Hero

Chapter Eight

Natsinet had stood by the living room window, watching through the curtains as Tonya got into her car and drove away.

She surveyed the neighborhood below her quickly, frowning as she did so. What a hellhole. To have accomplished so much in life—setting aside this woman’s criminal past—and to live in such squalor! Natsinet did not understand why somebody of Adelle’s supposed stature would want to live here. It was people like her that made the whole so-called Civil Rights thing a farce. They complained about being mistreated a hundred and forty years after slavery ended, whined about not getting the jobs they felt they deserved, yet they remained in these crime-infested hovels and preyed on each other. If Adelle Smith had really spent so much time helping inner-city youth, not to mention inspiring other Black people to do the same, why was there still so much rampant crime in the older sections of major cities like Philadelphia? Why didn’t these people get off their asses and do something with their lives instead of whining and complaining about not being treated fairly?

Thinking about it, knowing she had to spend the next five days caring for this old, worthless woman was not a good thing.

It was infuriating. These were the same people she’d had to deal with everyday in the ER. They were the same people who’d…

Natsinet stormed away from the windows and paced the living room. Her eyes swept the room, taking in the sofa and easy chair, the TV, the end table with framed photographs and what looked like a trophy. Natsinet picked up the trophy and read the inscription. For significant contributions toward the Civil Rights Movement. The NAACP award.

A police siren warbled from outside, soon joined by another. Probably another homicide. So many goddamn animals in the inner-city, they were like rats crammed in a cage. And when too many rats were in a cage together, they fought and eliminated the weaker. Survival of the fittest.

Good riddance, Natsinet thought as she headed to the master bedroom.

Adelle had been coming to a slow sense of wakefulness the past few minutes and now she opened her eyes. She knew she was in her bedroom, knew Tonya wasn’t here. The last thing Adelle remembered was her conversation with Tonya at the hospital when her daughter told her that she would try to hang around the apartment until she woke up, that she would try to drop in later in the week.

“They’ve got me at these board meetings every day this week and Gerald is teaching class in the evenings,” she’d told her. “I’ll try to bring Tess over some night, but I know the earliest I can get away will probably be Friday.”

Today was, what? Monday? Adelle and Tonya had had that conversation this morning, a nurse had given her something to help her sleep, and the next thing she remembered was Tonya telling her that she would follow the ambulance on the ride to the apartment.

And now she was home.

Somebody was here though, and Adelle tried turning her head to see who it was. Her left side felt completely numb, and it took considerable strain to lift her right arm into a more comfortable position across her abdomen. She was able to shift her head slightly on the pillow and for a minute her vision swam as her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the room. A light-skinned Black woman dressed in a nurse’s uniform entered the room and approached her bedside. The home care nurse.

The nurse wouldn’t look at her as she checked her pulse and heartbeat and made notations in a chart. “You had a nice nap?” the nurse asked. “How do you feel?”

Adelle struggled to speak. “…’kay…”

The nurse continued writing in her chart. “Good. I’ll be preparing your dinner in about an hour. Chicken Soup.”

“Pay… per…” Adelle managed to say. The nurse looked at her and Adelle motioned to a notepad and a pen lying on the bureau. “Pen.”

The nurse retrieved the pen and paper and set them on Adelle’s stomach. Adelle gripped the pen and began to write. “I’m sorry my speech is limited. What’s your name?”

“My name is Natsinet Zenawi,” the nurse said.

Adelle smiled. Or tried to, at least. “What a beautiful name,” she wrote. “Let me guess… Ethiopian?”

There was the faintest hint of a frown on the nurse’s face. “No. I am Eritrean. Two separate countries.”

Now it was Adelle’s turn to frown. She wrote again. “I’m sorry. My mistake. So much tragedy has occurred in that country… so many changes—”

“Actually, it doesn’t matter to me where I come from,” the nurse said, overriding Adelle’s train of thought. “I’m here to care for you for the next five days. Is there anything you need?”

Adelle thought about it, trying not to let her dismay show. This woman had a curt edge to her she found disconcerting. She flipped a page up to a new sheet, then wrote, “When does my physical therapy start?”

