"Allegedly" by Tiffany D. Jackson, Chapters 2–4

Mary was held in the children’s psychiatric ward at Bellevue Hospital under close surveillance.

With the circumstantial evidence mounting, as well as inconclusive testimony from three separate child psychologists, Judge Maggie Brenner allowed a plea bargain, sentencing Mary to a period of up to ten years in an adult state correctional facility, where she would be kept in isolation as opposed to a lesser restrictive private treatment program.

With the circumstantial evidence mounting, as well as inconclusive testimony from three separate child psychologists, Judge Maggie Brenner allowed a plea bargain, sentencing Mary to a period of up to ten years in an adult state correctional facility, where she would be kept in isolation as opposed to a lesser restrictive private treatment program.

Brenner ordered state officials to devise a long-term, comprehensive treatment program.

Brenner ordered state officials to devise a long-term, comprehensive treatment program.

“Damn it, Mary,” Ms. Stein flusters.

Sundays are for educational field trips that we never go on and visitations.

I also have to prepare for the GED, pick a trade, and go to vocational school.

“Gray sweatshirt, blue jeans, gray sneakers, pink smock. Uhhh...wait, how you spell smock again?”

Third floor, hospice, for those literally knocking on heaven’s door, waiting for someone to answer.

Fourth floor, purgatory, for those slowly losing their sense of self; and the fifth floor, hell.

Otherwise known as the dementia ward, for those possessed by demons who took over the bodies of the people you once loved.

I don’t pry; don’t want him knowing what I’ve done either.

“So,” he says, nuzzling behind my ear. “What’s it like being the baddest chick in the old folks’ home?”

So I jump up with the book and run out of the room toward the stairs, Tara clambering to pull herself up and chase after me.

Clutching the burning radiator pipe, I cower in the corner, chipped paint splintering up my nails.

I dry heave the moment the stench hits my nose.

I’d seen commercials for the stuff between my cartoons after school, but Momma would “humph” and say things like, “That stuff is so fake. All them preservatives and chemicals...you like your momma’s mac and cheese, don’t you, baby girl?”

I’m used to being a leper, so my feelings aren’t hurt.

Thirteen dollars and forty-nine cents for a generic one at Duane Reade.

And that made me crazy, impulsive, and my favorite misdiagnosis, “hyperactive.”

On December 11th, at approximately 19:17 hours, I was dispatched to 330 E 18th Street in reference to a home disturbance.

“I didn’t kill Alyssa.”
Winters scoffs. “I’m sure.”

“Now you listen to me, little girl,” she says, finger in my face, voice seething.

Yeah, she worked here, long ago. Level one neonatal unit, was great at showing new mothers how to breast-feed and swaddle.

The streets are always packed with vendors selling oils, books, gospel CDs, bags, and cell phones.

Ms. Cooper was apparently very angry and quickly left with Mary.

Dr. Jacobs called and tried to convince her to come back for another session, but Ms. Cooper became irate, accusing him of trying to steal her money.

Kisha nods, pretending to be modest in a room full of starstruck fans.

I’d strip down to my underwear and back into a corner, my whole body trembling, waiting for her to finish her belligerent rant.

“How many times I got to TELL you. Lawd Jesus. How many! Huh? You don’t listen, you just don’t listen! Father God, why did you send me this little wretch?”

It would crack in the air before biting my skin, leaving welts the size of fists...

Next thing I knew, I was in a doctor’s office, a “friend” of Ray’s, who threw around big words like hyperactivity, neurobehavioral, comorbid, and oppositional defiant.

Go to the drugstore and pick up some prenatal vitamins.

He bucks and Sales Guy jumps back a foot.