Prologue

Nurse Bethany Taylor gave a quick kiss on her husband’s lips before she exited the 1954 Chevrolet Bel-Air. Her relationship as well as the car, both a thing of beauty, could not be a further contrast to the routine she endured for the past two years. Every morning sharing a warm embrace with her husband before he departed towards a more respectable job. She would stride up the few stone steps in her fresh white uniform, her golden-brown hair flowing in the crisp breeze as she turned around to wave a final goodbye at the rear of the car. Taking a deep breath and letting out a slow exhale, she turned around to face the large double doors and entered into the main hall of the hospital.

An exchange of a smile and a nod from the receptionist would be the last moment of happiness that Bethany would see until the end of her shift. Walking into the locker room which doubled as an unofficial lounge for the other nurses, she could see the graveyard shift sitting around the table smoking and eagerly waiting for their morning relief. She didn’t care much for the night crew of nurses, they had a habit of deferring their tasks onto the morning crew and she couldn’t stand the constant smell of smoke that permeated around them. Still she tried her best to be friendly as she clocked in for the day.

“Good morning ladies.” She said as she removed her time card from the slotted holder on the wall and dropped it into the well of the machine that hung next to it. The mechanism inside sprang to life and clamped loudly onto the paper certifying her arrival. She pulled the card out and verified. ‘7:28AM, I wonder how much closer I can get to the three-o’, she thought to herself as she placed the card back into the slot on the wall.

The other woman finally acknowledged her presence when they realized that Bethany was officially on the clock.

“Good morning Beth. I need to get some fresh air.” One woman said as she smashed the butt of her half-smoked cigarette into the ash tray and rose from her chair.

‘So do I, damn.’ Bethany kept to her inner monologue as she watched the rest of the nurses excuse themselves. Almost in unison they followed suit and greeted her as they walked past and out of the room. Only one remained, the woman she was relieving that morning. An older woman, probably in her mid-sixties with untamed curly hair and heavy bags under her eyes stood in front of Beth to give a quick brief.

Her tone was lethargic and forced, eager to get the dialogue over with. “Jacob has diarrhea, so you may want to have an orderly on standby when you reach the dormitory. Gertrude started her period last night, and has been screaming and crying almost nonstop with the confusion. The doctor gave her a sedative, so you may be fortunate if the effects last throughout the day. I don’t know how much more time there is for Abby, it could happen any moment now. Other than that, you know, it’s the usual.”

Bethany looked downward as if searching for words of empathy to give to her counterpart, but she had none to give. She looked back up and gave the approval to the now off-duty nurse. “Okay then, thank you and have a wonderful day.”

The elderly woman gave a whispered “hmmph”, slightly rolled her eyes and exited the room.

There was already a feeling that this was going to be a long day, but the new information bestowed upon her was already starting to pull her enthusiasm deeper into the earth. She let out a sigh under her breath and walked out of the room and toward the back door of the building for the next moment of her daily routine. She pushed the door open and was greeted with a well-manicured landscape, a brilliant blue sky, and the bird chirps that searched for their morning meal in the soil. The cool fresh air filled her lungs as she took a deep breath and admitted to herself that the façade was about to end for the day.

She walked the clear stone path for just over one hundred yards until she reached the dormitory that she was assigned to and gazed upon the brick structure. It was only by coincidence that the patients within had a nurse assigned to them. The hospital had always had a staffing problem, and most dormitories may have only been visited by a medical professional once or twice a day, and only briefly to administer medicine. It was almost always up to the orderlies to feed the occupants and sound the alarm if there were a truly urgent problem. Though this particular dorm had a special patient, one that some of the doctors took a specific interest in, Abigail Monroe.

Bethany opened the door and the cool breeze around her quickly turned into a vile warm musk. The odor overwhelmed her nasal passages as the stench of urine and stale feces had almost made her lose her breakfast onto the already dirty flooring. The echoes of cries and weak screams filled the hall, penetrating her ears while creating a disoriented feeling as she clutched to the door frame. She attempted to gather herself and looked up to see one of the orderlies mopping up a puddle of liquid that was most certainly urine.

