Gender: Male Age: Secret Location: Detroit
|Introduction: A woman struggles in a man's world|
The heat waves shimmered in the distance, inexorably rising off the sand in an unmerciful display of mother nature's authority. The head nurse wanted to change the channel but, as usual, the remote was nowhere to be found. Off to the left, Mrs. Sanderson could be heard, the woman whose screams were always signaling the impatience of another frantic after-noon in the day room at Eloise.
It was the summer of '69. It was the summer of routine and boredom. That is, until the girl was brought in.
Doctor Tristane Janelle had seen some sad cases, in the many months since she had arrived here, just after her grad-uation, with honors, from the prestigious Université Montpellier and her internship at Pitié-Salpêtrière Hospital in Paris, but nothing like the girl who had been brought in, three weeks ago, to the psychiatric ward here at Eloise, the name given to the complex that was the Wayne County Mental Hospital.
The girl, to all appearances, was in her late teens – maybe seventeen or eighteen years old. She was blonde and frail-looking and so feminine, with her thin waist, rounded hips and firm-looking breasts. She had wide blue eyes and a pert nose above her full, rose-colored lips. She was more than just pretty.
A couple of Detroit policemen had found her wandering the streets, at two in the morning, barefoot and wearing nothing more than a full slip, crying her eyes out as she stumbled around aimlessly in the dark.
Taking her into their squad car, they tried to question her but got nowhere as she seemed unable to hear them or respond to their questions. Doing nothing but continued cry-ing.
For her own safety, she was brought to the Bedford police station where she was again unsuccessfully questioned, given hot chocolate (which she managed to hold and sip down) and then taken to a holding cell where she was given a blanket and spent the night sitting upright on a hard, wooden bench.
There were no missing persons reports on her and inquiries turned up nothing so, that next day, she was brought - as all county indigents were - to Eloise.
Dr. Janelle had been given the girl’s case because of her extensive training and her past experience with drawing res-ponses from catatonic patients.
Tristane Janelle was a slight but shapely young woman with long legs and thick, unruly brownish-blonde hair that she kept parted and cropped short, to just above her shoulders, so that she didn’t have to deal with it. Being attractive, to her, was an unnecessary chore that she had no time for. She did nothing to enhance her appearance... no make-up or jewelry and nothing done to hide or augment that fact that she had such petite, girlish breasts. Despite her efforts to the contrary, she had always been considered demure and very pretty, with her doe-like brown eyes and her full, cushiony lips. Her unmistakable, natural beauty had misled the men of the world into believing her to be far less capable then her strong male counterparts and that was one of the reasons that she had abandoned her native France, and it’s bottom pinching chauvinists, to come to America.
Being female had kept her from landing the more prestigious psychiatric positions in places like Boston or Phil-adelphia or New York City and even the likes of Belleview Hospital had rejected her. She had landed (and then lost) a position at the Royal Victoria Hospital in francophone Montreal before she was accepted here at Eloise. She took the staff position even though Detroit was not a place that she had dreamed of residing in during her girlhood in Neuilly-sur-Seine, a posh suburb of Paris. It was a job. It was another start. It was a place where she could maybe finally prove her-self to be as competent as any male in her chosen profession.
Dr. Janelle had visited the girl many times, since she had been brought in, either in the room in which she had been placed or in therapy sessions here in her office. She had tried so hard to get through to the girl and was always disheartened when she did not respond to her soothing words or the soft touches to her arms or her cheek.
“‘Ow you are feeling today, sweet’eart?” Dr. Janelle would ask, in her thick, French accent while the girl just stared forward in her chair. “You ‘av been ear almost a whole monse, vous jolie fille. Won’t you speak wit me today? Tell me please what ‘appen to you?”
The girl still uttered not a word but, as Dr. Janelle watched, a large tear appeared in the corner of her eye and then dripped down over her cheek and off of her chin to the front of her flower-print hospital gown.
That tear was a response, Dr. Janelle’s training told her. Despite what all of her colleagues here had been telling her, this girl was hearing and thinking and remembering some-thing inside of her head that brought on that tear and Dr. Janelle was determined to find out what it was.