There was no mistaking that frown now. “Uh uh,” Natsinet said, shaking her head. Her irritation turned swiftly to anger that seemed to come from nowhere. “No, I’m not doing that. It’s not what I signed up for.”

Adelle gave a startled gasp. The doctors and nurses at the hospital told her she would have in-home nursing and physical rehabilitation. Tonya had brought in a combined nurse and physical therapist from Hospice Nursing in Philadelphia—the best in the state. She didn’t understand. “I thought —” She started writing.

“You thought nothing,” Natsinet said, and there was no mistaking the venom in that voice now. “If you’d had an original thought in your wrinkled head, you would have moved out of this hell-hole years ago. I am not providing you with physical therapy. Fuck that and fuck you!”

Adelle gasped again. She couldn’t believe this woman had cursed her. Quickly gaining her composure, she scribbled on the paper. “Fine. Please bring me the phone. I need to make a phone call.”

“And report me? Fuck you again.” And with that Natsinet leaned over the bed, grabbed Adelle beneath her armpits and hauled her out of bed. Adelle gave a mangled yell; her right arm flopped uselessly as she tried to maneuver it to strike at the younger woman, but she was too weak.

“You want physical therapy?” And before she knew it, Natsinet dragged her out of the bed and threw her to the floor. She hit the hardwood floor hard, coming down on her right forearm, hip, and shoulder. A flare of agony stabbed into her right side, and as she tried to struggle into a position to hoist herself up she flopped over on her stomach in a truly helpless position. Help me, she thought, not even aware of the pain that wracked her right side and her wrist.

“There you go.” Natsinet said above her. “Now climb back into bed yourself! How’s that for physical therapy?”

Adelle was certain she blacked out at that point. Her next memory was lying in bed—how she got there she had no recollection of, but Natsinet had obviously gotten her back in somehow. The nurse was standing beside her, a smirk on her face.

Please, Adelle thought.

Natsinet leaned over her. “You are not going to spread false rumors about me…correct?”

Adelle could only look at the nurse, her eyes growing wide with terror. There was no sense of compassion in the younger woman’s face. No sense that she’d done anything wrong.

“Did you hear what I just said?”

Trembling, Adelle moved her head slightly. A nod. Yes.

“Good. Nobody will believe you anyway. The medication you are on has a possible side effect of hallucinations.”

For the first time Adelle realized her pad of paper and pen were gone. Tears of frustration and rage welled from her eyes. She felt trapped in this body that was now broken and useless. Her right side and wrist ached with a dull throb.

“You are going to lie here and do nothing,” Natsinet continued. “You will eat when I feed you, urinate and shit when I take you to the bathroom, and sleep when I tell you to. And that’s about all you are going to get from me. If I can find a way to avoid touching you at all I will. Furthermore, when my five days are up you will say nothing to nobody. Remember, you will be so doped up that nobody will believe you. And I’m only off for two days so I’ll be back and I’ll know if you’ve been talking.”

They’ll believe me alright you hateful woman! Adelle thought.

“Remember… you’re under my care now.” Natsinet’s face was pure evil. “You can complain all you want, but this time complaining and bitching won’t do shit for you.”

What the hell is she trying to say? Adelle thought.

Natsinet continued her rant, as if she knew what Adelle was thinking. “Oh yes, I know all about you. Big Civil Rights leader. Bitch and complain about how the White man is holding you down, the White man won’t let you po’ Black folks get ahead!” Natsinet’s voice adopted a mocking ghetto-speak. “Well guess what, sister? That’s your damn fault! You had all the chances in the world and here you are still stuck in the ghetto with the animals. And they’re still animals. Out there killing each other every night. Rutting like pigs and creating more little bastards for the welfare system. This is what your little Civil Rights movement left behind. You took away all of their excuses and they still haven’t done shit with their lives. All people like you ever did was cry and moan and complain about equality and yet you never assimilated into society. You still live and act like savages. And don’t tell me about how you haven’t had the same opportunities or how the legacy of slavery destroyed the Black man’s sense of identity and self-worth or destroyed the Black family structure. You fools did this to yourselves! You stayed in these slums and fed off your own people. Your men killed each other, sold their women. Black men didn’t protect their women during slavery. They let the White man rape and abuse them. They didn’t protect their children, and they don’t now. They—”

