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In
my
dark
I
hear
her
rubber
heels
hit
the
tile
and
the
stuff
in
her
wicker
bag
clash
with
the
jar
of
her
walking
as
she
passes
me
in
the
hall
.
She
walks
stiff
.
When
I
open
my
eyes
she
's
down
the
hall
about
to
turn
into
the
glass
Nurses
'
Station
where
she
'll
spend
the
day
sitting
at
her
desk
and
looking
out
her
window
and
making
notes
on
what
goes
on
out
in
front
of
her
in
the
day
room
during
the
next
eight
hours
.
Her
face
looks
pleased
and
peaceful
with
the
thought
.
Then
...
she
sights
those
black
boys
.
They
're
still
down
there
together
,
mumbling
to
one
another
.
They
did
n't
hear
her
come
on
the
ward
.
They
sense
she
's
glaring
down
at
them
now
,
but
it
's
too
late
.
They
should
of
knew
better
'n
to
group
up
and
mumble
together
when
she
was
due
on
the
ward
.
Their
faces
bob
apart
,
confused
.
She
goes
into
a
crouch
and
advances
on
where
they
're
trapped
in
a
huddle
at
the
end
of
the
corridor
.
She
knows
what
they
been
saying
,
and
I
can
see
she
's
furious
clean
out
of
control
.
She
's
going
to
tear
the
black
bastards
limb
from
limb
,
she
's
so
furious
.
She
's
swelling
up
,
swells
till
her
back
's
splitting
out
the
white
uniform
and
she
's
let
her
arms
section
out
long
enough
to
wrap
around
the
three
of
them
five
,
six
times
.
She
looks
around
her
with
a
swivel
of
her
huge
head
.
Nobody
up
to
see
,
just
old
Broom
Bromden
the
half-breed
Indian
back
there
hiding
behind
his
mop
and
ca
n't
talk
to
call
for
help
.
So
she
really
lets
herself
go
and
her
painted
smile
twists
,
stretches
to
an
open
snarl
,
and
she
blows
up
bigger
and
bigger
,
big
as
a
tractor
,
so
big
I
can
smell
the
machinery
inside
the
way
you
smell
a
motor
pulling
too
big
a
load
.
I
hold
my
breath
and
figure
,
My
God
this
time
they
're
gon
na
do
it
!
This
time
they
let
the
hate
build
up
too
high
and
overloaded
and
they
're
gon
na
tear
one
another
to
pieces
before
they
realize
what
they
're
doing
!
But
just
as
she
starts
crooking
those
sectioned
arms
around
the
black
boys
and
they
go
to
ripping
at
her
underside
with
the
mop
handles
,
all
the
patients
start
coming
out
of
the
dorms
to
check
on
what
's
the
hullabaloo
,
and
she
has
to
change
back
before
she
's
caught
in
the
shape
of
her
hideous
real
self
.
By
the
time
the
patients
get
their
eyes
rubbed
to
where
they
can
halfway
see
what
the
racket
's
about
,
all
they
see
is
the
head
nurse
,
smiling
and
calm
and
cold
as
usual
,
telling
the
black
boys
they
'd
best
not
stand
in
a
group
gossiping
when
it
is
Monday
morning
and
there
is
such
a
lot
to
get
done
on
the
first
morning
of
the
week
...
.
"
...
mean
old
Monday
morning
,
you
know
,
boys
...
"
"
Yeah
,
Miz
Ratched
...
"
...
and
we
have
quite
a
number
of
appointments
this
morning
,
so
perhaps
,
if
your
standing
here
in
a
group
talking
is
n't
too
urgent
...
"
"
Yeah
,
Miz
Ratched
...
"
She
stops
and
nods
at
some
of
the
patients
come
to
stand
around
and
stare
out
of
eyes
all
red
and
puffy
with
sleep
.
She
nods
once
to
each
.
Precise
,
automatic
gesture
.
Her
face
is
smooth
,
calculated
,
and
precision-made
,
like
an
expensive
baby
doll
,
skin
like
flesh-colored
enamel
,
blend
of
white
and
cream
and
baby-blue
eyes
,
small
nose
,
pink
little
nostrils
--
everything
working
together
except
the
color
on
her
lips
and
fingernails
,
and
the
size
of
her
bosom
.
A
mistake
was
made
somehow
in
manufacturing
,
putting
those
big
,
womanly
breasts
on
what
would
of
otherwise
been
a
perfect
work
,
and
you
can
see
how
bitter
she
is
about
it
.
The
men
are
still
standing
and
waiting
to
see
what
she
was
onto
the
black
boys
about
,
so
she
remembers
seeing
me
and
says
,
"
And
since
it
is
Monday
,
boys
,
why
do
n't
we
get
a
good
head
start
on
the
week
by
shaving
poor
Mr.
Bromden
first
this
morning
,
before
the
after-breakfast
rush
on
the
shaving
room
,
and
see
if
we
ca
n't
avoid
some
of
the
--
ah
--
disturbance
he
tends
to
cause
,
do
n't
you
think
?
"