“Please, tell me,” Dr. Janelle, wearing her usual white, starched lab-coat over her plain, white blouse and dark-navy pencil skirt, said as she dropped to her knees, not worrying about the effects of the dusty floor on her sheer nylons. Leaning to the girl, she spoke gently, close to the side of her face saying, “I know you ‘ear me, ma belle amie. Say som-sing to me.”
But, even though a few more tears appeared, no words came from the girl and soon her hour of useless therapy was over and Darnell, the huge black orderly, came to put her into a wheelchair and take her back up to her room.
Dr. Janelle wrote a prescription, on the yellow page of her chart, for an increased dosage of thorizine to be administered to the patient just as old Dr. Bloom, the head of the psychiatry staff, came into her office.
“Any words out of the Jane Doe yet?” he inquired.
“Pas de mots,” Dr. Janelle replied, lapsing into French as she often did when she was flustered. “She jus sit zare and say nussing but sen sa tears come, Doctor.”
“Yes,” he sighed deeply in agreement. “Something awful happened to that girl, Tristane,” the grizzled old head of staff observed. “I think it’s time we try electro-therapy on her.”
“No,” Dr. Janelle turned to face him and stated firmly. “Shock ‘er brain to life? She ees much too frail for sat. I ‘ave tole you so. She can’t take sat kind of treatment.”
“Insulin shock then?”
Dr. Janelle closed her eyes, thinking of the dreadful pain and stress caused by such arcane therapies. Patients res-trained with leather straps and injected with high doses of insulin causing their bodies to go into such extreme con-vulsions that wooden pegs had to be forced between their teeth to keep them from biting off their own tongues. “No,” she said. “Sare ‘as to be sumsing else we can do for ‘er.”
“I’ll give you another couple of days with her,” Dr. Bloom said before he turned away from the pretty, young doctor and left the office for the rest of his rounds.
Darnell Loomis loved his job carting around the loony females here at Eloise. There were normally no men allowed in the women’s ward, other than the male doctors. But there had to be at least one male orderly strong enough to lift the women and girls into their beds and wheelchairs and Darnell was the lucky one.
Don’t think that he hadn’t learned how to take advantage of that situation. Lifting and moving the women presented him with plenty of opportunities to touch and feel places that he wasn’t supposed to touch or feel but the women never reported anything and who would believe them if they did? After all, they were crazy.
Having to live at the hospital when he was on duty gave Darnell a chance to make his own kind of rounds, late in the evenings. And he would go from bed to bed, of the sleeping females who were the most crazy, and he would fondle a tender, warm breast or put his hand up under the hem of a hospital gown and feel up between the delicate, hair-covered cushions of some white woman’s pussy, his stinky finger becoming a trophy for him to take back to his room and sniff while masturbating himself to a spurting climax.
When Darnell first saw the lovely blonde teenager he knew that he had hit the jackpot and he could hardly wait to get his meaty black hands on her supple-looking, curvy white body.
The first night, when he had observed that her eyes had been closed for a while, and that the sedative medicine they had given her was in full effect, he crept to her bedside and pulled down her blankets. Her alluring feminine curves were evident even within her hospital gown and they beckoned to him as he stood menacingly above her.
Cautiously he set his large hands upon her, feeling her curves and supple bumps through her gown and luxuriating in how warm and soft the pretty girl felt.
Her eyes not opening or reacting and his building lust gave him the courage to place his hands on her legs, just above her knees, and then he ran his hands up her silken thighs until he came to the prize waiting for him at the juncture of her limbs.
This girl’s pussy was downy-soft and its outer lips pillow-like and dainty under a soft covering of thin, straight hair.
Darnell let his hand play over the alluring mound of her pussy for a time, watching the lovely features of her child-like, sleeping face all the while as his finger found the moist cleft between the outer lips of her vulva and he probed inward, feeling the moist, supple protrusions of her delicate inner lips and rubbery clitoris within.