“Good morning Larry.” She said while trying to control her involuntary reaction to her surroundings.

“Good morning Beth.” The man said as he continued to clean up the mess.

Larry had an iron stomach. He would have to in order to perform his duties on a regular basis while keeping his sanity. Bethany knew very little about the man except that he took his job very seriously, and had been involved at least in some capacity as a soldier in Europe during World War II. ‘Strong composure indeed’, Bethany thought to herself.

No further exchanges felt necessary as she was already briefed on the previous night’s events. Walking past Larry she entered the dayroom where most of the children spent their morning hours. It was overly crowded and mixed with both boys and girls. The budget didn’t allow for much segregation of genders as the hospital was well beyond its recommended capacity. The patients ranged from age five all the way up to age twenty. The younger kids often kept to themselves, finding whatever they thought interesting to play with while the older occupants often perched themselves by the window looking onto the outside world. Bethany sometimes wondered what was running through their minds or if they truly belonged here. In the end it was not up to her to form diagnoses or conclusions. The doctors of the facility had made it clear long ago that the nurses were merely glorified babysitters.

Bethany tried to engage in conversation with a few of the younger children around the room, sometimes holding up one of the dirtied stuffed animals and dancing it around in front of them. The children had very little reaction to the attempt at entertainment, it was as if they all wanted to stay in their own world.

“I guess I tried.” Bethany said aloud as she placed the small bear back onto the floor. She had always dreamed of actually doing some good, but in the end it always felt hopeless. She walked back into the main hall and looked around. Larry was no longer there. “Must have found another problem to fix.”

Bethany began her journey down the hallway. The doors that lined the lengthy corridor were open, each room tightly packed with multiple beds and very little open space. She could see and smell the dirty bedding within, she had hoped that today would’ve been fresh linen day, but luck was not on her side so far. Towards the middle of the hall, she opened the door leading into the washroom. The room was meant to be a place of cleanliness, a somewhat therapeutic and refreshing start to another day for the patients, but in actuality it was just another tragic but familiar sight for her. Children and teenagers alike curled up with their heads between their knees underneath the sinks. Some were crying, a couple of them rocking back and forth muttering something undecipherable, while other were simply sleeping.

She did her due diligence to make sure that none of the children were injured. She wished that she could bring them back to their rooms and comfort them, but previous attempts often came with a violent outburst from the patient. It was often best to just let them be if there were no urgent need to disturb them. Shrugging her shoulders in hopelessness and her inability to do anything more for the patients, she moved back to the main hall and proceeded to the very back of the building.

The room that Bethany stopped at was the primary reason that this particular dormitory had the fortune of a nurse in constant presence. The door was shut, undoubtably locked with only a small viewing window and a nameplate that read ‘Abigail Monroe’. Looking through the window she could see the eighteen-year-old girl sleeping under the aging blankets. There was beauty in her features, long blonde hair, green eyes, porcelain skin, but that’s where the beauty ended and the tragedy began.

Bethany knew very little about the girl with the exception of what was passed on to her by her colleagues. Each nurse had their own theories about why she was there, and in her current state. Bethany would have loved to talk to her, if only Abigail would have been able to speak. Instead she peered through the window, observing the patients behavior with a constant concern for the eight-and-a-half-month-old bulge in her belly, the confirmation of her pregnancy. She sat on the chair beside the door, picked up the Woman’s Day Magazine and began reading.

Abigail Monroe was admitted to Letchworth Village on May 14th, 1948, at the tender age of eight years old as a manic-depressive. She started out life with an exceptional loving mother and father, but it was only after her father’s deployment to Europe in 1944 to fight in The Great War that her mother began to notice signs of Abigail’s erratic behavior. Initially her mother attributed her child’s actions to the sudden disappearance of the father. There were times when the child would scream and cry day and night, throwing and breaking whatever she had the strength to pick up. While other times she sat perfectly still staring and tracing her fingers against the wallpaper in the house.