Adelle was so angry at the nurse’s rant that she lashed out. Her right arm flew out and she grasped Natsinet’s left wrist. If she’d had the ability for speech she would have let loose with a hearty, “Fuckin’ bitch, I’m gonna kick your ass!” What came out instead was a muffled “Fffff—”

Natsinet jerked her wrist away. “What the fuck? You think you can hit me?” And then before she knew what was happening Natsinet punched her in the face with her bony fist, driving her head down into the pillows.

If it hadn’t been for the stroke Adelle was sure she would have felt greater pain from the blow, but she didn’t. She was more surprised by the ferocity of the blow, by the fact she’d been punched in the face by her home care nurse at all. Barely aware of the thin trickle of blood leaking from her nose, Adelle glared at Natsinet, who loomed over her, fists clenched. “I oughta beat the fuck out of you, old bitch!”

Adelle glared at her defiantly. Go on. Hit an old disabled woman. I dare you!

Something in Natsinet’s features changed. Her look of fierce anger once again changed to cunning evil. She grinned. “I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking you’re gonna wait out the five days I’m here with you and then you’re gonna complain to somebody and I’ll be dealt with. That ain’t gonna happen. I’m not gonna give you that chance even if I have to keep you drugged out of your mind the entire time.”

She leaned closer to Adelle. She reminded Adelle of a deadly snake about to devour its prey. “I’m the only person you’re going to see until the other nurse comes to relieve me in five days. You are entirely dependent on me now, to eat, to go to the bathroom, to get your medications, to wash your stinking Black ass. Your life depends on me. You piss me off and by tomorrow you’re gonna wish I was dead. By the end of the week, you’re gonna wish you were dead.”

Oh my goodness, she’s going to torture me! Adelle thought. She couldn’t help herself. Pure panic flooded her system. She felt her bladder give way. She was too terrified to even be embarrassed.

Adelle noticed the growing stain of urine on the bedsheets. Her upper lip turned up in a snarl of disgust.

“You’re just going to have to lie in it. I’ll be damned if I’m changing those sheets. You people are like a bunch of animals!”

You people? Obviously the woman has not looked in the mirror lately, Adelle thought.

Despite her “high yella” complexion and her green eyes, her lips and nose were unmistakably Black as was her thick wooly hair. The woman had some serious self-hatred going on and she was going to take it all out on Adelle.

Why is she doing this to me?

Adelle remembered something she’d heard one of the Pastors at her church say before one of the many marches she’d attended in her youth.

“Everyone is the hero of their own story. No one is just evil. Even the most hateful, most racist redneck in the South believes in his heart that he is doing what is right. You have to find out why he believes that way before you can change his mind.”

Back then Adelle had no desire to understand racist rednecks. She hadn’t believed in desegregation. She tended to side with the Black Nationalists of the era who believed the White man to be a devil whose sole purpose was to oppress and ultimately destroy the Black race. She was wiser now. Now she knew that old preacher had been right. Everyone thinks their opinion is the right one. Their actions justified. But for the life of her she could not figure out what justification this woman could possibly have for striking an old paralyzed woman. It made no sense to her. Her mind kept going back to the simple solution: she’s just evil. But that thinking left nothing to appeal to. It left no hope at all. If Natsinet was just evil or crazy, then Adelle was a dead woman.

Maybe her Black daddy walked out on her when she was a child or her mother left him for someone her own color? Maybe her mother was Black and her daddy was some rich White guy out for a one night stand who won’t have anything to do with his illegitimate Black baby? Whatever her issues, it doesn’t excuse her behavior. She’s going to pay for this.

Then Adelle had another thought that halted her breath and chilled the blood in her veins: Unless she kills me before I can tell anyone. Who would know if she made it look like an accident or natural causes?

Adelle looked at the woman’s soulless eyes and there was nothing in them that gave any indication of compassion or humanity. She might as well have been looking into the eyes of a shark or some predatory reptile.

