Chapter 56: Driven

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February-April 1969
(Cherokee, Iowa)
Driven:
To the institution. I remember this part in
black and white. The police car threaded up a hill, wheels crunching the ice.
Bare deciduous trees, black evergreens, a gray scape of snow, dead grass,
frozen earth. A dreary castle at the apex, spires, a place where a dungeon
might exist, not a place I wanted to be.
The car stopped just short
of a stone portico. The woman unlocked and opened the car door, motioned me
out. “Come along, you.”
The sheriff, the escort,
and I climbed some steps. The woman pushed me through the door.
I disappeared inside
Cherokee.
*
Driven:
To forget. I don’t remember much about those
first few hours in Cherokee: an intake report, a brief physical, and a mug
shot. Maybe even a bathroom break.
Just the terror, the
anger, and the thumping of my heart, all in bas relief, the physical
details distorted behind crackled glass.
To escape.
For two months, I plotted,
begged, cajoled, and lobbied for my release. I wanted only to flee the
institution, Iowa, my grandparents.
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“Driven,” © copyright 2013 - present, by Jennifer Semple Siegel, may not be reprinted or reposted without the express permission of the author. Published in Memoir Madness: Driven to Involuntary Commitment
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