An elderly woman lived in a spacious three-bedroom apartment with high ceilings. Agnes loved to step out onto her balcony and sip a cup of fragrant coffee while enjoying the view of the majestic river.
She and her husband had been granted the apartment nearly half a century ago, even before they were married, thanks to their work at the Institute of Aviation Systems.
Her husband had left her forever five years ago, and she had been alone ever since. Agnes cherished the silence and her solitude; she much preferred talking over the phone to meeting people in person.
Her son had grown up and started a family of his own, which brought Agnes great joy. Let them live happily, she thought, as long as they live separately. Why should I meddle in their lives? If they ask for advice, I'll give it; if they ask for help, I'll help.
The silence of a cozy evening alone with her favorite TV show was interrupted by a sudden call. It was her daughter-in-law, Chloe. Agnes was quite surprised, as they mostly communicated through messaging apps and rarely had a reason to call.
"Chloe, dear, hello. How are you all doing?"
"Hello," Chloe's voice trembled and broke. "The hospital called me. Mark was in an accident... he died instantly." The girl broke into loud sobs.
"What?" Agnes cried out, and then she lost consciousness.
The news of her son's death shattered her. The world spun and then vanished into blackness. Chloe was screaming something into the receiver, but Agnes could no longer hear her.
***
The elderly woman woke up in a hospital ward. There were white walls everywhere, a constant beeping sound, and a woman standing by her bed.
"Can you hear me?" asked the doctor, sitting up straight.
"Yes... where am I?"
"You're in the hospital. You fainted yesterday and have been asleep for a long time. In a couple of hours, a driver will arrive to take you back to your care facility."
"What are you talking about? What facility? What about my son? My daughter-in-law called and told me Mark died, and then I woke up here."
"I don't want to upset you, but you don't have a son, and you never did. For the past five years, you have been living in a residential center for the mentally disabled. We'll be taking you back shortly."
"I think not. I'll call a cab and go home!"
"We can't let you go alone. They'll take care of you there, don't worry."
Don't worry? That phrase would irritate Agnes for a long time to come. She wasn't crazy, after all! Where was her apartment with the cozy balcony? She loved the silence and her coffee... No, she couldn't have just imagined all of it! She needed to call Chloe; she would come and pick her up. But no one would give her a phone.
"Doctor, where is my phone?"
"You were brought here in a nightgown. What phone are you talking about?" the doctor asked, looking surprised.
"Could you let me use yours? Just for a minute. My son and daughter-in-law must be worried."
"With all due respect, I can't do that. Your institution's policy doesn't allow you to use communication devices. Though why I'm explaining this, I don't know—you wouldn't understand anyway. You have no one, do you understand? Only your roommates."
Agnes remained in the hospital for a couple more days. She tried to strike up a conversation with some of the staff, but everyone looked at her as if she were insane. When she asked about her family, the staff wouldn't answer; they would just sigh and walk away in silence.
On the day of her discharge, she was dressed in a worn-out nightshirt and a robe. Two young men put her into a car.
"What on earth is going on?" Agnes thought. "I'm normal, I'm healthy, I understand everything, and my body works just fine. That orderly has a phone just like mine, only a bit newer, and expensive headphones. Would a crazy person notice details like that? We'll see who wins this."
The car passed through a security gate and entered a courtyard surrounded by barbed wire. A young orderly took Agnes by the arm, led her into the building, and left.
"Go to the ward. I hope you aren't here for long; we're short on space as it is," a nurse said rudely.
Agnes entered a room designed for six people and sank onto a cot. Her strength failed her, and she drifted off for several hours.
***
The following week was a living hell. Even her difficult childhood during the war years, with its hunger and uncertainty, had been easier to bear. The atmosphere was one of emptiness and alienation: elderly people with dead eyes, rude orderlies and nurses, and dark corridors.
She decided to stop trying to prove her sanity, but she remained vigilant. The staff followed her everywhere, watching to see if she would do something reckless. They would be disappointed.
Many patients didn't go anywhere at all, spending their entire days on their cots. They weren't allowed outside, and the food was terrible. How she longed for her favorite cookies, and for the silence and solitude of her cozy apartment. The only entertainment was an old television in the hall—the only window into the real world.
