“A miracle.” He laughed. “No. I’ve quit six times. I went off and did a variety of odd jobs.”
“And you came back?”
“Oh yeah, once my batteries were recharged.”
“Why?”
“I guess I’m a sucker for punishment.” He smiled as he walked out.
4
Emotional Management was the second group of the morning. Jack had already endured an hour of Substance Recovery and having a therapist bring up some bogus record of meth use. He’d gone back and forth, telling them that he had no recollection and when they disagreed he simply pointed to his face and asked them if it looked like he took meth. Meth users were notorious for having rotten teeth, bad skin and being underweight but that clearly wasn’t him. Instead of letting it go, they switched it up and focused on violence, specifically mentioning his attack on Sutton the day before. Eventually he just shut down and refused to answer questions. Instead, he stared out the window looking towards the fencing, plotting an escape.
“Let’s move on, shall we?” The social worker said.
He groaned. Now he would be expected to unload his emotions, and talk about his feelings.
He was beginning to think that perhaps being locked up in prison was better. At least there he could stay in his cell. Here the staff prevented them from going back to their rooms so they could keep an eye on them. He leaned over and whispered into Cowboy’s ear. “You said you get could anything. Right?”
“Mr. Winchester.”
He glanced at the woman.
“Yeah?”
“Do you have something to add?”
“I was just…”
She cut him off and berated him in front of the others before having one of the others in the circle talk. Cowboy leaned over. “I’ll chat with you in the yard.” He gave a nod and continued listening to one of the patients drone on incoherently. They were hard to listen to, most stayed quiet even if they were asked a question while others would talk gibberish or go off on a tangent about things that didn’t even pertain to the objective of the group. It only served to remind him that he needed to get out of there. Had it not been for that crash, he wouldn’t be in this position. Someone had methodically planned this out.
After the session ended, Seth told everyone to head into the yard to get some fresh air. A short bathroom break and Jack was quick to seek out Cowboy who he found throwing a football to another guy across the grassy yard surrounded by a walkway, and a cluster of trees. Psych techs kept an eye on them at all times, stepping in occasionally to stop patients from fighting.
“What do you need?” Cowboy asked.
“A schedule of the security hours. Maybe a blueprint of this place.”
He laughed and tossed the ball. “Why don’t I just hand you the key?” He shook his head in disbelief and his eyes widened as he waited for the ball to come back. “If you think you are escaping this place, think again. No one has done it. Twenty-foot fences, three feet of barbed wire, locked doors, and around the clock armed security. There’s only two ways out of here.”
Jack squinted at him. “Oh yeah?”
“You get the doc to discharge you by telling them what they want to hear or you exit by way of the body bag. And since few are released, and Sutton is looking for you, you stand a better chance of leaving via the Sutton train.” He gave a nod of the head and Jack glanced across the yard to the doorway where Sutton filled it, his shadow looming over the asphalt. He couldn’t believe he was out. Word had already spread that morning of the nurse’s death. After he was wanded down by a guard, he came down the steps and scanned the yard. Jack balled his hands expecting a fight but instead, he simply smirked and ambled over to a group huddled around a picnic table.
“Shouldn’t he have been sent to the pen?”
“What do you think this place is?” Cowboy said. “They’d only send him back. No, they’re not geared up for mental illness in prisons and Sutton is a psychopath.”
“So you kill someone and there are no repercussions?”
Cowboy ran backwards and leaped into the air catching the ball. He let out a lungful of air. “There are always repercussions, Jack. But nothing that a strong dose of Haldol and a five-point restraint can’t handle.”
“So why isn’t he coming over?”
“IM. Incident Management. Every incident gets charted in your file. It can keep you from going to groups, and limits what you can do here. Hell, it can prevent you from an early discharge. Nope! No one in their right mind wants that.”
“But everyone here isn’t in their right mind.”
He chuckled before tossing the ball. “Speak for yourself.” He pointed at a few different people. “There are some in here because they have severe mental symptoms, the rest thought they’d be getting easy street. Crazy, right?”
Jack nodded. “Crazy is the right word.”
Cowboy patted him on the chest. “That’s another reason you don’t want to try escaping. It can really make your life here a living hell.” He raised his eyes and Jack looked up to see Dr. Chapman peering down from his office. He stepped away from the window once he saw they were looking. “Here, hold the ball, I got a few things to do.”
Jack took it and the guy across the field asked him to throw it but he was in no mood. He dropped it and walked off hearing the guy curse. Sticking his hands in his jacket he braved the cold wind and walked over to the heavy mesh fence. A longing for freedom washed over him, but he wasn’t getting out any time soon. A security guard in a golf cart zipped over and told him to stay back. Jack snorted and took a few steps away from the fence. As he made his way back to the building he noticed