He toyed in the warm slickness there for a time and was thinking of pushing his long, thick finger right into the wet opening of her heated vagina when he heard the sounds of the cleaning crew in the hallway and quickly pulled his hand from her and covered the girl back up, leaving before he was caught with her.
Going back to his room and laying on his bed, Darnell placed his moistened, middle finger to his nostrils and deeply sniffed.
He was not disappointed. The drying evidence, that the moisture of the girl’s pussy had left on his finger, was sharply sweet with her intimate feminine fragrance and Darnell wasted no time in using his free hand to extract his hardened, black cock from the waistband of his scrubs and he began frantically masturbating as he sniffed the girl’s intoxicating sexual odor. It took less than a minute before he erupted, spewing his copious seed all over the shirt of his scrubs and the woolen blanket covering his cot.
His mind reeled with ideas of just how to use this beautiful girl for his future carnal pleasures.
When the time was right, he decided then and there, calming from the height of his lust, he was not going to miss this golden opportunity with such a pretty, white girl and he was somehow going to maneuver her ass over to the side of her bed, jam his rigid cock deep into her delicate pussy, fuck her hard and deep and then blissfully get his nut off inside of her.
After the next day’s early staff meeting and completing her morning rounds, Dr. Janelle sat at the desk in her first-floor office and thought about the lovely blonde girl on the third floor and what she could possibly do to help her.
She must have parents and family somewhere looking for her, she reasoned. A familiar face, or the encouraging voice of a loving family member, could be so helpful to her right now. So why hadn’t anyone seen news reports of her or heard about missing person’s notices from the police?
Though not any of her business, Dr. Janelle picked up the phone and placed a call to the detective bureau of the Detroit police department and was directed to Sergeant Trombley in the missing persons bureau.
“No,” he said in the telephone receiver, “we have had no missing persons reports involving any teenage girls. Not in a long while.”
“But someone mus be looking for ‘er,” Dr. Janelle insisted. “She ees such a lovely, young girl, Sarshent. Some-one, somewhere mus be worried about ‘er.”
“Well, if they are, Miss, they haven’t contacted the police or I’d have it on the wire. Nothing from Ohio or Indiana either. But I’ll tell you what... I’ll contact the State Police and I’ll stop by your hospital later and have a photo taken of your Jane Doe. We can put that on the wire and see if anyone is looking for her.”
“Je vous remercie beaucoup, Sarshent. Sat would be mos ‘elpfull of you.”
When lunchtime arrived, Dr. Janelle ate her tuna-salad sandwich and her apple alone at her desk and reviewed her patient charts and case papers before she had to attend the afternoon staff meeting.
It was there, at that meeting, that Dr. Dickman spoke up about Dr. Janelle’s Jane Doe patient before the other members of the staff.
“Dr. Janelle has badly dropped the ball again as far as this girl is concerned,” he said, standing from his chair with his beady snake-like eyes squinting at everyone from under his freckled forehead and its hanging shock of riotous red hair. “I have talked it over with some of the other doctors, on the staff, and we feel that this girl requires the normally prescribed, immediate use of electro-therapy to set her mind straight and get her returned into society.”
Dr. Janelle was used to Dr. Dickman’s pushing of his archaic methods on all of the male staff members and she had a distain for him that was becoming increasingly hard for her to conceal. “Dr. Dickman is not correct, chentelmen,” she told the gathering at the long conference table. “Sis girl, she need ferry delicate care to bring ‘er aroun. I am making progress wit ‘er and I feel it ees only a matter of time before...”
“Dr. Janelle has always had a problem with being far too soft on the patients here at Eloise,” Dr. Dickman said now, “and with little success to show for it. She is far too concerned with a patient’s “feelings” and with being “gentle” to be an effective member of this hospital’s staff. Oh, it’s not really her fault, gentlemen. After all, women should never try to compete with men in a professional atmosphere. They’re way too weak and naturally incompetent.”
“Come, come now,” Dr. Bloom slapped his hand on the table to gain everyone’s attention. “There is no need for a personal attack here, Dr. Dickman. I have always stated my support for Dr. Janelle and her methods.”
