Diary of Jack Rope - Short Story

Diary of Jack Rope, written from inside a mental institution

December 30th 1968

It's been two weeks since I first arrived here, and I’ve yet to get used to this place. The walls feel cold as I pass them each morning on my way to the showers. Frank, who's trying to become my friend, say's that they put ice in the walls to keep us from getting warm and strong, I don’t think I believe him. Once again I ask myself why I’m here, I’m not crazy, they say I have hallucinations whatever that means. For the longest time my wife would get so scared whenever I told her there were people in our house, she wasn’t scarred of them though, mostly of me. Must have been why she checked me in to this place, here I haven’t seen any of the people from back in my house. No but I see creatures, monsters of sorts, when I asked Frank about them he said he saw them too but had gotten used to them, I asked him why the nurses don’t take them away, Frank said only us in this dorm see them. Thankfully they keep to themselves, huddling in groups near the doors, we avoid them at all costs.

Bill has been pushing me around again whenever the nurses are turned away, I can’t do much against him cause of his height. Frank said that Bill comes from the coal mines down south, where his brain got fuzzy and he started destroying machinery and caused a big accident, I think I’m gona try and keep away from him. They let us play cards in here, and I’m always taking Franks money, yet he still comes asking to play another game with me. Today I won fifty greens off him, and hope to double it before the lights go out and we're tied to our beds. That’s another thing that puzzles me, why do they tie us down? I mean, sometimes I wake up to use the bathroom, but when I try to get up and find myself tied down, I panic and they come over and force me to swallow pills. Frank says it’s to keep us from trying to escape, but my wife said I can leave whenever I want to. I think I might ask to go home tomorrow, I don’t like this place much, it scares me. Earlier today Dorian, the vegetable, over on bed 4 died, He went into convulsions around 9 this morning and within five minutes he was dead. The black boys rolled him down the hall in a stretcher, through the door (the monsters let them through) and that was it. No one talked about him again, how strange.

The black boys by the way are the cleaners here, but they also take care of watching over us, and stopping us if we get violent. They force me to have showers in the morning, though all I want to do is stay in bed, even to the point of dragging me to the bathroom. The head of this ward is named Gina Stanforth, though she makes us call her Mrs Stanforth, I think she’s embarrassed about her first name. She’s started holding meetings each day, one hour long, in which she chooses one of us and makes us recount all our problems outside in the real world. I think she’s trying to find the root of she calls our abnormalities. Thankfully she hasn’t called on me yet, cause I don’t want to tell her about the people I see, and have her laugh at me, like so many others have. Besides they’re real I tell you, real. Today she choose Glenburg and I’ve never seen a man’s dignity torn away like she did to his today. She started by asking him what why his parents checked him in here, moving on to why he had tried to kill himself over four times, or why he was so unsocial. Poor Glenburg took it for about 20 minutes before he broke down, first weeping and then getting mad enough to try and attack Mrs Stanforth. The black boys had to haul him away in a straight jacket, he hasn’t come back yet.

Frank told me that he wasn’t happy with this new type of therapy, neither was I. Course Franks been here going on two years now, while this is just my third week. There’s a murmur of dissent running through everyone, I even heard someone say he wanted to escape, but I think its all talk. Most of the guys here are very scared of the outside, I don’t see why, it’s not scary out there. Most of my life I was happy until the strangers came into my house. My wife is supposed to come and see me tomorrow, I’m going to ask her about getting me out of here. Ops bill is walking over here, I think I’ll continue this in the supply closet.

Ok hidden now, there’s a light in this closet so I can see, no monsters in here either. Breakfast has been rather bland, horrid compared to the magnificent omelets my wife used to make for me. I miss her so, she hasn’t come to visit me yet, so I’m really looking forward too tomorrow. After breakfast each morning the nurses give us our pills, some of the guys just pretend to take theirs but really stash them. Frank says they do this for two reasons, the first being they want to sell them to some patients that are addicts. The second is that they’re afraid of what they do to you. I don’t understand why anyone would be afraid. Frank said I’d figure out in awhile. Uh oh someone’s opening the door, I think it’s one of the black boys, I’ll write more tomorrow.