She’s going to kill me.

Adelle was as sure of it now as she’d ever been about anything in her life. This woman was going to murder her and Adelle had no idea why.

The nurse stomped out of the room leaving Adelle alone with her fear.

Oh my God. What do I do?

The realization of what had just happened and what was likely to happen during the next five days left Adelle stunned. She stared straight ahead at the open bedroom door that might as well have been locked and guarded for all the use it was to her, at the window less than six feet away from where she was lying, also no use to her. Even if she could get to it she would not be able to call for help. Her words were still all garbled and she could barely speak above a whisper.

Adelle looked frantically around the room, for some type of weapon or something she could use to call for help. There was a framed picture of her standing on the steps of the Washington Monument with Huey P. Newton on one side of her and Eldridge Cleaver and Bobby Seale on the other. She was dressed in a black beret, a black leather jacket, and dark sunglasses, her afro spanning from shoulder to shoulder. She was raising one black gloved fist into the air in the “Power to The People” salute while Bobby Seale gave one of his fiery speeches. What the picture didn’t show were the battalions of police in riot gear directly across from them preparing to bust their heads. Adelle had been young and fearless then. The frame was made out of pewter. If she could somehow get to it she was confident that even in her weakened state, she could brain that psychotic nurse with it.

On another wall was a picture of her with her late husband, Walt. He was in a business suit and they were at a conference in New York hosted by Betty Shabazz, Malcolm X’s widow. He had been such a handsome man then. Tall and strong with a big barrel chest and thick arms. She’d always felt so safe in his arms. She wished that he were here now to protect her, but he’d long ago fallen victim to the streets. He’d gotten hooked on heroin during his tour in Vietnam like so many of the young men from her generation. He’d OD’d not long after Tonya was born. Now Adelle was alone except for her daughter and she would not be back to see her for at least another twenty-four hours, maybe even a few days. She doubted Tonya would be calling anytime soon either, because she knew that Adelle was having difficulty speaking and even if she did, Adelle was sure the nurse would intercept it. That meant that at least for the next twenty-four hours she was all on her own.

Adelle pulled a bobby pin out of her hair. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but it was something. She bent it and then raised it to her lips and began trying to gnaw off the little rubber bulbs on the ends of the metal pin. Her jaw muscles wouldn’t work right so it took her almost twenty minutes to finally get the rubber off. She was sweating and tired by the time she’d managed to chew off the ends and straighten it out. She hid it back in her hair and felt only slightly safer. She continued looking around the room for something else she could use. Everything was too far away from her, impossible to get to. She remembered Tonya telling her she’d moved her guns and wished now she hadn’t done so.

Five days until the next nurse came. Adelle wasn’t sure she could make it. Her only hope was that her daughter would check on her soon. Adelle wasn’t afraid of the nurse’s threat of retaliation. Once Tonya got wind of what was going on, this woman would be in jail, if not in the hospital herself. Tonya had grown up on these streets as well, and no matter how much she’d gotten used to her cushy life in the suburbs, when she got mad all the street came right back to the surface. Adelle smiled as she thought of what Tonya could do to Natsinet. It was her only comfort in what she knew would be a long night.

Natsinet came back into the room with a syringe and Adelle’s eyes widened as the nurse grabbed her left arm, jerked it out straight and jabbed the needle into the vein on the inside of her elbow in one swift move.

“Naaaaa! Naaarrrgh!” Adelle tried to grab the woman’s wrist with her good hand but it too felt weak and helpless. She tried to swing her fist at her and received a hard smack across the face for her efforts that made her vision cloud and her pulse race dangerously high. She was suddenly afraid of having another stroke.

The nurse swatted Adelle’s hand away and pushed the plunger down on the syringe. Moments later Adelle felt a warmth spreading up her arm, then she began to feel dizzy. She pulled the straightened bobby pin out of her hair and jabbed it at Natsinet but the woman was no longer sitting on her bed and the pin stabbed into thin air then tumbled from her fingers onto the floor. There was a satisfied look on the nurse’s face that convinced Adelle that she would probably not be waking up. She said a silent prayer for her daughter as she drifted away. And a wish that Natsinet would be made to pay for her death.

