Two men waited outside Loretta’s room when Blondie entered the old man’s room. He walked over to the bed and wheeled it over toward the door. The old man started fussing, to no avail. “Now we don’t want you to miss a thing. We’ll leave her door open so you can see.” Blondie checked the angle from the old man’s point of view. “Oh yeah, this is just right.”
The old man was fidgeting against his restraints. The wind had picked up and his window was rattling.
The three men opened up Loretta’s door. She was in bed sleeping. “What? What’s going on?” Her confusion transitioned quickly to fear as the three men started grabbing at her. “Get her legs,” Blondie said to one of the men as he climbed on top of her, ripping at her gown.
In that moment, the old man heard a whisper in a language that he didn’t understand. He repeated the word out loud and his restraints burst into fire. He leapt up from his bed. Loretta was screaming. Blondie smacked her in the face.
When the old man crossed the hall, one of the men in white slammed the door shut.
Blondie was straddling Loretta and he punched her in the face, not once but several times.
In her heart, she couldn’t give in. She had known abuse before but nothing like what she feared was about to take place. There was no escaping, no internal place to hide. One doesn’t just endure these kinds of attacks. There’s a struggle through the violence until violence decides it wants to stop. Her inner fight wasn’t enough to stop the violence from happening, but it wasn’t capable of giving up.
There was a boom, a gust of hot wind, and a flash of light. She opened her eyes and Blondie was on the floor against the wall with the other two men in white. The door and parts of the wall around it were shattered into pieces. The old man was standing there with his palm elevated.
He rushed to the space between Loretta and the three men. He picked up the first two and threw them against the wall. He threw them so hard their skulls cracked on the cinder block.
Blondie came at the old man with his baton, yelling and red-faced. The old man picked him up and threw him across the hall. Though Blondie struggled, the old man planted him face first into the bed and tied his hands to the guardrails with strips of sheets.
He picked up a two-foot long thin sharp plank of wood from the ground that had splintered off from the door, held it firmly with his grasp, and impaled Blondie through