stared at her fixedly. “What's your name?”
“Jessica.”
“I'm Tracy. How old are you?”
“Fourteen.”
“I'm sixteen. I was going to a public high school until I got gang raped at that party. What happened with your step father?”
“He offered me money and started touching me.”
“He should be put in prison for trying to do that with you.”
“I know.”
“I'd scratch his eyes out.”
“I'm afraid to do something like that.” Jessica's eyes were beginning to droop and she laid back on the hard and uncomfortable bed to rest. The discomfort made her think about the softness of her bed at home.
“You should be afraid not to put up a fight. It makes it easier for predators.”
The sheets and the blanket felt stiff and unyielding, as she put the blanket over her body to rest. “You're right. It does make it easier for them, not to put up a fight.”
Jessica dozed off for over an hour.
There was a knock at the door, which roused Jessica. The door opened and Linda looked in.
“Your mother is here,” said Linda.
Jessica rose from her bed and left the room, still feeling drowsy. Linda took her to a conference room, where her mother was sitting at a long table. Jessica cowered at the angry look in her eyes.
“Why did you do that to your father?” her mother asked, sending a jolt of disturbance through Jessica's spine.
Jessica's former drowsiness immediately left and tears sprang to her eyes again. “He molested me.”
“I know that's not true. The police found you with the forty dollars that you stole from him.”
The tears flowed freely as Jessica said, “He gave me the forty dollars and started touching me.”
“You need help Jessica. You need to let go of this childish need to cover up for yourself. Stealing money is a crime. You're lucky it was your father.”
“He's my step-father.”
Jessica's mother grew totally disgusted. “I can't talk to you when you're like this.”
She motioned toward a suitcase and Jessica's backpack, which were set beside the table. “I have your clothes and your school books, so you can study while you're here. When you're ready to admit the truth, you can come home.”
Jessica sobbed as her mother rose from the table and left.
“I'll get your suitcase for you,” said Linda.
Jessica was eager to go back to bed. She rose from the chair and grabbed her backpack.
When Jessica neared her bedroom, she saw Tracy in the hallway, sitting on the ground against the side of an open doorway, opposite a cute teenage boy with short brown hair. The two were obviously flirtin
g.
Linda said, “You're not allowed into the other patients' rooms.”
“I'm not in his room,” replied Tracy, standing and moving away from the entrance.
“The doorway is considered to be part of the room. You know better. It's time for bed.”
“Goodnight, Tracy,” said the boy, staring at her, from the entrance to his room.
“Goodnight, Ethan.”
The three of them entered the bedroom, where Linda put the suitcase on Jessica's bed. Jessica put her backpack next to it and began unpacking things. Everything was now a mess like her wardrobe. Over half her clothes were still in the house with that pervert. How could her mother believe him over her own daughter? She had always been a kind and grateful daughter. Now her life was torn asunder like her things. Everything she took from the suitcase made her think about the comforts of her room at home. Every book she took from her backpack made her worry more about missing classes at school.
Linda looked at Tracy, who was laying down on her own bed. “I shouldn't have to remind you about staying away from the boys' rooms.”
“I didn't go into his room. We were just talking outside his door.”
“You'll remember better than to do that next time?”
“Of course.”
“I'll be in the office if you need me.” Linda left the room and closed the door behind her.
“Fat chance of that,” remarked Tracy.
“Was that your boyfriend?” asked Jessica, wanting to banish her thoughts of home.
“No. He's just a guy that I like talking to. I broke up with my ex when I got in here.”
“Why did you break up?”
“He lied about what happened at the party.”
“That's too bad.”
“Hell yeah it is. Those rapists are getting away with it. I would've never had sex with a single one of them.”
Jessica finished putting her things away and lay back down on the hard and uncomfortable bed, longing for the comfort of her bed at home.
Tracy sighed. “I can't sign that contract. They have to pay for what they've...” A sudden rapping on the door startled Tracy, evincing a brief flash of fear in her features.
A female counselor opened the door and said, “Lights out.” Then she switched off the lights, bathing the room in darkness.
“Good night,” said Tracy.
“Good night.”
The next morning, Tracy taught Jessica the daily routine at the psychiatric hospital. The very first activity of the day was ingesting medications. Then the patients took turns in the shower and ate breakfast in the cafeteria. After that, the patients went to group therapy for a half hour, followed by school work in classrooms, which were located nearby the ward. There was a lunch break, during which they ate in the cafeteria, and after the classes were finished, they returned to the ward to relax or engage in other scheduled activities for the rest of the evening.
Jessica was put on an anti-depressant known as Drozac. She swallowed a small pill with some water in a disposable paper cup shaped like a cone. Then she waited her turn for the shower and ate scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast.
At group therapy, Jessica sat in the same circle of chairs, where Dr. Newland had interviewed her. There were six other teenagers in the circle. Tracy was in the same therapy group and she sat down next to Jessica.
The group therapy leader was a fat, slug like man with pock marks on his face, dark brown hair, and dull brown eyes. “We have a new addition to our group today,” he said. “I'll start by introducing myself and then we'll go clockwise around the circle, all introducing ourselves. My name is Dan.”
“Ruby,” said an African American girl. She had angular, cat like facial features, hard brown eyes, and long black hair woven into braids.
“Tracy.”
“Jessica.”
“Christie,” said a mulatto female with a slightly freckled face. She had a curvaceous body and a meaty, yet cute face with long curly black hair.
“Ethan,” said the cute boy, whom Tracy had been flirting with the night before.
“Tom,” said a scrawny male with plain features, marred by slight acne. He had long hair and wore a heavy metal band t-shirt.
“John,” said a chubby Native American boy, who wore a blue bandana over his head. He was still dressed in his pajamas.
Dan said, “We'll go clockwise around the room again and you all need to discuss something about yourself. If you can't think of anything to say, then you can pass for one day. But you can't just pass two days in a row. If you've already used up a pass, then you have to say something about yourself.” He looked at Ruby. “Do you have anything you want to share with the group, Ruby?”
“I've had enough of Anthony being in this ward.”
“Maybe Anthony has some problems of his own.”
“He's gonna have some problems, when I tell the brothers in my hood what he's been saying to me.”
“You know violence is never the answer, Ruby.”
“I know exactly what she's talking about,” said Christie. “I've seen the way he talks to her and Malika.”
“He's got a problem with colored people,” said Ruby.
“Have you talked to the other counselors about it?” asked Dan.
“Yes, I have. He needs to be put in the Eastern ward with the real crazies.”
“I'll see what I can do about talking to Anthony.”
“You ain't gonna be able to do no more than the other staff with his cracker ass.”
“Anything else you want to tell the group?”
“No. Pass.”
“Your turn, Tracy.”
“Pass.”
“You passed yesterday. You need to share something with the group today. How about that party you've been so eager to talk about lately?”
A gust of fear swept through Tracy's features when Dan mentioned the party. Then she paused for a moment, reaching inward and she said, “I've lost some weight. I've been making sure to eat less at meals and I saw I had lost two pounds this morning. I know it isn't much, but I feel like I've accomplished something.”
“Nothing you want to say about what happened that night?”
“No. I'm done. Pass.”
Dan looked at Jessica. “It's your turn.”
“Pass.”