Sunlight pierced between the blinds on the windows, illuminating the bits of dust in the air, making them look almost beautiful. Adelle could tell by the angle the sun struck her windowsill that it was past eight o’clock in the morning. She normally woke up no later than six am. She’d overslept.

Adelle tried to rise and was momentarily confused when her left arm refused to cooperate; it felt as if it weren’t even attached to her, as if she’d fallen asleep on it and squashed all the blood out of it. Only there wasn’t that pins and needles sensation she normally got when she slept wrong, this was just numbness and weakness as if there were no strength at all in her muscles. She tried to push herself up with her right arm and pain shot through her shoulder, collapsing her back down to the bed.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Then she slowly remembered where she was, what had happened to her. The hospital, the ambulance, and then waking up with that psychotic nurse. Her cheek hurt where the nurse had struck her and her right shoulder cried out in pain. She was in danger. More danger than she had ever been in on the streets, or even back during the civil rights marches confronting police officers with attack dogs, clubs, and guns. This woman was in her own home and for the first time in her life, Adelle was practically helpless. There was nowhere for her to go, nothing she could do.

At least I’m still alive.

When the nurse injected her last night Adelle had been sure she’d been poisoned.

She looked over on the nightstand and instinctively reached for the phone to call her daughter. The phone was gone. Ripped out of the wall. Adelle vaguely remembered the nurse throwing the phone across the room last night in her rage. It would be no use to her anyway. Her tongue still lolled uselessly in her mouth and her jaw on the left side hung down, the muscles unresponsive. She wasn’t sure how she’d even manage to chew her food without it spilling out of her mouth, let alone tell anyone what was going on, even if she had a phone.

Natsinet bounded into the room bubbling with enthusiasm as she brought Adelle her breakfast. “Good morning, Mrs. Smith. How are we this morning?”

Adelle’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as she looked from Natsinet to the plate of warm oatmeal she held. The Nurse’s demeanor had completely changed. The woman she met yesterday had been sullen and dangerous like a viper coiled and waiting to strike. There’d been no warmth in her at all. Seeing the woman flitting about opening the drapes and smiling ear to ear was disconcerting. It made Adelle even more convinced that the woman was crazy.

“I know I came down a bit hard on you yesterday and I apologize. It seems I’m going to be with you for quite a while. The doctor says that it could be six weeks, six months, or even six years before you regain your strength. Something else my agency forgot to tell me about, like the fact that your speech was impaired and that you were more than just slightly paralyzed on your left side. They said you can use a walker to get around. Can you?’

Adelle shook her head slowly, still staring at the woman perplexed, trying to figure out if she was serious.

“That’s what I thought.”

Adelle noticed just the slightest glimmer of anger flash in the nurse’s eyes before she pulled her mask back into place.

“We might as well learn to get along, then. I’ll help you get back up on your feet, because the sooner I do that, the sooner I can get out of this hell-hole. You wanted physical therapy? Well, you’re going to get it. I warn you, though. I’m not going to take it easy on you. The doctor said that you’ll be able to walk using a walker in six to eight weeks with intensive physical therapy. He gave me a whole series of exercises he wants me to put you through three times a week, but I’m thinking more like twice a day. I don’t have time to waste while you lie around in bed all day. And I’m adding a few exercises of my own as well.”

Adelle didn’t like the sound of that at all. She motioned for a pen and paper. Natsinet reached into a drawer by the nightstand and handed them to her.

“When did the doctor come?” she wrote.

“While you were sleeping. I gave you a mild sedative after you passed out so that you could get a good rest, and then I called the doctor. I told him about how you’d fallen out of bed. That old bastard had the nerve to look at me like it was my fault. It isn’t my fault that you’re so clumsy. I know it isn’t your fault, either. You’re paralyzed. Not your fault, is it?”

Adelle shook her head.

“Or maybe it is. Maybe your stroke was the result of poor circulation, arteries clogged with fat from not exercising and eating fried chicken and pork. In which case your clumsiness is your fault, now isn’t it?”

