LAURA'S 72-HOUR HOLD
by Greg B. (gb9304@yahoo.com)
Part 5: Friday Night/Saturday Morning

Four orderlies dragged a frightened, protesting Laura into the bathroom, followed by an enraged head orderly, who quickly turned to a sink and began to furiously scrub her face.  The orderlies unlocked and unbuckled the restraints on Laura's wrists and ankles and then removed her patient uniform, leaving her completely naked and struggling in their arms.  A stunned Laura began to protest, but the head orderly rudely stuffed a large plastic whiffleball in her mouth.  There was a thin leather strap laced through two of the holes in the ball, which the head orderly tied behind Laura's head, beneath her hair.

The head orderly nodded, and Laura was brought into the shower area.  Her eyes widened as she was brought in front of the large frame she glimpsed that morning.  Each orderly wrestled one of Laura's limbs into a padded cuff, covered in soft blue plastic, attached to each corner of the frame with a plastic-covered leather strap.  After the cuffs were secured, the orderlies adjusted the straps to prevent Laura from struggling too much.  Laura felt the strain in her shoulders and her crotch as she felt like she was being stretched on a medieval torture rack. 

The orderlies stepped away from the frame, and Laura was confronted with a glowering head orderly, holding the nozzle of a engorged hose with both hands, legs akimbo, bracing herself with her back pressed against the tile wall.  She pulled back on a lever attached to the base of the nozzle, and a high-pressure stream of water gushed out and splattered against Laura's torso.  Laura screamed in shock as the ice-cold water pummelled her sensitive skin; she trembled violently as her heart raced.  Using all her strength to keep the hose under control, the head orderly slowly steered the stinging jet of water up and down each leg, then back up her torso, lingering on her breasts for a while, before settling on Laura's face.  Laura turned her head to each side and gasped for air as she tried to avoid what felt like a million stinging needles battering her face.  

After what seemed like an eternity, the hose was turned off, and Laura opened her eyes to see the orderlies brandishing rough sponges loaded with Lava soap.  She moaned as they aggressively scoured her with the abrasive soap.  The orderlies left no part of Laura's body untouched, giving special attention to her face and crotch.  When the head orderly was satisifed that Laura was sufficiently clean, she waved her minions away and blasted the suds off of her with the high-pressure hose.  After the hose was turned off, Laura hung limply from the frame, panting heavily; she felt like she had been dragged behind a racing boat and thrown over Niagara Falls.

The orderlies toweled Laura off and then unlocked her from the frame.  They carried her aching body back into the bathroom and dressed her in a clean set of patient clothes.  They strapped her into a straitjacket and ankle hobble, as a nurse entered the bathroom.

"We have the bed ready," the nurse said to the head orderly.

"Good.  Thank you."  The nurse nodded and left.  The head orderly turned to Laura, who was still dazed from the assault in the shower room.  "Now that you're all clean and germ-free, let's get you to bed."  She strode out of the bathroom, and the other orderlies grabbed a handful of straitjacket canvas and dragged the unresisting Laura along.  

After moving though several winding hallways, the procession stopped in a small room.  The walls were not padded, just painted off-white, with a small light recessed in the ceiling.  The only item in the room was a twin-sized bed with several broad canvas straps stretched across the mattress, each attached to the sides of the bed frame with locking leather straps.  Each canvas strap had locking leather restraints attached to it.

The head orderly picked up a leather muzzle the nurse had left at her request, and strapped it around Laura's head.  It was similar to the one she was tied in at the exam center, but it had a few extra straps on it, the purpose of which would soon be apparent.  Satisfied with the security of the device, the head orderly ordered her underlings to remove Laura's restraints and place her on the bed.  After removing the straitjacket, the orderlies place Laura on her back on the bed, quickly locking one set of cuffs on her wrists and holding her down as they removed her ankle hobble and cuffed her ankles to the bed.

They then attached a second set of cuffs on her shins, right above the first set and just below her calves, and yet another set were locked on above her knees.  This overkill was repeated for her arms; two cuffs on each wrist, and one above each elbow.  An eight-inch-wide leather belt was pulled across Laura's waist and cinched tight with two thinner belts.  Finally, the orderlies took straps protruding from the sides of Laura's muzzle and attached them to buckles on a canvas strap under her head, leaving Laura unable to lift it off the bed or even move it side to side.

The head orderly tugged on the restraints, making sure they were secure and without slack.  She stepped back and said, "Well done, ladies.  I think we can leave this patient to her own devices."  They nodded and left the room.  As she left, the head orderly looked back at Laura with a look of disgust, before stepping out and locking the door.

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Laura looked across the packed auditorium, the sea of blue mortarboards and gowns on the floor and the throngs of excited families in the stands, and smiled.  She had almost given up hope of reaching this milestone, but as she stood in line near the stage, ready to receive her bachelor's degree, a wave of euphoria washed over her.  She felt like a heavy load was lifted from her shoulders, and she could finally get on with her life at the age of 27.

Her repeated committals to the psychiatric hospital had severely hampered her academic progress.  Dr. Blymire had diagnosed Laura as a bipolar depressive after that first 72-hour hold 8 years ago, and Laura had carried that stigmatizing label like a ball-and-chain.  The label magnified any sign of stress or anger - no matter how natural or understandable - into an incipient psychosis in Dr. Blymire's eyes, to be picked apart at their therapy sessions and treated with sedatives and psychoactive drugs.  Laura would seethe in frustration at this kind of scab-picking until she exploded, which of course would only send her back to the embrace of leather and canvas restraints in the hospital's padded cells.  

In time, Laura learned to control her emotions, and managed to stay out of the hospital for almost two years.  Her nearly daily therapy sessions were cut back to just once a week, and the doctor had weaned her off of all her medications.  With a clear head, she wrapped up her schoolwork, and had an entry-level job set up at a local insurance company.  A broad smile crept across her face as she thought about her bright future.

"Laura Maryanne Granger,"  the president of the university intoned through the P.A. system.  Laura snapped out of her reverie and nearly ran across the stage to accept her diploma.  She shook the president's hand and saw her parents in the stands, her mother crying for joy, her father more reserved but visibly bursting with pride.  She waved the diploma above her head and mouthed "I love you" at them as she walked off the other side of the stage.  Heading down the short flight of stairs, she saw a familiar but expected visitor.

"Dr. Blymire?"

The doctor extended her hand.  "I wanted to congratulate you.  I'm so happy with your progress, Laura!"

Laura shook her hand and then gave her a big hug.  "Doctor, thank you so much for your help!  I feel like my whole life is goiong nowhere but up - "

Laura suddenly sneezed right in Dr. Blymire's face.  Her heart sank as the doctor wiped her face off.  "Oh, Laura," she sadly said, "I had such high hopes for you.  This is obviously a sign of troubles we haven't even begun to uncover.  You need to come back to the hospital for a while."

"What?!  No, wait, this is-" Laura's outrage was muffled by a large red ball jammed in her mouth.  The orderlies seemed to emerge from nowhere, tearing away the cap and gown and replacing them with the all-too-familiar straitjacket.  Laura screamed with rage as Dr. Blymire plunged a hypodermic into her buttock, and her surroundings dissolved into nothingness . . . 

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