“Well,” Dr. Dickman said to the other doctors at the table, “I have had about enough of her ineffectively effeminate ways and I am writing a letter to the medical board to have her put under review.”
Dr. Bloom bristled at his subordinate now. “Only I have the authority to do that, Dickman. And I don’t feel that ex-treme of a measure is required. I have faith that Dr. Janelle is about to have a breakthrough in this girl’s case.”
“Merci tres bien, Dr. Bloom,” she managed to say while, at the same time, frantically struggling against the tears that were about to erupt from her eyes in front of all of her male colleagues.
“I’ll agree to hold off until this “breakthrough” happens or doesn’t happen,” Dr. Dickman said now. “But, when it doesn’t happen, I fully intend to contact the board and report her European-bred, female-induced shortcomings to them.”
Dr. Janelle had heard enough and, despite her urge to verbally attack the pompous braggart, she instead stood and rushed from the room, holding her hand above her eyes to hide her tears until she could be alone in the outer hall.
How dare he? she thought as she grabbed a wrinkled tissue from the pocket of her lab-coat and dabbed at the salty drops that were now uncontrollably gushing down both of her reddened cheeks. Had the other doctors seen her start to cry? Were they against her now as well? Was she going to lose yet another position for appearing too weak compared to the men?
Dr. Janelle turned her body to the cold, hallway wall and cried a bit more before she felt the large hands on her shoulders. Quickly turning, she looked into the kind face of Dr. Bloom.
“Come now, Tristane,” he said in the same voice that her father - now so very far away from her - had used to comfort her when she was a little girl. “The hospital is no place for tears and we can’t let the patients and other staff members see you like this.”
“I am sorry,” she sniffed. “It’s jus sat Dr. Dickman, ’e es such a bess-terd.”
“Yes,” Dr. Bloom agreed, trying not to chuckle at her use of the fractured curse-word. “He is that. But don’t let him get to you. I’m on your side, Tristane, but I just don’t know for how long I can hold out against him and the others on the staff. This girl is your test. You have to bring her out of herself and show your own strength and abilities to these doctors before he turns them all against you.”
Dr. Janelle stood erect, as she watched Dr. Dickman pass them in the hallway, staring back at her the whole time, and then she said, “I ‘ear what you are saying, Doctor. I am seeing her sis afternoon.”
The afternoon session didn’t go much better than any of the others had. The girl was no longer crying but she was still near catatonic though she was able to use the bathroom with minimal assistance from the female orderlies and she would wash herself and eat if fed. But this was just about the same state she was in when admitted.
Sergeant Trombley arrived during the session and he brought a State Police photographer with him who took several pictures of the blonde girl for distribution to police agencies across the country and Canada.
After the girl was wheeled away, Dr. Janelle couldn’t help but feel despondent over her lack of progress. Nothing was getting through to the girl and it was clear that Dr. Bloom’s patience was running out.
Tomorrow would be her last chance to bring the girl to reality before she would be removed from the case and Dr. Dickman’s more primitive methods would be used on her.
Dr. Janelle placed her hand to her brow as she felt herself near tears again at the thought of that lovely girl’s fate. If only she could take her away from the sterile confines of Eloise and place her in a more pastoral setting where she could rest and look at the grass and flowers and get her mind back.
Shaking those thoughts from her head, she tried to make herself mentally prepared for the long evening ahead of her. It was her turn to be the physician ‘on call’ and she would have to stay awake all night to take care of any medical emergencies that might crop up, plus work her regular shift tomorrow. These were the worst nights for doctors at Eloise.
By six o’clock all of the staff doctors had departed for the evening and the patients had been given their dinners. Visiting hours would soon end and then medications would be doled out before bedtime at nine. Then it would be a lot quieter, for everyone, until morning.
Dr. Janelle assisted the orderlies and helped the nurses administer medications before taking a dinner break in the hospital’s cafeteria. The food there wasn’t at all good but she picked at a plate of cold chicken and a salad before downing her coffee and returning to the nurses’ station to finish any needed medications.
