Tinker Bell and the Curtain

Bethany Rodgers walked briskly down the hallways of the country prison. Leather briefcase in one hand, cell phone in the other. She ignored the catcalls and hoots of the inmates as she walked past them. Her tunnel vision was focused in on the back of the guard in front of her. She held her head up high, and squared off her shoulders, she had to look powerful and confident. Her tall, black heels clacked on the concrete floor and echoes across the prison. They knew she was here.

                The guard opened a barred door and led her inside. They seemed to be in a hospital of some sort. Nurses were running back and forth, some with carts, others with wheelchair bound inmates, and others with just clipboards and stethoscopes. It was true entropy. Each had a look of slight panic on their face. They were nervous. She could smell it.

                They walked straight down the middle hallway that was littered with people and cart. They weaved themselves through the obstacles and marched to the very last door where a large, nurse met them. She looked him right in the eye as they shook hands.

                “I am the head nurse of this facility,” he introduced himself.

                “I am the attorney the court assigned to be Mr. Brook’s defense,” she replied.

                He gave her a skeptical look and replied, “Pleasure.”

                “I’m sure,” she said as she gave his hand a tight squeeze before letting go. “Is there anything I need to be made aware of before we go in?” she continued without missing a beat.

                The nurse chuckled to himself and said, “Ma’am, you are going to have your work cut out for you. There is one sick puppy in these walls,” he motioned to the locked door, “best not get bit.”

                The nurse punched in his pass code for the door and with a small buzz she could head the deadbolt in the door unlock. The nurse placed his large hand on the handle and pushed it in, but didn’t move from his spot. “There you go Ms. Rodgers,” he said, almost cautioning. She took a deep breath, straitened her shoulders, and thanked the guard and the nurse and walked into the dark room beyond.

                The lights was only dimly lit, she looked up at the florescent lights and realized that most of the bulbs were shattered in their sockets; the ground was littered with the glass. Small surgeon utensils lay here and there on the floor. Projectiles? In the middle of the room there was a large curtain that created a barrier between her and the client.

                “After he woke up,” whispered the nurse. “He became violent demanding for an attorney. We couldn’t risk the nurses’ wellbeing as they did their rounds and checked up on the patient. We didn’t have a choice but to put up the barrier.”

                “I see,” she said. “Is it sound proof, or is he sedated again?”

                But before the nurse could answer a voice from behind the curtain responded, “What do you think, Tinker Bell?”

                “I am your attorney Mr. Brooks,” she quickly said, straightening herself back up. “Bethany Rodgers,” she introduced.

                “Send the fat nurse away, Tinker Bell,” said the voice. “We have some catching up to do.”

                Bethany looked nervously up at the nurse. He tried to meet her gaze with a reassuring look, but it didn’t give her any comfort. He just handed her a small clicker and whispered in her ear, “If anything goes wrong, click this and we will be just seconds away.”

                She clutched the device tightly in her hand, he palms began to sweat as the nurse walked back into the hall way, closing the door behind him.

                The door made a small buzzing noise.

                They were alone.

                She turned and looked at the darkness ahead of her. She couldn’t see around the curtain, and she had no plans on trying. What was she supposed to do now? She could feel her chest flutter, and her bladder grew tight. She straitened her skirt and began to walk towards the curtain. The little voice in her head was screaming in her head. She shouldn’t be here. She needs to leave. Press the button. You’re going to get hurt. Run. Run.

                “Sit down,” the voice commanded.

Right.

Sit down.

It will be ok.

This was just business.

Paycheck.

Money.

                Bethany walked over to one of the desks and pulled a chair out and dragged it across the room. The legs sent a scraping noise that etched its way into her brain. She grimaced, slightly embarrassed. She felt like a middle schooler awkwardly dragging her chair across the classroom.

                She set her briefcase next to the chair and sat down. Legs crossed. Pen and pad handy. Head held high. Waiting for her next command. She felt more comfortable with the invitation; however, the voice in her head told her to place her chair in direct line to the door. She couldn’t risk getting trapped. Always have an escape exit. That’s what her father always said. Never turn your back to the door, or the known enemy.

                “Tell me, Tinker Bell,” said the voice behind the curtain. “How far are you willing to go in order to get your money?”