December 31 1968

I’m sitting here in a chair legs tied down, they gave me permission to use my hands so I can write, I’m waiting to be taken upstairs to the shock and chop as the guys call it. I think the real name of the procedure is lobotomy, anyway I’ll tell you why. This morning I was woken up again at the crack of dawn, the black boys had thought it funny to wake us up a half an hour early, and all of us sat in stupors as they tried to get us to shower. Finally and after much prodding and pushing they managed to get us to go with them, well all of us except Shemp. He’s a short but stout older fella, who they say has the brain of a baby, maybe thats why he made such a fuss. He started fighting both the black boys that were in here and it took quite awhile for them to overcome him. The nurse on call came over with a needle and poked him full of drugs, he went limp immediately and the black boys carried him out. I still remember the look on his face, one of agony and sadness.

After the shower we were treated to a better breakfast, maybe it was to make up for the fight with Shemp, anyway it was some good scrambled eggs. That sort of lifted the mood and for the next hour we sat around, playing different games. I started a little poker ring and soon had five guys I betting against, including good ol Frank. The poor guy got so hard in debt, he started trying to bet with cigarettes and then even with little papers saying how much he owed me. I got feeling kind of guilty after awhile so I let him win most of it back. I think he enjoyed it all the same.

When meeting time came round we were all in such a good mood, that it seemed nothing Mrs Stanforth would say could tear us down. Even when she got to me and started shooting me with questions, why was your wife afraid of you? Did you ever physically hurt her? And so on, I answered most of them with a no, or a yes, but a few I had to go into detail about. She asked me whether, I had ever been in a traumatic situation as boy, I told her I didn’t remember. Then she asked why I had burnt down my house. I told her I didn’t know what she meant by that, and that no house I’ve ever been in had burnt down. She told me to stop lying and to tell the truth, and if whether I was afraid of something in that house. It was then that the images came rushing back into my head, scenes of me throwing gas on the house. It was because I was scarred, scarred of those people. I didn’t mean to do it, I didn’t. My wife wasn’t in the house, I was scared, I saw myself light a match and throw it in. It was too much I got too afraid. I started swinging my arms wildly and trying to keep everyone away. I vaguely remember the black boys standing around me, one of them holding a straight jacket. I broke away from them I wanted to get out, I ran towards the door, but the monsters were there blocking it from me, leering down at me, it’s the last I remember.

That’s when I woke up here, they had my hands tied down, but like I said before, I asked if they could free them. Frank passed by here a few minutes ago, said he wasn’t supposed to talk to me, but didn’t care.
He told me that Mrs Stanforth had ordered a lobotomy, and that I should be scared because, when people come back from one, they come back different. I tried to act brave and told him I would be fine, but something in my gut told me to be scarred, that’s when I started thinking back, on when I started the fire. That night I had come home from work, and the house looked different, cold and uninviting. The shades were pulled down and when I went inside, I saw an army of different people. All staring, they weren’t talking, I was so afraid, no one was there to protect me, I can’t remember any more, it hurts too bad.

I’m still sitting here waiting, someone said a new guy is coming in. He would be the first after me. Ah I think this is him now, the door is opening. I expect to see him cower in fear of the monsters, but no. He stands brave, the monsters try to scare him, but he doesn’t flinch. They’re shocked, they don’t know what to do, oh my they’ve just gone up in smoke. They must feed off fear, but this man he’s different then us, he’s brave, he’s happy. The black boys bring him closer. I see that he has red hair and a lot of freckles. He’s also got a strong build, like a man who’s worked out doors his whole life. He’s got a smile on his face and as he passes he winks at me, and says “The name’s R. P. McMurphy my boy, and its nice to meet you”. I stare at him as he walks on, a testament to someone unbroken by the system, and even as the nurse comes to take me away. I think that I can survive this place, if I too have a happy outlook on life.
End.