The hardship and stress of trying to care for her daughter grew larger as the time away from her husband expanded. Finally on May 8th, 1945 she heard some good news that instantly created a wave of relief over her, but it wasn’t until September 2nd that she truly knew that her husband was coming home.

The return of Abigail’s father initially provided some reprieve to her behavior, but she still seemed distant throughout the first few months. As the months and years came, her parents continued to experience the sporadic behavior of their daughter. Among the tantrums that left the pair confused and concerned, she became even more destructive especially when she ventured outside. The rocks that surrounded the residence became a new source of entertainment for the child. Occasionally one of those rocks would make it through the car or house windows, causing her father to lash out physically.

May 10th, 1948 was officially the last straw for the parents when they found Abigail laying on the grass in the backyard next to a bloodied wild rabbit. Shocked in horror, the parents rushed outside to find that the rabbit was not only dead, but their daughter was also petting and singing to it. It was that day that they felt the final loss of control over their child’s behavior and called the Letchworth Village Psychiatric Hospital.

During the first few years of her admittance to the institution, her parents would visit on a weekly basis at first, then turned into bi-weekly, monthly, and by year three of seeing no progress stopped visiting altogether.

The treatments of barbiturates in the form of promethazine and eventually lithium were only helpful for a limited amount of time. But it was the facility itself that ultimately deprived her of any meaningful progress. The overcrowding and lack of attention from medical personnel would often leave her vulnerable to the other patients, some were touchy and physically abusive, others content with only their verbal torture.

The rapes started to become even more common among the patients as she grew up throughout the years, and it wasn’t unthinkable that medical staff themselves may even have participated. Throughout her tenure at the hospital, she began to speak less and less to the other patients at first, then the doctors, and finally the nurses. Everything that she had endured fell on seemingly deaf ears and somewhere in her mind she finally began to understand her crime. It took one terrifying night in February 1956—and the actions of a truly diabolical creature—to cement her silence forever. She was now pregnant, and nobody knew who performed the act, not even her.

Nurse Bethany Taylor had gathered as many patients as she could into the dayroom while she administered the buffet of medication to each person. Most of the patients were unable to willingly move their hands and mouths due to their disabilities, so the nurse would often have to forcefully deliver the medication orally. The sound of panic and running outside of the room startled her, making her drop the spoon and turn her head.

“Beth, Beth, come quick I think it’s happening.” Larry shouted from across the room.

Bethany raced toward Abigail’s room, looking through the small window she instantly noticed the girl crying and holding her belly in pain. In her haste, she fumbled with the key ring in her pocket, desperately trying to find the right key to the room. As she finally found the right one, she gave the order to the concerned orderly. “Larry, get the wheelchair and call the Doctor now!”

Abigail was rushed out of the dormitory with Bethany pushing with all of her might to get to the emergency room as quickly as possible. Some of the other nurses and orderlies not privy to the information about Abigail had a confused look on their faces as she sped past them. She reached the large stainless steel doors to the emergency room, who were held open by the alerted Dr. Henry Mason. Pushing past, the doctor quickly followed behind until they came to a stop at the padded operating table. In tandem, the pair quickly propped Abigail from the wheelchair and laid her across the bed.

Bethany stood next to Abigail, squeezing her hand in an attempt to comfort her but the pain and panic of the event made her oblivious to the gesture.

“I will be right back; I need to inform the director.” Dr. Mason said as he darted back out of the door and picked up the phone on the nearby wall.

“What the hell is taking so long?” Bethany muttered as the breathing and screams intensified in the room. Only seconds had passed, but in this instant it felt like an eternity. Dr. Mason came back into the room, along with his physician assistant, Jacob.

