Convicted (Consequences)

mirror, smoothing the white cafeteria uniform, she smirked—a bit sarcastically and thought, my life’s ambition is now complete—I have a minimum wage position.
    The first few days of her new job were merely research. She needed to learn the lay of the land and the ins and outs of Everwood. Almost immediately, she learned Claire was listed as Nichols . Claire didn’t participate in group activities, group counseling sessions, or eat in the common dining room. Meals were taken to her room, and the note on the computer indicated that on occasion, feeding assistance was required.
    Apparently, Ms. Nichols sometimes went outdoors accompanied by her therapist, facility staff, or limited visitors. The first time Meredith saw Claire, her long ago sorority sister was returning from such a walk...
     

     
    Claire knew she loved the outdoors. She always had—the wind in her face—the smell of fresh cut grass or newly fallen leaves—kindled warm feelings. She knew it somehow connected to her past—she didn’t know how—or remember a name or a face—but something about nature brought a feeling of security. When she was led outside, she’d close her eyes, wanting to see the world as a new place. Often times, flashes of a man in uniform came and went. Claire assumed these feelings and sense of safety also came from her past. Assumptions were much easier than questions.
    She didn’t question—anything. Claire understood her only access to the fresh breeze or the sun on her skin was when she was accompanied by another person. She didn’t always know the person beside her, but she did know accessing the refreshing outside without someone else was against the rules. She knew all about rules and how to follow them. Oh, it was true that, in the past, she’d made mistakes—used poor judgment—or made poor decisions—decisions that resulted in unfavorable consequences. That’s what Tony taught her—behaviors had consequences.
    Claire preferred positive consequences. Yes, more than once she’d disappointed him. With each passing day, she vowed to not let him down—again. After what she’d done—she wasn’t sure it mattered; nonetheless, since it was all she had left—she wouldn’t let go—she wouldn’t disappoint.
    During her days, people with different faces and different voices came and went. Their words weren’t real, and sometimes the food they delivered wasn’t either. Oh, it looked real. She could even smell the aroma as they entered her room, but if it were real, she’d be hungry. Most of the time, she wasn’t.
    There were people who helped her shower, dress, and fix her hair. At first, she fought their assistance and intrusion; then with time, she chose to accept their help. In a way, it was comforting. She’d been taught the importance of maintaining appearances, and since day-to-day activities were too overwhelming, the assistance of these faceless hands helped her fulfill her responsibility.
    Under no circumstance did she want to disappoint Tony. Sometimes the tears overwhelmed her. After all, she had to live with the reality—she surely disappointed him. Why else would he not make his presence known to everyone? Occasionally, people would tell her he was gone . Claire knew better.
    She knew he was there. Even if the faceless people couldn’t see or hear him—he was there. When he came to her she could truly sleep and dream. She lived for his touch—it took away the suffocating ache that filled her otherwise empty life. Yes, there had been times when they were together that there was pain; however, it was nothing like the pain of not knowing when he’d return; therefore, when they were together, she’d compartmentalize that pain away. While he was there, she’d refuse to show her misery. It would remain her private agony—after what she’d done—she deserved it.
    Claire remembered every word—every syllable he’d ever said. He told her the offer of a psychiatric facility was to protect her. Now, whether she deserved to be or not—she was protected.
    Sometimes people asked her questions. With each inquiry, she’d hear his voice, “ Divulging private information is still forbidden... ”
    She no longer questioned what constituted private information . Whether it was her memories, their history, or what she wanted to eat, she wouldn’t divulge. In an effort to refrain from revealing anything she shouldn’t, Claire chose to not speak. With time, that decision became easier and