Adelle shook her head vehemently and scribbled furiously in her pad. “Your fault! I didn’t fall. You pushed me! You hit me!!!”

Natsinet snatched the pad out of Adelle’s hand and tore it to shreds. Adelle winced, afraid the woman would strike her again.

“I told you not to spread lies! How are we going to get along if you keep lying like that?”

Adelle stared at the woman, trying to figure out if she was really crazy, if she really didn’t remember punching her in the face and yanking her out of her bed onto the floor. There was a smirk on the nurse’s face. That told Adelle all she needed to know. The woman wasn’t crazy, at least not that way. She remembered everything she’d done to her. She was just playing with her, enjoying the power she held over her, trying to mess with Adelle’s mind. No, not crazy. Evil.

Not evil either. Adelle reminded herself. People aren’t evil. They may be misguided, confused, hurting, mentally or emotionally impaired, but not evil. There’s a reason she’s doing this, a reason that makes sense only to her.

“Oh, your daughter stopped by also, but you were sleeping and I told her it was best not to disturb you. Too bad you missed her. She said she’ll be back to visit again this weekend. She’s got some big project she’s working on at her job. But she promised to call every day to check on your progress. I’ll make sure to keep her well informed.”

When the nurse smiled it looked to Adelle like one of those vampires in the horror movies baring her fangs. Natsinet dipped a spoon into the oatmeal and shoved it into Adelle’s mouth, pushing it all the way to the back of her mouth. The warm lump clogged her throat. Adelle almost suffocated as she tried to force her partially paralyzed mouth to chew before she gagged on the food. As soon as she swallowed and sucked in a big lungful of air another thick spoonful was jammed into her mouth.

Oh Jesus, give me strength. Help me, Lord.

Adelle gagged and choked several times as Natsinet continued to shovel the tasteless gruel into her mouth. When Adelle wretched and regurgitated most of what she had eaten, the nurse stormed angrily out of the room. It was several hours before she returned and by then the room smelled rancid, sickening sweet from the putrefying vomit.

“It smells like a pigsty in here!” Natsinet announced, curling up her nose and covering it with her sleeve. “I guess I’d better clean you up a bit before we begin physical therapy.”

Natsinet grabbed the soiled sheets and jerked hard, dumping Adelle onto the floor again. Ignoring Adelle as the old woman rolled back and forth on the floor moaning in pain, Natsinet stripped the bed and left the room to toss the bedding into the washing machine down the hall.

Adelle tried to crawl. Her shoulder was screaming in pain but she ignored it. Her right leg felt strong but, with her left arm useless and her right shoulder injured, she couldn’t even manage to push herself up to all fours. She fell over onto her back, letting out another hoarse yelp as her head struck the thinly-carpeted floor. She’d never felt so helpless in her life. She began to weep silently, hating herself for it, feeling even more miserable and useless with each tear. When she looked up, Natsinet was standing in the doorway staring down at her.

“You’re pathetic. Is there any wonder why the White man has been kicking your people in the ass for the last four hundred years?”

There she goes with that “Your people” thing again. Distancing herself from me. Trying to dehumanize me. Marking me as something other than herself, something she won’t feel guilty about torturing or even killing.

“Well, let’s get you cleaned up.”

The nurse reached down and grabbed a handful of Adelle’s hair, which was still long and thick despite being almost completely grey. She began dragging Adelle across the room into the adjoining bathroom. Adelle had to use her right arm with the injured shoulder and her good leg to scramble as best she could to keep from getting her hair pulled out by the roots. Several times she fell flat onto her face. Blood trickled from her nostrils and she was panting heavily when she finally made it into the bathroom and Natsinet dumped her into the tub.

“Sorry about that, but your hair was the only thing on you that wasn’t filthy.”

Adelle had no more energy to fight back as she was manhandled out of her nightgown. When Natsinet turned the showerhead on full blast and the cold water struck her, Adelle’s breath once again caught in her throat. The nurse tossed her from one humiliating position to the next as she scrubbed her skin raw with a coarse brush like the kind Adelle’s mother had once scrubbed floors with in the White folk’s houses she cleaned for a living, using it even in areas so tender that they swelled and bled as the rough bristles scoured the delicate flesh and Adelle cried out in anguish. The water quickly went from cold to scalding hot and Natsinet made sure that she exposed every inch of Adelle’s skin to the searing spray.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the water stopped. Adelle could sense Natsinet looking down at her. “There. All clean now. So, can you manage to crawl your lazy ass out of that tub and over to your bed or do I have to drag you again?”

