feel comfort-able with their mental and behavioral problems because they've been a part of them so long.'
'I don't belong here. I don't have any mental or behavioral problems,' I insisted.
'Perhaps not. Let me try something with you to see how you view the world around you, okay? Maybe that's all we'll do today and give you a chance to acclimate yourself to your surroundings more. No rush.'
'Yes, there is a rush. I've got to go home.'
'All right. We'll begin. I'm going to flash some shapes on the screen in front of you. I want you to tell me what comes to mind instantly when you see each one, okay? Don't think about them, just react as quickly as you can. That's easy, right?'
'I don't need to do this,' I moaned.
'Just humor me then,' he said, and snapped off the room light. He turned on the projector and put the first shape on the screen. 'Please,' he said. 'The faster we do this, the faster you can relax.'
Reluctantly, I responded.
'It looks like the head of an eel.'
'An eel, good. And this?'
'Some kind of hose.'
'Go on.'
'A twisted sycamore limb . . . Spanish Moss . . . An alligator tail . . . A dead fish.'
'Why dead?'
'It's not moving,' I said.
He laughed. 'Of course. And this?'
'A mother and a child.'
'What's the child doing?'
'Breast-feeding.'
'Yes.'
He flashed a half-dozen more pictures and then put on the lights.
'Okay,' he said, sitting across from me with his notebook. 'I'm going to say a word and you respond immediately again, no thought. Just what comes first to mind, understand?' I just looked down. 'Understand?' I nodded.
'Can't we just see Daphne and end this?'
'In due time,' he said. 'Lips.'
'What?'
'What comes to mind first when I say, 'lips'?'
'A kiss.'
'Hands.'
'Work.'
He recited a few dozen words at me, jotting down my reactions and then he sat back, nodding.
'Can I go home now?' I asked.
He smiled and stood up. 'We have a few more tests to go through, some talking to do. It won't be too long, I promise. Since you have been cooperative, I'm going to permit you to go to the recreation area before lunch. Find something to read, something to do, and I'll see you again real soon, okay?'
'No, it's not okay,' I said. 'I want to call my daddy. Can I at least do that?'
'We don't permit patients to use the telephones.'
'Will you call him, then? If you just call him, you'll see he doesn't want me to be here,' I said.
'I'm sorry, Ruby, but he does,' Doctor Cheryl said, and pulled a form out of the file. 'See? Here is his signature,' he said, and I looked at the line to which he pointed. Pierre Dumas was written there.
'She forged it, I'm sure,' I said quickly. 'She's going to tell him I ran away. Please, just call him. Will you do that?' He stood up without replying.
'You've got a little time before lunch. Get acquainted with the facilities. Try to relax. It will help us when we meet again,' he said, td opened the door. The attendant was waiting. 'Take her to the recreation room,' Doctor Cheryl told him. The attendant nodded and looked in at me. Slowly, I rose.
'When my father finds out what she did and what you're doing, you're going to be in a lot of trouble,' I threatened. He didn't reply and I had no choice but to follow the attendant back down the corridor to the recreation room.
'Hello, I'm Mrs. Whidden,' a woman attendant no more than forty said, greeting me at the door. 'Welcome. I'm here to help you. Is there something in particular you would like to do . . . handicrafts, perhaps?'
'No,' I said.
'Well, why don't you just go about and look over every-thing until something strikes your fancy. Then I'll help you, okay?' she said. Seeing no point to my constantly protesting, I nodded and entered the room. I walked about,