Nurse Hillenbach reminded her that she needed to ad-minister the strong sleeping sedative to Mrs. Beal before ten o’clock. Mrs. Beal was a very obese woman who was hard to control at any time but even more unruly at bedtime. It was near impossible to get the woman to sleep. The nurses had gone through every sleeping pill known to medical science and it was only a large dose of tranquilizer that had any effect on her now. That extreme of a dose had to be given by injection and that injection had to be administered by a certified physician.
As ten o’clock neared, Dr. Janelle prepared a hypodermic with the required 200 milligrams of sedative and checked Mrs. Beal’s chart to make sure that the dosage was indeed correct.
Dr. Benton surprised her as he approached the nurses’ station with a troubled look on his face. “Dr. Janelle?”
He looked nervous as he said, “I felt I had to tell you... Dr. Dickman and Dr. Rule are in the building and they plan to take your catatonic girl down to the second floor to administer shock therapy on her without anyone knowing.”
“Qu'est-ce?” Dr. Janelle asked in disbelief. “But sey can’t do sat. Sey have no right. She ees steel my patient.”
“I know, Doctor. I’m on your side. That’s why I came and found you. I saw your name on the duty roster. They have no idea that you’re here. Please don’t tell them that I said anything to you.”
Dr. Janelle used the nurses’ phone to call Dr. Bloom’s residence. He wasn’t at home but his teenaged daughter took a message and she promised to locate him and give it to him right away.
Leaving Dr. Benton to fret alone at the nurses’ station, she ran hurriedly for the slow elevator to the third floor.
It was near dark in the blonde girl’s hospital room as Darnell crept in and closed the door behind him. Turning on the light he could now see her reposed on her bed, sleeping soundly with her eyes gently closed. He could see the rise and fall of her perfect breasts with her steady breathing.
Darnell rubbed his hands together as he approached the bed. This was going to be an extreme sexual treat for him, fucking this unbelievably pretty white girl under everyone’s noses.
Once at the bed, Darnell pulled her blankets down and off of her and then looked her body up and down a few times to savor the curvy treat that he was about to consume.
Turning her to her side, he unbuttoned her hospital gown and then lay her back and pulled it down her shoulders and her chest, exposing those perfect, conical breasts to him with their puffy, pink nipples.
Taking them in his hands, he fondled them for a time, squeezing them both and marveling at their extreme softness. He even brought his face down to place his large lips around one pinkish, protruding nipple and give it a hard, inward suck.
Then he reached down to the hem of her gown and pulled that up until he had exposed all of her sexy legs and the real prize: the patch of straw-colored hair at her public mound. This girl had the most perfect looking pussy that Darnell had ever seen.
Taking hold of her legs now, he pried them wide apart and then pulled her wide ass to the edge of the bed and let her legs hang over the side.
Stepping back to admire her further, Darnell quickly pulled down and let fall the cotton trousers of his green scrubs, exposing his hard, huge black cock which was now standing almost straight up from his hairy loins and oozing milky pre-cum from its tip.
Pulling her legs wider apart and looking down at his open target, Darnell stepped to the girl and started to guide his cock toward the tender-looking petals of her exposed, pink vagina.
“Stop that!” came a loud voice from the door to the room and, startled, Darnell turned to see Dr. Dickman moving quickly toward him.
Darnell let go of the girl and took a menacing step toward the doctor now, uttering, “What the hell are you gonna’ do to stop me, Dickman?”
“You’re finished at this hospital, Loomis!”
“Nots ‘till I gets my special pussy, doc,” and, with that, he grabbed Dr. Dickman roughly, by the collar of his lab-coat, and then flung him, like a large rag-doll, toward the far wall. The impact with the solid cinderblock edifice knocked him fully out and he fell, with a boney clatter, unconscious, to the hard, tile floor.
Stepping back to the side of the girl’s bed, Darnell decided that he had already lost his job and that he was going to go to jail for assault and rape anyway so he might as well make it worth the trouble now and fuck this girl in every dirty manner and position he could think of.
Pressing the tip of his huge black cock to the open entrance of her small, pink vagina again, Darnell grabbed the soft, flared curves of her hips and made ready to thrust himself brutally into her body when another, higher pitched voice rang out from the doorway.