The nurse was standing above her, tapping her orthopedic white shoes impatiently as Adelle pulled herself out of the tub and then inched across the floor on her belly using only one arm and leg to propel herself forward, adding rug burns to the abrasions caused by the scrub brush. By the time she’d made it back to the bed she was sure that she was going to have another stroke or a heart attack. She was also sure that this was exactly what Natsinet was hoping for. No one would question it if an old woman, who had already suffered a stroke, died of another. There would be no coroner’s inquest, no autopsy at all. Adelle closed her eyes and fought like hell to get her breathing and heart rate back under control. She refused to go out that easily.

“I don’t suppose you can make it back into your bed now, can you? That’s okay, we’ll work on that soon. Now go ahead and catch your breath. I’ll be right back.”

Natsinet left, once again leaving Adelle huddled on the floor in misery. This time Adelle had no strength within her to attempt any type of escape. She was so tired and sore. She just wanted to sleep. Her eyes closed and her head began to nod against her chest. She was fast asleep when the nurse returned.

“Wake up! Time for your physical therapy.”

Natsinet knelt down and gathered Adelle in her arms. Adelle’s mouth was inches from the nurse’s neck and she was calculating whether she had the strength to rip out the woman’s carotid artery with her jaw partially paralyzed. She doubted it. In all likelihood it would do nothing but earn her another beating, or worse. Natsinet tossed Adelle down roughly on the bed and eyed her suspiciously, as if she were somehow aware of what Adelle had been thinking.

Natsinet began with some light physiotherapy, lifting Adelle’s limbs and rotating the joints through their full range of motion. Taking her time, and with surprising patience, she guided each limb through several repetitive movements and stretches. She then asked Adelle to wiggle her fingers and toes while she pressed against them providing a counterforce to intensify each muscle contraction.

“These are the therapy techniques your doctor recommended. Conductive Education, a type of physiotherapy where we use repetitive movements to help reeducate your brain on how to use the muscles, hopefully creating new neuropathways in the brain to replace the ones blocked by the stroke. And Muscle Energy techniques utilizing a voluntary contraction of the patient’s muscles, like the one you use to wiggle your fingers and toes, against a controlled counterforce like the resistance of my hand on your fingers. These are all great techniques, and if they work you can expect to see results in as little as two weeks. They say that pretty much whatever movement you recover in the first thirty days is all you will ever recover. That’s why I’ve decided to try a new technique.”

Natsinet reached into her purse and pulled out a small black plastic box with prongs sticking out of the top of it. Adelle recognized it almost immediately. It was one of those stun guns they sold at Army surplus stores and gun shops for self-defense. She’d carried one herself once. Natsinet tapped the trigger on the side of the little box and an arc of electricity crackled between the prongs.

“It’s called electromyographic triggered Neuro-muscular Electrical Stimulation. It’s like Electro Convulsive therapy for the muscles. Usually it’s done with a Stem device and low grade electricity, not the 700,000 volts that this little thing is capable of. But I figure the more electricity the better and quicker the results.

“See, electromyographic signals are electrical impulses originating in the brain and transported via nerve cells to the muscles. These signals cause the muscles to contract. When you have a stroke, the parts of the brain that send and receive these signals no longer function properly, resulting in paralysis of the muscles. During Neuromuscular Electrical Stimulation, an electrical impulse is passed from a device such as this little stun gun placed on the skin over a targeted muscle or muscle group. The stimulation causes the muscles to contract. This type of stroke treatment is used to re-learn which part of the brain to activate and to re-develop spontaneous muscle control. It’s actually quite effective, though undoubtedly painful.”