“Let’s get her head propped up, take this pillow.” Dr. Mason ordered Bethany.

She took the pillow and tried to place it as delicately as possible underneath Abigail’s head as Dr. Mason and Jacob placed the soon to be mother’s feet into the metal holding clamps, bending her knees in the process and preparing her for the delivery. In a rhythmic motion, all three of the staff assisted each other, hooking up biometric monitors, grabbing warm moist towels, and a sterile set of medical tools. It didn’t need to be further verified by the cries and screams from the girl, but the doctor routinely double checked to make sure that Abigail’s eyes had dilated. He checked the EKG, or electrocardiogram for anomalies. Everything seemed in perfect order, while they tried to calm Abigail for what was now inevitable.

Abigail’s breathing began to slow down, and the EKG started to ease from the erratic beeps that it exhibited only moments prior. Turning his head, Dr. Mason looked through the large rectangular glass into the observation room to find the director curiously looking back at him. Dr. Mason gave a thumbs up signaling that everything was under control, and now it was merely a waiting game while the adrenaline in each of them wore off. They each took a moment to catch their breath until they heard something alarming coming from the EKG.

Dr. Mason raced to the monitor and noticed that Abigail’s heart rate was spiking. He tried talking her into remaining calm, but she gave no sign of acknowledgement. Jacob was even more alerted when he noticed something else toward the foot of the bed.

“Dr. Mason, quick.”

“Oh dear god. I need those towels Beth, now.” Dr. Mason said as Jacob pointed out the pool of blood forming between Abigail’s propped legs. The beeps from the EKG intensified again as Abigail began tossing and turning in her restraints. This had to happen now. Bethany handed the towels to Jacob while Dr. Mason prepared the epidural anesthetic which he hoped would induce more calm in the patient.

“Doctor. I see a foot.” Jacob cried out causing Dr. Mason to drop the newly filled syringe on the floor, shattering the glass. Racing back toward Abigail he confirmed what he instantly feared, the baby was coming out now, and backwards.

“What do we do?” said Jacob.

“Scalpel!” Dr. Mason demanded.

During the panic, no one bothered to notice that Abigail’s heart rate had skyrocketed to over one hundred seventy beats per minute. It was a situation not only dangerous for the expecting mother, but also the baby. Even without this knowledge, Dr. Mason quickly began performing the cesarean section and without anesthetic. Bethany and Jacob both looked away as the doctor began cutting into the patient.

In a matter of moments the screams were overtaken by the unmistakable cries of a newborn baby. Dr. Mason demanded the towel from Jacob as he lifted the infant from the mother’s uterus. Carefully, he placed the infant on the towel and began the post-delivery procedures.

Bethany was squeezing Abigail’s hand too hard to notice that she was no longer squeezing back. Looking down at the hand and then back at the monitor, she became aware of the sad realization, the EKG produced a solid flat beep and Abigail was gone.

“Dr. Mason?” Bethany called out to make him aware of the lifeless girl laying on the table.

“Shit.” He replied, as he scrambled to find the shock paddles of the defibrillator in a final effort to save the life of Abigail Monroe. He ordered the nurse to begin the charge and started to lower the paddles to Abigail’s body when he realized that there was no use. The amount of blood loss that had now pooled on the floor was a clear sign that there was no coming back. He handed the paddles back to the nurse and looked down at the newborn lying next to the mother.

The director entered the room, his face stoic and uncertain from what he witnessed through the observation room window. After a few long draws of breath, Dr. Mason had finally come to grips with what had just transpired. ‘Why the hell did he not intervene? He just stood there in the window until the final moments.’ He shook his head ever so slightly and folded the towel around the baby boy, and presented the infant to the director.

“I’m sorry Dr. Sorren. We did what we could with the staff we had available. It was just too overwhelming, everything happened at once. We all panicked.”

Dr. William Sorren took the infant in his arms and looked down. They exchanged a smile, but the doctor held back a deeper sadness within him.