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Jennifer Holly
By: Brittany Rivera
I do not know how long I’ve been here, or how long I’ve been asleep. I am not able
to tell you what day it is, or whether it is morning or night. But today, I woke up. It is
extremely dark in here, with the exception of one lamp that manages to stay lit despite its
constant flickering. There is no furniture in the room except for a metal twin size bed in the
Left corner. The floor is freezing and wet due to the water dripping from the ceiling. The
walls are bare, while grey paint chips off piece by piece. The room, or cell I should say,
echoes my screams for HELP! It is useless; no one can hear me but myself. I am stripped of
anything I could possibly own. My ID, my wallet, cell phone, keys- nothing. Quickly, I notice
I am wearing a white dirty gown. This leads me to believe I have been here for quite some
time. How did I end up in a place like this? Am I being looked for? I need to think back to
my most recent memory. I have been stripped of all I know, and all I remember.
My name is Sasha Winsky; I am from a small neighborhood called Bensonhurst in
Brooklyn, New York. All my life, I have tried to do the right thing. Back home, I live with
my Momma and little sister, Scarlet. My Dad was never around much; after he and Mom
divorced, he went off and found a new family- a better family. But let’s be real, no one is
better than Momma. She is so beautiful. She has long brown curly hair down to her lower
back, with a smile that lights up any room. She always makes sure we stick to our
traditions every year; if it weren’t for her, we wouldn’t have any. One of my favorite
traditions each year is when Momma gathers the family together just after the snow hits
hard to go sledding in Owls Head Park. She makes hot chocolate for the kids, and chicken
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broth for the adults. The chicken broth is my favorite. My Dad is never going to find
someone like Momma and he knows it. She made the decision to divorce because she was
tired of his shit. Well, that’s what she said to him one day when I overheard them on the
phone. My little sister Scarlet was only eight but she was well aware of what was going on
with our parents. She had to take it from both sides. On weekends she would have to hear
Dad complain about how unreasonable my mom was being in the divorce, and then on the
weekdays she had to hear momma screaming about new reasons why my father should go
to hell. I can’t imagine what she was going through, all the thoughts and negativity her little
mind was being consumed by. I should’ve never left her. But once I got my first
opportunity to leave home, I took it. I love them very much, but I needed to get away for
myself. I went off upstate to study at the University. I always wonder what I am missing at
home, or if Scarlet resents me for leaving her during such a crucial time. To make myself
feel a bit better, I just say that one day Scarlet will understand my reason for leaving, but
that day will only come when it is her chance to leave, as well. Then we will talk about it
and cover any questions she may have kept bottled up throughout the years.
As far as my personal life is concerned, to be honest, I can’t think back to the last
time I truly felt happiness. I thought maybe leaving home would give me more freedom in
finding myself. I know, right? What a cliché thing of me to say. Nonetheless it’s true. I had
no idea what I wanted to do with my life; I wasn’t working, and I was more concerned with
helping my boyfriend fix his problems than I was trying to fix my own. “You can’t always
be a hero,” momma said to me that one time I called her in the midst of a breakdown. I was
so overwhelmed, and I knew only she would know what to do. Although, I should mention
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that I barely ever tell her anything. She usually has to force information out of me. She says
it’s a phase, but she doesn’t quite understand that I have just always preferred to keep to
myself. The less people know about me the better, even if that means my own mother. I
only want people to see the positive side that I have to offer. But the day I called momma,
she knew I needed her. I had a hard time fitting in to any specific clubs or groups because I
wasn’t sure what I would be good at, and I was a little nervous to just throw myself into
something that I was not sure I would be able to handle.
My boyfriend, Lucas, and I have been together for a little over a year. Needless to
say, these fifteen months have felt like an eternity, in a good way, but definitely not easy. He
has become such a large part of my life in such a small period of time. We have so much in
common. We started to rely on each other for happiness when shit hit the fan. We helped
each other through what it felt like all of our struggles. I do love him, but sometimes I take
on a lot more than I can handle. I tend to make his problems my own because they affected
me just as much. I was trying to balance everything out with both our lives, while also being
long distance. He is back home in Brooklyn, and I am in school. It’s hard. He doesn’t have
such a supportive family; I can’t ever understand why they don’t appreciate him the way I
do. My mother looks at him like her own son. Which wasn’t easy coming from her. She
tends to be judgmental of the people I date. Well, of all men in general.
The room is starting to get colder, and I am growing more and more hungry by the
second. I get up from the bed to scope out the room a bit further. My body is so weak, and
my back is in a lot of pain. I hold on to the wall for support to keep my balance. The walls
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are cement and extremely thick, no one would be able to hear me if I screamed. But I still
do anyway. I walk towards the large metal door; it is locked and nearly indestructible. I
need to remain calm in order to find a solution, but I am not calm, I am panicking. Who
would want to do this to me? What could they possibly want?
A sudden knock on the door after what has felt like an exaggerated amount of time.
I jump physically, and to many conclusions. I fear this could be the end of my life, or the
beginning of hell. Nothing could be worse than this moment. Whoever is at the other end of
that door has my life in their hands, and I am helpless. I hear no words, but suspicious
mumbles through those large metal doors. I may be oblivious to my situation, and the
words coming from the other side of that door, but I know the sound of keys when I hear
them. Keys jingling; I step further away from the door. A Loud creek echoes the empty
room, while the door swings open.
“Hello, Ms. Holly. It’s time to eat something before the doctor gets here,” the gentle voice of
a very old nurse speaks.
“Who are you? Where am I!” I stand there shaking.