Adelle shook her head, panicked at the idea of being shocked with a taser gun. Natsinet pressed the trigger on the stun gun again and the blue-white burst of electricity cracked between the electrodes, leaving a burning scent in the air. Adelle tried to scramble away. Adrenalin dumped into her bloodstream, giving her a momentary burst of energy that she quickly wasted trying to scamper away on her two good limbs, leaving her once again exhausted. The nurse smiled at her, watching Adelle’s pathetic attempt to save herself with perverse amusement.

“Now where do you think you’re going? Believe me, this is for your own good.”

Adelle was nearly blind with panic, heart thundering in her chest, short shallow breaths bursting from her lungs as she hyperventilated. She threw her good arm over her head to protect it from any electroshocks.

Natsinet smiled.

“Oh, don’t worry. I won’t be sending any shocks through your skull. That’s not how it works. At least, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Then she shoved the two electrodes against the naked skin of the old woman’s left leg, and pulled the trigger.

Perhaps it was worse because she was still wet from the bath. Perhaps it would have felt the same had she been dry. Adelle wasn’t sure. All she knew was that all the muscles in her body suddenly felt as if they had a will of their own.

She began to convulse almost immediately as pain tore through her nervous system, every muscle contracting involuntarily, causing her to thrash and flail like a fish on a hook. It was like having some type of painful orgasm. It felt as if her nerves were on fire.

Adelle’s left leg where Natsinet held the stun gun kicked straight out. Her right leg did the same. Her arms went rigid and her fingers clenched. Her teeth ground against each other and her bowels released a flood of excrement. The pain was too great for Adelle to care.

The nurse was staring at Adelle’s legs. Watching with clinical detachment as the muscles contracted and her legs kicked.

“So, I guess you can move those legs after all.”

Natsinet held the trigger for a mere ten seconds but it felt like a lifetime. When she released the trigger, Adelle was breathing like she’d just run a marathon. Her eyes rolled up in her head and her tongue lolled stupidly from her open mouth, drool running down her chin. It took almost another five minutes for Adelle to regain control of her senses.

“Here’s the good news. Both of your legs moved when the electrical current went through you, which means that there’s nothing wrong with the muscles, but I think we already knew that. It’s the signal from your brain that just isn’t getting to them. But we can retrain the other parts of your brain to take over the job of the parts that are damaged. I know a great technique for that. Here’s the bad news.”

She touched the stun gun to Adelle’s left arm and pulled the trigger.

This time Adelle let out a scream. Nothing long or protracted. It was short, truncated by the electricity, which quickly immobilized her larynx. Her arms shot into the air as the muscles contracted. Her legs kicked out again and once more her bowels voided onto the carpet. Adelle passed out. Each time she awoke, Natsinet was still standing above her with the stun gun to shock her again. Adelle wasn’t certain how long the treatment continued, but when she awoke the last time it was dark and Natsinet was gone.

The nurse must have lifted her when she was unconscious because she was once again in her bed, but the treatment had continued after she’d been lifted. Her sheets were saturated with urine and sweat. The room stank of excrement. Adelle knew that it was her own feces she smelled. She felt utterly humiliated. Her muscles ached as if she’d just been put through some vigorous weight-training program. Still, she was alive. The bitch hadn’t killed her. Not yet.

Adelle’s stomach growled and she realized she hadn’t eaten anything since the oatmeal early that morning. She was thirsty as well. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been given anything to drink and knew that with all she’d perspired, and with the urine she’d lost, there was a real danger of dehydration. But she certainly didn’t want to call for any food or water. She didn’t want Natsinet to know she was awake. Instead she sat quietly in the dark trying to find a comfortable position in her urine-soaked bed.

Her skin ached from rug burns and abrasions from the scrub brush and her own piss was now stinging her skin. She was afraid that she would get some kind of infection from it, then remembered that her husband Walt had once told her that urine was often used as an antibiotic in the jungles of Vietnam to fight off jungle rot. Still, it felt to her like she was getting the equivalent of a diaper rash, which increased her humiliation. She prayed that her daughter would be there in the morning and have this woman locked up. She fell asleep dreaming of Natsinet strapped to a gurney receiving a lethal injection while she and her daughter watched from the gallery. She had a smile on her face as she slept.