The noisy winter wind stoke violently against the barred windows of the cell-like room, along with the soft pattering of sleet, as Casina Brandon, a twenty-one years old girl suffered the after-effects of the antipsychotic drug she had been given earlier.

Except for the indistinct sound of the lighting in the outer corridor, the gentle ticking of a station clock somewhere, and the occasional squeaking of a linen or medicine cart rolling down the hall, the only other sounds apparent were an occasional scream or whine from other patients.

Most were sleeping peacefully, as Casina should have been, but her hatred for the place made her strong and disinclined to follow the rules.

The thin hospital gown was no protection against the cold air seeping through the bare, curtain less windows.

Leather straps at her hands, feet, and waist kept her from warming herself otherwise. The room was sparsely furnished, so there was little she could do to occupy herself, even if her hands were free.

Instead, she again lay pondering the circumstances that had led up to her arrest and confinement.

How she had ended up in a mental institute was beyond her.

She had committed no crime. It was her foster parents, Norman and Zelda Zack, who should be locked away. She knew her brother Jimmy’s death had come at their hands, not hers.

As she thought of her little eight-year-old brother lying dead in the Zacks barn that day, over two years ago, scalding tears wet her face. She knew that nightmare would never go away.

A life sentence at St. Christi’s Institute for the Criminally Insane was crazy.

Why hadn’t there been a trial? Or at least a hearing, to determine her innocence? She was still wondering how the Zacks had managed to pull that one off.

She sniffed, shivering, wishing she could wipe the wetness from her face and find a warm, soft blanket to snuggle in.

She lay there contemplating the matter, recalling her ill treatment by the Ivory Post PD that day, when her cell door suddenly squeaked opened. Stiffening against her bonds, she felt panic sweep over her.

She recognized the husky orderly standing in the doorway, his blob silhouetted against the light behind him. Her nemesis. Lester “Crater” McConnell.

So named because of the acne scars all over his face.

Since her arrival at St. Christi’s, this man had been trying to have his way with her.

It was as if he felt it was his right to violate every female in the place, just because he worked there. But fortunately, the head orderly always managed to prevent Crater from succeeding whenever it came to her.

Franklin Delaney knew she was young, a virgin, and intended to keep her intact, for whatever reason.

If he had any morals, it would have surprised her since it was always Franklin who forced drugs into her in an effort to keep her docile.

“Hey, babe,” Crater said, shuffling his carcass across the floor to her bed. He fumbled with her straps, making her cringe at his intentions. A large man, he easily kept her secured with a hand to her chest, as he removed all of her restraints. She gasped and lifted her hands to cover herself when he snatched away her gown, tossing it onto a chair.

He grunted with the effort it took to free himself from his trousers, the belt buckle tapping against the metal bed bringing a moan to Casina’s lips.

Trembling as she listened to his labored breathing, she made to shove his hand from her. But he caught it, just as his pants dropped to the floor with a soft thud. She groaned in protest, struggling to free herself.

“Dammit! Hold still, will ya? This’ll be over before ya know it.”

“Listen, you stupid--,” Casina began, squirming, “I...”

“Crater!” came the timely, familiar interruption.

“How many times must I tell you? Dammit.”

Crater turned to peer at his boss standing in the doorway. “Crap,” he murmured, loosening his hold on Casina.

“He must have ESP or somethin’.”

He had forgotten to close the door behind him again, Casina observed gratefully.

“Pull up your damn pants and get your butt out here!” Franklin ordered. “But Frankie...”

“Now!”

“Ah, crap,” he repeated, pulling up his trousers to join him in the hallway.

Casina lay back with a sigh of relief. Franklin to the rescue again, she thought dryly.

Still somewhat groggy from her earlier medication, she turned her head to peer out the open door. She could hear Franklin admonishing Crater for the umpteenth time.

A grin sprang forth as she imagined Crater’s face at having been caught again with his pants down. Then, a thought struck her.

She instantly sat up, groaning as a wave of dizziness and nausea washed over her. But she forced herself from the bed and hurried to snatch up her gown to cover herself.

She had to hurry before the men realized the door was still open and that she was free.

“Frankie,” she overheard Crater saying. He stood only a few feet from the door. “I just gotta have her.

I can’t stand it another day. I’m always thinking about her.”

“Couldn’t you use one of the other patients? One who’s already been broken in, Les? What’s wrong with one of them until I give the okay on this one?”

“I dunno, Frank,” Lester said.

“There’s something special about this one. She’s so pretty and all. Not like them other hags.”

“You’re right on that account,” Franklin agreed, “but you can’t go around like some Don Juan and—” He was interrupted by Lester’s shout of dismay.

“Hey, Frank! She’s gettin’ away! We forgot to lock the door!”

“Hurry, you idiot! After her!” Glancing over her shoulder, Casina saw Franklin fumblingly butting his cigarette into a nearby plant—never mind that smoking at the institute was prohibited—and giving Lester a rough shove in her direction. By the time they began the chase, she had already skidded down the long hallway and around a corner. “Shit! I think I left the ward gate unlatched, too!”

“See, I’m not the only idiot, Frank.”

“Just shut up and follow her! We can’t let her escape.”

“Yeah,” Crater wheezed. “Can’t have her ruinin’ our perfect record.”

“That’s all we need. Some stupid broad running to some honest authorities and broadcasting this all over the State. I’ll kill her before I’ll let that happen.”  

By some miracle, Casina had obtained a good lead, staying at least a corridor ahead of the orderlies. Still dizzy, weak, and a bit off-kilter, it was difficult for her to think straight, and her efforts were slower than normal.

Still, she was able to keep outdistancing the men. Had they not been negligent in locking doors, she might never have been able to get as far as she had.

And yet, although unsure of her surroundings because of her confused state of mind, she easily managed to locate an outside exit. She knew God was on her side because, fortunately, that door was unlocked as well.

She shoved it open and bolted off into the night.

The elements had increased in severity, but she didn’t care, despite the fact she had on only a thin gown.

The frigid wind churned up spirals of snow and was whipping them around in a frenzy, about the turbulent, uninviting landscape. Still, she knew she might never get another chance at freedom and could hear the plodding footsteps behind her getting closer.

If anything, only time and nature’s elements were against her now.

She realized her chances for survival on such a bitterly-cold evening were slight.

But, heavens, she had to try! Let them follow, she prayed, raising her eyes heavenward, but please please don’t let them catch me! I’d rather die out here!

She flinched at the sting of the frigid snow covering her bare feet, her desire for freedom giving her the determination to brave nature’s dominance.