Nevertheless, Agnes kept her wits about her and listened carefully to the staff's conversations. She noticed that at 9:00 a.m. every day, a cleaning lady arrived who always carried a cell phone. One morning, Agnes quietly slipped the phone out of the woman's back pocket. The cleaner turned around, but thinking the patient was just looking for the restroom, she pointed toward the door. Feigning a staggering gait, Agnes headed for the bathroom.
It was as if fate itself took pity on her. During the shift change, no one was watching her; she could stay in the bathroom for an hour if she wanted.
Luck smiled on her again: the phone had no passcode. Agnes didn't call her son or daughter-in-law. Instead, she called the police, pleaded for help, and told them she was being held against her will.
The man on the other end of the line told her that if she wasn't being let out, there must be a reason. People like her didn't belong among "normal" people, and he hung up.
She realized he didn't believe her, but she didn't give up. She called her best friend. They had been friends since childhood, and though they had talked less in recent years, the trust was still there. There was a knock on the bathroom door. There were no locks, of course, so Agnes had to hold the door shut.
"Oh, excuse me, I have an upset stomach. I'll be out in a second."
"Hurry up. I want you back in the ward in one minute," a harsh female voice replied. The footsteps faded away.
This was her last chance, her last minute. Thank goodness she knew the number by heart. She just hoped Elizabeth would pick up.
"Hello?" came a pleasant female voice. "Agnes, is that you? I haven't heard from you in ages."
"Yes, Elizabeth, it's me, but I don't have much time. They're holding me in a facility by force, saying I'm crazy, but it's all a lie. Please come, and call the police—they didn't believe me."
Agnes hung up, deleted the call log, and placed the phone on the edge of the toilet so the cleaner would think she had dropped it by accident.
***
Her friend acted without delay. She drove to the nearest precinct and explained what was happening. The officer on duty remembered the recent call and sent a couple of officers to check out the claim.
They arrived at the facility, checked the documents, demanded to speak with the patient, and reviewed her diagnosis. They were shocked. The conditions in which the woman was being kept did not match her mental state at all; she was perfectly sane. The lead officer realized immediately what was going on and called for backup.
Undoubtedly, Agnes had taken a great risk. If anyone had found out, her life would have been made unbearable. Either the staff had grown lax, or no one expected the woman to be capable of such a thing, but that stroke of luck saved her life.
The investigation took a long time, but eventually, everything fell into place. It became clear that Chloe and Mark had set their sights on Agnes's property.
Chloe had been constantly complaining that she didn't want to keep moving from apartment to apartment and paying huge amounts in rent every month while Mark's mother had a three-bedroom place in the city center sitting empty. She argued that Agnes should have downsized for the sake of her only son.
Mark had resisted for a long time, but he eventually gave in to his wife's relentless pressure.
"You're right, three rooms is too many for her," Mark had said. "But she refuses to sell the place. She loves that apartment, and that's that."
And so, the devious plan was born to commit his mother to a facility for the mentally disabled. On the evening Chloe called Agnes, the elderly woman's reaction exceeded all their expectations; her fainting spell played right into the hands of her enemies.
Chloe had conspired with the management of the facility, which was operating illegally, to put Mark's mother away. The scheme had been carried out multiple times before; the staff were trained to be abusive and to drive the elderly to an early grave.
The next step was to sell the apartment and share a percentage of the proceeds with the clinic's management. Mark had tried to talk to Chloe about it, but she wouldn't even consider backing down.
"Don't you understand? It's already been planned!" Chloe had shouted. "I've already picked out a new house for us and calculated everything. Just sit tight while I finish this."
Mark feared his wife's anger and didn't dare cross her.
After Agnes was rescued, the facility was shut down, and criminal charges were brought against the management and staff.
Chloe had made only one miscalculation: Mark's mother had survived the hardships of war and was used to fighting until the end. That was what helped her return to her beloved apartment. Upon learning that their plot had failed, Chloe packed her things and disappeared, cutting off all contact with her husband.
The only thing of value in that relationship to her was Agnes's apartment, which Chloe had had her eye on from the very beginning.
Mark realized his mother would never forgive such a betrayal. He decided to leave his life behind and joined a local mission as a volunteer to atone for his sins. He works there now, serving the community and helping the parishioners. Whether his mother will ever forgive him is a question left unanswered.
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