“What sa ‘el do you sink you’re doing? Stop sat and get away from sat girl!”
It was that French, bitch doctor, Darnell told himself. Nothing to worry about with the likes of her. She could just as well watch him fuck the little blonde and then maybe he’d yank up her skirt, get between her long, sexy legs and fuck the shit out of her too. He’d always wanted a piece of her froggy, French ass.
“Take your ‘ans off of ‘er!” the unimposing, little female screamed as she ran toward him with her hands balled into tight fists of rage.
Darnell had to step back again, just before she made it to him, and he grabbed both of her arms just above her elbows and held her locked in his strong grip.
“What ‘chu gonna’ do, Doc?” Darnell tauntingly laughed at her as he held her in place, looking into the blazing, angry brown eyes of her reddened, pretty face as he added, “Oh, you wanna’ be first with me instead of her? That’s no problem, bitch.”
Dr. Janelle, incensed with anger, struggled uselessly to wrench her slighter body back from his unyielding grasp. She quickly became frighteningly aware that she was now at his mercy and she knew that she had to do something to extract herself and fast. Despite the pencil skirt that she was wear-ing, she leveraged herself with her left leg and then struck upwards with her right knee, jamming it hard up into the big orderly’s large, exposed sack of testicles.
Darnell screamed out at the painful contact and his huge body bent forward as he let go of her left arm in order to clutch at his aching scrotum. Her one arm now free of his bruising grip, she turned to run from him but, not wanting to lose his grasp of her, he grabbed her around her thin waist and pulled her back roughly against his chest, using his muscular arm as a vice now to try and squeeze the very breath out of her.
“That’s it,” he encouraged from behind her. “Struggle fo’ me, bitch. I likes it when curvy, little gals jiggle and squirms fo’ me. It ain’t gonna’ do ya’ no good, though. Darnell gotcha’ now and you ain’t getting’ away from me. My hard cock is out and it be rape time for you, froggy.”
Feeling him now using his free arm to yank up the slitted hem at the back of her skirt and fearing the dire certainty of her fate, she tried to fight back by kicking aimlessly rearward at him, just grazing or missing his shins completely and becoming light-headed from the strain of the effort and the fact that she couldn’t breathe in his unyielding, vice-like grip. Going rapidly feeble, her kicks became no more than weak, useless efforts until she had the presence of mind to just stop struggling altogether and simply let herself lean back against her assailant to gather her strength.
“That’s more like it, Doctor Bitch-lady,” Darnell said glee-fully behind her, encouraged by her sudden docility as he reached up the back of her skirt, roughly grasped the moist, lacy gusset of her sheer, silken panties in his huge hand and, in a quick downward motion, ripped them right off of her. “You is ready fo’ me now!”
Then, as she felt him forcing her to bend forward and pressing his naked loins up against her exposed, fleshy posterior, she distinctly sensed something warm and long and rigid probing up between her thighs and right to the very notch of her most personal of feminine areas.
Trying hard not to let her ever mounting panic overcome her, and with him pushing so forcefully to enter her vulnerable and (as of yet) never before penetrated vagina, she stealthily used the tip of her toe to feel for exactly where her target was and then, summoning all of her remaining strength, lifted her foot from the floor and then slammed her solid high-heel down hard upon the top of his canvas shoe, hearing that action elicit another shrill scream of pain from him.
“Fuck you, bitch!” he shouted angrily behind her now, as he pulled back from his unaccomplished sexual penetration of her and his grip around her thin waist somewhat loosened, allowing her to breathe and some of the blood to flow back into her brain, “Just fo’ that, ah’m gonna’ really fuck you up now, froggy. Ahm gonna’ slit your fuckin’ throat for you. And that li’l girl’s too, when ‘ahm done wit ‘chu.”
Then there then came the unmistakable metallic click as Darnell opened a switchblade, just behind her exposed neck, and Dr. Janelle realized, to her immense horror, that her time on this Earth was going to be over in a matter of mere mo-ments.
