Life in a now-defunct mental institution

Seconds from Death, part 3: another excerpt from the memoir I’m writing

Linda Lee Adams/Lady Quixote25 Comments

If you missed the first two parts of this, you should probably read them first, beginning with part one: Seconds from Death, an excerpt from the memoir I’m writing.

Seconds From Death, Part 3

When you’re dying — when you KNOW you’re dying — and you also know that you are not ready to die, extreme terror gives way to a calm clarity of thought. At least, that’s what happened to me. In an instant, I knew what I needed to do. I needed to stop trying to pry Carolina’s strangling hands off my throat and I needed to hit her, as hard as I could hit her, in the middle of her belly.

I remembered a martial arts move that my dad had taught me awhile back. With my vision almost gone, I let go of my assailant’s hands, placed my right arm sideways across my waist, grabbed the outside of my right wrist with my left hand, pulled my left hand in towards me, which caused my right arm to sink into my belly, and then — using every ounce of my strength — I flung my right arm out like a catapult, deep into my attacker’s midsection.

Carolina said “OOMPH!” and grabbed her belly with both of her hands. Now I could finally breathe! As I filled my lungs with air, my vision cleared and I could see Carolina looking at me with an even greater outrage, if that were possible. At any moment she was going to attack me all over again, with an even deeper determination to annihilate me.

I had to act fast. There was no time to think, only time to do.

Copyright 2021 by Linda Lee Adams @LadyQuixote

Seconds from Death, Part 2: another excerpt from the memoir I’m writing

Linda Lee Adams/Lady Quixote24 Comments

If you missed the first part of this, you should probably read it first: Seconds from Death, an excerpt from the memoir I’m writing.

Seconds From Death, Part 2

I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. Oh dear God. I can’t breathe.

My instinctive reaction is to grab Carolina’s hands and try with all my might to pry them off my neck. But the harder I yank and pull on her hands, the harder she squeezes my throat. I am very underweight at this time in my life, malnourished according to the doctors, the butt of skinny girl jokes. I don’t even weigh a hundred pounds. Carolina, being a very large woman, probably weighs at least three times as much as me.

Now she has me trapped inside a tiny, claustrophobic room, far from the nurse’s station, and no one is in the hallway outside. No one knows that I am being murdered. By the time they find out, it will be too late. I try to scream for help, but without air in my lungs, I am unable to make any sounds.

I am struggling with every ounce of my strength, trying to escape from Carolina’s strangling hands, but my desperate efforts are getting me nowhere. I see pure hatred pouring out of her bloodshot eyes, coupled with a sickening glee at the sight of my ineffectual struggle. The harder I try to escape, the harder she clamps her iron grip down on my throat.

I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. Dear God, I can’t breathe!

Suddenly I realize that my vision is going dim. I can still see the enraged, perspiring face of my attacker, framed by her short, graying brown hair. But everything else is going dark.

I lose my peripheral vision first. My field of vision is rapidly becoming narrower and narrower, as my brain shuts down due to the lack of oxygen.

That’s when I know: I am dying, right NOW!

Copyright 2021 by Linda Lee Adams @LadyQuixote