The worst part of losing an illusion is that we will never get it back in its fullness, and Meg had lost all her illusions. She had witnessed the man she loved marry someone else and live unhappily, having no memory of James smiling beside Angelina. He always seemed impatient and moody. In addition, Meg was the victim of a conspiracy that would force her to marry a despicable man, and now she was trapped in a hospital that looked more like a prison. The day had not even dawned when Meg was abruptly awakened. Like all patients, she started the day with a brief prayer. "You are going to another ward of our hospital," said a nun. "Another ward?" questioned Meg, perplexed by the news. "Yes, the room you were in was meant for your quarantine. You are now cleared to socialize with the other patients," the nun explained. Meg had spent all morning carrying firewood to supply the kitchen, her delicate hands that used to play the piano were now being punished with manual labor. When the
Meg walked with quick steps down the long hallways. She was carrying a few pieces of wood to fuel the fire in the mother superior's room. At that moment a wave of childhood memories flooded her mind. She had lived for a few years in an orphanage and had learned the lessons necessary to survive in that environment. She learned that being passive would make her a target for cruelty, but she also knew that constantly fighting would draw too much attention. To survive in such places, it was necessary to adopt an almost invisible stance, balancing between these extremes and having allies. She entered the luxurious room with the bundle of firewood in her arms, she was so tired that she almost knocked them over as she closed the door, but held it tighter as she heard exalted voices coming from another room. "But, that's not right," a female voice shouted in the other room. "There's nothing to do," the other spoke up. "We have to stop." Meg looked at the table set up under the win
It was late at night and James' office was shrouded in darkness, lit only by the faint glow of the lamp on his desk. The air was infused with the distinctive aroma of the cigars that James loved and his wife hated. In recent weeks he had intensified his addiction, just to get her away from his office. He wanted and needed to be alone. James was smoking and drinking whisky when Ava knocked on the door, looking frightened. "Sir, there's a man here who insists on seeing you," she informed him, keeping her voice calm but with a trace of anxiety. "Who is he?" asked James, taking a puff of his cigar. "Mr. Peter," replied Ava. "Let him in and make sure there are no interruptions," James instructed, keeping his expression serious. "Excuse me," said Ava before stepping aside and allowing the visitor to enter. A middle-aged man with gray hair and a wrinkled face entered the office, holding his hat close to his chest. He was wearing a dark suit that matched his serious expression and his
Meg adapted quickly to her new reality. She was a survivor and she was going to keep trying. She, Dorothy and Sophia became inseparable in no time and that helped time pass more quickly. In the cafeteria, she forced herself to swallow a stew of dubious origin. It was forbidden to waste food, even if it tasted terrible. But Dorothy always scraped her plate and kept the crumbs. A hurried nurse with a hard look approached them. "Come on," she said to Meg, who quickly got up from the table. "Where are you taking me?" asked Meg, curious and apprehensive. "The doctor needs to examine you," replied the nurse without patience, pushing her into a room. "I'm not sick," she protested. A doctor who was not an employee of the institution was there, along with the mother superior and two nuns. "Take off your clothes and lie down on the bed," the doctor ordered sternly. "All your clothes?" she asked in confusion. "Yes, you're deaf," replied the mother superior. "No." The mother lo
In the dining room, the soft light of the morning sun filtered through the lacy curtains, creating a false serene atmosphere. James grimaced and pushed his breakfast plate aside, complaining of the severe heartburn that was afflicting him that morning. He looked worriedly at Angelina and pondered aloud: "Doctor Radcliff hasn't returned from his trip yet. Perhaps you could advise your doctor to examine me." Angelina, visibly uneasy, questioned: "My doctor? I'm not sure that would be safe." She played nervously with the rim of her teacup, her eyes showing anxiety. With a reassuring gesture, James replied: "He's a doctor, isn't he? What's the problem?" However, Angelina hesitated before speaking again, explaining: "Well, he usually only sees women." James looked at her seriously and then declared: "I'm going to work." He tried to caress Angelina's belly, but she shied away. As her belly grew, she became more reserved, going so far as to sleep in separate rooms, claiming that sh
Meg and Sophia were exhausted and their hands were sore. They had worked until they almost fainted because they had shared their food with Dorothy. As punishment, they had to clean all the rooms in a disused wing. They carried buckets and brooms under the watchful eye of the guards. The nurse opened the last door at the end of the corridor and pushed them inside. "Let's hurry! Tidy up this room quickly! We're about to receive another young misfit," she exclaimed in a firm voice. Meg hurried to put clean sheets on the bed, and noticed bloodstains on the wall as her colleague swept the floor. "It's a shame," whispered Meg. "Did you say something?" asked a nurse, tapping her on the back with her broom. "No," Meg replied, cringing in pain. It was a small room, with no light or ventilation, reserved for new inmates in their first days, when they were still getting used to the sad reality of being prisoners for the rest of their lives. A feeling of sadness invaded her as she wonde
Meg was in a desperate situation, unable to accept that her life was coming to such a sad end. She was confined to a hospital, against her will, and escaping from there seemed an almost impossible task. The cold, dirty walls of the institution were riddled with doors and padlocks. The high walls and the constant vigilance of the numerous guards outside aggravated the feeling of imprisonment. With each passing day, her hope of escaping diminished. As Meg and her friends, Dorothy and Sophia, swept the vast hospital courtyard, hunger set in. "I'm hungry," complained Dorothy. Sophia sighed and replied: "We can't get bread for you anymore, Dorothy." Meg whispered worriedly: "They're watching us all the time." Dorothy, curious, asked: "Has anyone had a chance to see the new patient yet?" The three women directed their gazes towards the end of the building, in the ward reserved for pregnant women. Meg replied: "She arrived here last night." Just then, two guards approached and gra
Meg was assigned to empty the potties of the newly arrived patient. This is still part of her punishment for stealing food. However, she would have preferred this task to being physically assaulted. But it was Dorothy herself who received the harshest punishment: in addition to chopping wood all day, she would go without food for five days. "You have five minutes to empty the potty and bring it back." When the door was opened and a little light entered the room, Meg saw a woman tied to the bed, covered in old, torn sheets, who was crying non-stop. Her face was against the wall and all Meg could see were two staples in her hair and the deep marks on her wrists. Meg picked up the potty and left quickly. "Feed her. We can't untie her. She's too violent," said one of the nuns. Meg picked up the tray with porridge and bread. She approached the bed. "I brought your food. It looks bad, but it tastes good," she said mildly. The porridge itself was a viscous, white mass with no sme