Page 2 of Distortion
A fancy-looking fountain pen made of wood that I like the look of.
‘Look at me, please.’ The words are polite, but I don’t like them either.
My eyes flick to him and then away.
‘No, Marguerite, into my eyes. We look into each other’s eyes when we speak. That’s one of the rules here.’
But I’m not speaking, I want to say.
I steel myself because I know what he’s doing. John made me look at him often enough. I hate it, but I can do it.
So, I do.
My arms flail as I glance at his eyes quickly and then look away again.
Stoke lets out a soft snort. ‘Well, I suppose that’s the best I can hope for so early on. Let’s begin, shall we? Here, we put our feet on the floor and fold our hands on our knees. Sit up straight with your shoulders back. That’s how we sit. Do you understand what I mean?’
I frown. I didn’t seehimsitting straight with his hands in his lap.
I don’t move. My eyes flit around the room, and I rock a little harder.
Stoke steps closer. He looms over me, and his hands dart out. He pushes my legs down and takes my wrists in an iron grip. It’s gentle but firm.
I balk, rearing back in the seat and making it teeter on two legs for a second before he pulls it forward and he forcibly guides my hands down. He puts them on top of my thighs, his weight baring down on me and making me panic.
‘Here,’ he says calmly.
My fingers straighten and splay out as a cry bubbles up from deep inside of me.
He holds me in the position he’s put me.
‘You will sit like this unless you’re told differently,’ he states while my head swims and I struggle in his grip. ‘Now, we need to put a special belt around your leg. This is foryour wellbeing and for safety of the staff at The Heath, all right?’
He doesn’t wait for me to answer; just looks past me. ‘Around her left leg, please, Douglas.’
An orderly steps forward. He kneels down and carefully rolls my pant leg up. His hands are cold. Like a lizard or a snake. A shiver runs through me as he fastens a band around my calf. It’s tight and has a long, metal piece attached to it.
‘This is called a GED,’ Stoke says, his face much too close to mine as he keeps me in place. ‘Or, some of the staff call it ‘the stinger’.’
I flinch away from him, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
‘We find these helpful in reinforcing the rules at The Heath.’
Douglas, finished with his task, stands and takes a couple of steps back.
Stoke finally lets me go, and my arms immediately flail. I draw my legs up to my chest again.
‘That’s not how we sit here, remember?’ Stoke shakes his head a little in my periphery when I don’t move.
‘Very well. It appears that I’m going to be showing you how it works, Marguerite. I want you to know that this correction will only be administered once today. This is so that I’m sure that you understand the consequence for noncompliance.’
He then looks at the orderly and nods.
Pain courses through my body, and I squeal, falling out of the chair and crumpling to the manila linoleum of the office floor.
When I come to a moment later, the orderly is picking me up gently and depositing me back into the chair. My hands are placed in my lap and, though my fingers splay out, I leave them there.
‘The GED will be activated in two-second burstswhenever you’re in need of correction while you’re here, Marguerite. Now, do you know where you are?’