She was girding herself for that very fate when her mind suddenly perceived a vision of what she had been doing when Dr. Benton had interrupted her at the nurses’ station. Cautiously, so as not to attract his attention, she reached into the breast pocked of her lab-coat where she found it, right where she had stashed it in her earlier haste to come up here. Very slowly, and with much concealed care, she extracted the large hypodermic syringe, which she had earlier prepared for Mrs. Beal. Gripping it like a knife in her tight fist, she used her front teeth to remove the protective plastic cap and, spitting that quickly to the floor, she twisted herself fully around in his unguarded grasp and, in a swift stabbing motion, drove the long needle fully into the side of the big negro’s neck, seeing his eyes go wide in surprise and shock at what she’d just done to him. With no hesitation, she used her thumb to depress the plunger into the barrel and administered enough Nembutal to completely sedate a large, charging rhinoceros.
The deep-brown lids of Darnell’s wide eyes fluttered as his pupils dilated and turned upward in his football-sized head and there came a clatter as his knife fell uselessly from his hand.
Dr. Janelle could sense his body going totally limp and she simply side-stepped away from his relaxed grasp just before he dropped heavily to his knees, teetered for a moment and then crashed, headlong and face-first, to the hard, tile floor, shattering the bridge of his large nose on impact. The twin mounds of his bare, black ass were now exposed to everyone in the room.
As she turned from the sight of him, straightening and smoothing the back of her lab-coat and skirt, she could see Dr. Bloom and Dr. Rule and Dr. Benton all having just recently arrived at the open doorway - joined now by Sergeant Trombley of the Detroit police department - and all of them with looks of astonished disbelief on their faces as they stared back at the diminutive figure of Dr. Janelle and the limp, unconscious bodies of both Darnell and Dr. Dickman sprawled on the floor at her feet.
Dr. Janelle heard a plaintive moan from the girl on the bed and she quickly rushed to her, coaxing her back to the center of her mattress and pulling up the bodice of her gown as she used her free hand to touch her forehead soothingly.
“Are you alright?” she asked the girl who still did not reply. “Speak to me, ‘oney. Say somsing. Anysing. Did ‘e urt you?”
Sergeant Trombley and the three doctors stepped forward now and Dr. Janelle turned her attention to them, calling out, “One of you get an orderly and a nurse to take ‘er to Exam-ination. We ‘ave to get ‘er checked hout to make sure sat ‘e didn’t ‘arm ‘er.”
It was Dr. Rule who left the room while Dr. Janelle pulled the girl to a sitting position and reached around her to tie and button her gown at her back. “You will be alright, sweet’eart,” she softly spoke to the girl before looking into her open blue eyes. “Nobody will ‘ert you ever again, I promise you.”
The girl then omitted a sound, as if gently clearing her throat to speak, which was heard by all in the room just as the orderly rushed in with the wheelchair.
“Did you hear that?” Dr. Bloom asked. Did she say something? I swear I heard something from her.”
Dr. Janelle looked into her pretty face, searching for signs of cognizant expression. “Did you say somsing, Mon coeur? Please speak to me. Tell me your name, ‘oney. Tell me your name, je vous en prie!”
The girl blinked and her lips pursed and Dr. Janelle put the side of her face close to the pretty blonde’s mouth, deter-mined not to miss hearing her response.
Everyone in the room again heard her softly whisper something into Dr. Janelle’s ear just before the orderly reached for her to help her into the wheelchair and start to wheel her from the room.
Sergeant Trombley, who was now handcuffing the unconscious Darnell’s hands at his back, noticed the small ruby ring, on the third finger of the blonde girl’s right hand, as she was wheeled past him. Funny that he hadn’t noticed it there before, he thought to himself. It could be inscribed with something...
“Did she tell you?” Dr. Bloom asked. “I’m sure that I heard her say something again. Did she tell you her name, Tristane?”
“No,” Dr. Janelle replied, smiling widely now, “but she is conscious and aware now, Doctor. She did respon to me. She mus be ‘ungry because I clearly ‘erd ‘er say sa word ‘cookie’.”
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