The Hospital Diaries

Anissa

The night of Eden Montgomery's escape, dozens of officers, as well as a few local volunteers from the fire department, searched for Eden to no avail. Even the search dogs they brought to the scene had no success. It began raining pretty hard that night, and that obliterated all traces of the fugitive's scent—the psycho who had complained to Officer Stafford about how unlucky she supposedly was. Funny thing, too, because it sure seemed that luck was on Montgomery's side that night. However, she did drop the one thing she had taken with her before going on the run, and that was her journal. When Officer Stafford stumbled upon it, she quickly picked it up and put it under her jacket so it wouldn't get any wetter than it already was. The officers ended their night in embarrassment and wonderment as to how nearly half a dozen officers could lose one woman who had been hospitalized for over a month. They were completely blown away that this had happened and were trying to figure out how it was even possible to begin with. They had, however, gained some insight into Montgomery's final thoughts through her journal. She had written in it shortly before going on the run, but the police hadn't had a chance to copy the newly written pages because she hadn't left her room since. Back at the station, Officer Stafford carefully opened the journal, pleased to find it wasn't very wet at all. She began to read aloud as others around her listened: "They say we should always trust our instincts. Well, ever since I ended up in this hospital, red flags and alarm bells have been sounding in my mind, saying, hey, you're being bullshitted. There is no deal. They just want to get legal revenge on you. They don't care about your testimony. I want it so badly to believe that people wouldn't be so cruel as to lie to someone who had just been through such a traumatizing ordeal. I wanted to believe that those who promised to scrap the remainder of my probation in exchange for my testimony actually had a heart and actually cared. The problem is I'm not exactly being treated like a victim. Oh, they know I was held hostage, all right. They know I lost my friend. They know my marriage went to hell. But there's something about the way they act around me that has me suspicious. I suspect that they suspect I'm responsible for Betty and Arlene's deaths—not that I am, of course. Did I like them? Absolutely not. They were mean, rude, hateful people who lived for judging and critiquing others. But that certainly didn't mean I wanted them dead. There are simply certain things you don't say and ways you don't act if you're truly nothing more than one's bodyguard. Instead, I was made to feel like a criminal rather than a victim who needed protection. Maybe all the years of being bullshitted simply have me running high on paranoia, and they were protecting me rather than making sure I stayed put so they could get the last laugh, so to speak, by throwing me in jail. It isn't like I haven't been lied to by the police before. When you've been lied to by so many people, including your own family and authority figures, how can you be trusting, and who can you trust? Every core of my being is saying get the hell out while you still can! I wasn't kidding when I said that if I actually ended up being tricked into jail, I would have eventually broken out somehow, some way, but that would take longer than if I ran from here. So tonight I need to make a move before it's too late. I don't know where the hell I'll go, but I'll worry about that once I get out of here and put some distance between these pigs and me. That includes Samuel, too. I swear that guy has always been obsessed with me, and what happened to me hasn't changed a damn thing. If anything, it's like he was more determined to rub his presence in my face, using my being laid up in the hospital as the perfect excuse. I never knew or understood what the guy's problem with me was, and frankly, I don't care. I hope that, if anything, my case will help others in the future, in that maybe the cops will think twice before they consider lying to someone. They're definitely never going to get anyone to trust them this way! It's somewhere between 9:00 and 10:00 PM now. Fucking Stafford is doing a double shift, so I've had to put up with her making me uncomfortable for many hours. Really, police protection isn't supposed to be this smothering! They don't sit right in front of your face and stare at you, or at least in your general direction. They sit outside your hospital room if you're in a hospital or outside your house if you're in a house. This is bullshit, and if they think I can't see through their shit, then they're even dumber than I gave them credit for. That's OK, though. The less they know I know, the better. I'll let them find out the hard way that I was onto them. I just have to hope the lazy fuckers fall asleep like they did last night. It was last night, when I lay there trying to fall asleep, that I realized how easy it would be to slip into the bathroom and into the outfit laid out for me for when I'm discharged and supposedly sent to stay in a safe house until after the trial, then split. I don't know if whoever was in the hall was awake, but assuming at least some of them are going to be awake or wake up, I know I'll have to move as fast as possible. The only thing I'm taking with me is this diary. I have to admit that the thought of them wondering where the hell I've gone amuses me. I'm guessing they'll feel pretty damn confident that they're going to find me, too. However, I'm gonna make damn sure that never happens. As I said, I don't know where the hell I'm going to go or how I'm going to get by, but that's something to worry about later on. I'd rather be hungry on the streets than in jail anyway. I definitely can't contact anyone I know, and I know that the few people who actually care about me are going to worry, but that's just the way it has to be. I don't want to give up my friends and family. I don't want to never see my pets again. I don't want to have to give up my possessions. But I'll be damned if I'll give up my freedom for the police!" Yet Eden Montgomery remained a constant embarrassment to the police department and forever out of reach, some assuming she was dead and others assuming she’d somehow managed to get out of the country. If anyone was helping her, it was never discovered who that person was.