Crescent Moons of Shame

As long as Sister Zelda's main enemy was Sister Emily Marie, my life was a bit easier.  As I anxiously waited for the fall out of my reporting Sister Christine, I watched more drama unfold between Zelda and Emily Marie.

In the Formation wing of the building, there was a large rec room at the end of a long hallway.  There were a set of swinging doors that opened into the room at the end of this hall way.  One day, I was in the rec room when I heard the thunder of running footsteps.  Sister Emily Marie, hit the doors, slid slightly and did an amazing U-turn and ran the opposite direction.  Sister Emily Marie's expression told me that she was running for her life.  In hot pursuit, the larger and much less agile, Sister Zelda came thundering after.  Sister Zelda's  legs pumped madly as she tried to maintain her balance and execute a turn.  Her black nun shoes made a huge black skid mark on the floor.  She came flying through those swinging doors and landed on her side.

She wasn't down long but up and running after Sister Emily Marie.   Fortunately, Sister Emily Marie was able to elude her pursurer.  I sat stunned into silence for a while.  Then decided I just had to find someone so I could tell them what had just happened.  As I headed out the doors, I met Sister Felicity.  Felicity spied the huge skid mark on the otherwise perfectly waxed and shined floor and demanded to know what had happened.  Never one to rat out a colleague, even a rather frightening and sometimes despicable one, said,  "I don't know, Sister."

I felt sorry for Sister Emily Marie.  Later when I should have felt sorry for myself, I felt shame instead.  Sister Zelda seemed to require an enemy among the ranks.  It was soon my turn to fill that role for her.

I have no memory of what we were arguing about that day in the rec room.  We were alone.  No witnesses anywhere.  Zelda was hopping mad at something I said.  She raised her arm to strike me.  I was tiny then.  Sister Zelda outweighed me by close to 100 lbs. but I had grown up with lots of siblings who had often engaged in hand-to-hand combat.  My reflexes were lightening quick.  Before she could hit me, I had firmly grabbed both wrists.  With tears in my eyes, I begged her to think about what she was doing.  In my fervor and iron-like grip, my fingernails happened to pierce the soft skin on the inside of her wrists.  I had emerged unscathed.  Zelda had signs of physical attack.

Zelda didn't have live by the same code of honor as I.  She was quick to rat me out and make me look like the aggressor.  After all, it was a bit hard to believe that I could have held off my Amazonian-built classmate. A little adrenaline can do wonders.  She got sympathy for her cuts and I received another nail in my coffin.  The powers that be were now convinced I was unstable.  In fact, I heard one of the Sisters say that
"Insanity runs in her family.   Old Sister Mechtilde was her great aunt.  Remember that Mechtilde spent the rest of her life in the state hospital."

Had I had my wits about me, I would have bailed at this moment and said, "The hell with all of you."
I didn't.  I felt terrible that I had hurt Sister Zelda, even though it was a clear case of self-defense.  After all didn't Zelda bear my "crescent moons of shame" on her arms?  Unfortunately, getting someone to believe me didn't seem possible and I began to question myself and of course my sanity.  I had to be at least slightly crazy to stay.  By then I had invested a significant amount of time not to mention, blood, sweat and tears.  Part of me knew that I wasn't what they were making me out to be, in fact, at times, I knew that I was probably the sanest one there.  Unfortunately, when you're trapped within a crazy system and things happen that defy logic and reason, it's hard not to fall prey to the "group think"   Ah, the Stockholm Syndrome again.
"Patty Hearst you did what you had to do in my book.  I get it!  Rock on, Patty, rock on!"