“Oh, Dear. This happens quite often with the young pretty ones like you. They never know
when to shut up and just accept their punishment for being a bad girl!”
“I don’t understand! I don’t remember anything, and I’m scared. Please, ma’am. Explain to me
what is going on here. I don’t recall how long I’ve been here, or how long I’ve been sleeping.”
She sets a tray of crackers with jam, and some tea on the bed.
“Ms. Holly, you need to relax and wait for the doctor.”
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“Ms. Holly-, why do you keep calling me that? My name is Sasha Winsky. You have the wrong
person.”
“Well that is your name here, you see.” She points at the name handwritten on a paper folder.
“Won’t you please tell me where I am.” I look her deeply in the eyes.
She sighs, “You are at the Hudson Valley Insane Institution and Rehabilitation Center For
Women.” She looks away quickly and leaves the room, leaving me no time to ask questions or
fathom this moment. I chase after the door to hold the knob from locking, but it’s too late. She is
gone and I am left here alone.
In anger, I throw the tray across the dark, lonely room, painting it with velvety glazed jam, and
crunchy white, lightly salted crackers. The hot green tea spills slowly across the floor, covering
the wet odor with the peppermint scent. I sit on the bed staring at the stream of tea go across
the room.
“Holly, Holly,” I annoyingly repeated to myself. Trying to see if it rings any bells. Some
minutes go by before I hear some more muffles. Footsteps from a distance come closer and
approach the door. Once again, that loud creak as the door swings open. This time, it’s a man in
a white coat, with a red and blue pen in the pocket. He is tall and intimidating. His salt and
pepper comb over brings out his light blue eyes. His hands are large and hairy, but I instantly
notice a wedding band on his left ring finger. “He can’t be too evil if he’s married,” I think to
myself for reassurance.
“Ahh, Jennifer, at last. It was hard finding you, you’re a difficult one to keep up with.”
“Find? You found me?” I ask, only growing more confused by the second.
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“I need you to explain to me what you recall about the night you were brought in here,” he says,
testing my sanity.
“I don’t remember anything, and I do not understand why you called me Jennifer- that is not my
name.” I grow frustrated that no one is listening to me. “Explain to me how I got here!”
“Last night you were brought in by the Hudson Valley police department. We put out an alert
that you had ran away from the institution last week. So when the police found you, they
brought you back. How are you feeling? We need to discuss the reasons why you ran away.”
I almost believe that maybe I am Jennifer Holly, and I made up this Sasha Winsky person.
Maybe I do belong in this place. Instantly I focused on the fact that he said the police brought
me “back” here. How did I get in contact with the police? I start to dig a little deeper into my
memory.
“What is today’s date?” I ask eagerly.
“It is Sunday, October 11th.”
He said I was brought back last night. I’m still Upstate, so I must not be too far from school. The
incident had to happen while I was at school. It’s the only thing that makes sense in this
moment.
“Is everything alright Ms. Holly?” He asks, hoping to hurry along and get his job done. I put out
my hand and wave it as a signal for him to be silent.
Slowly, flashbacks of last night begin to invade my mind. Saturday, the 10th, was the first club
party of the semester. Everyone was looking forward to it all week. I had a pretty long week so
I was especially excited to go out. My friends were hosting the party so they had a pregame at
their house before hand. As soon as I got there, drinks were being thrown at me left and right. I
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remember the main issue my friends and I had was getting into the party. It was 21 and over to
get in, and we were all 20 and younger. My friends were always pros at getting into places like
these, but never me. I always avoided going places I didn’t belong because I knew how
embarrassing it was to get denied in front of everyone. A couple of random guys at the pregame
assured me that they would be able to get me in. I just needed to meet them 15 minutes before
the party.
It’s all coming back to me almost clearly. Safe to say I got pretty wasted at the
pregame; I was in no condition to go to this party. But I went anyway, because at that point
there was no stopping me. My friends and I met up with the guys a few blocks away from the
club, they handed us each an ID that best suited our physical traits, and said, “These should
work.” I didn’t pay much attention to the ID that was handed to me. All I noticed was that the
girl in the photo and I both had long brown hair, and her smile was slightly similar to mine. I
tucked the Id in my coat pocket and we parted ways with the guys. I remember my friends
being rather loud, calling a bit of attention to us.
Red and Blue lights came up from behind us as we walked up the hill. The sirens
went off, and a voice from the speaker told us to stop walking and turn around. So we did just
that. All of us were way too wasted to even comprehend what was happening or get scared
enough to be concerned. The Officers step out of the car and ask each of us for identification. As
everyone began taking out their identification, I couldn’t help but think that I left my ID and
credit cards at my friend’s house. The officer approached me saying “Do you know why we are
stopping you ladies tonight?” in a rude macho, tone.
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“No officer, what’s the problem?” I asked, even though I knew very clearly what the problem
was.
“You ladies are clearly intoxicated, and disturbing the peace. Not to mention you ladies don’t
seem to be of age to be consuming alcohol. Let me see your ID,” he demanded.
I felt I had no choice but to hand in the only ID I had on me. The officer looked at the ID long and
hard before he walked over to the car. “Stay right here.”
I got nervous, I was about to get arrested for giving the officer false identification. I heard him
radio some sort of police code and say that he found the fugitive suspect. I had no idea what he
was referring too. All of my friends were being given tickets, while I was pulled to the side for
questioning. I tried to explain to the officer that that was not my ID, but he could not take any
chances.
“I know how I ended up here!” I jumped up, with my eyes opening wide.
“Please, do tell me,” the doctor responded quickly.
“Last night I was given an ID to get into a club 21 and over. The cops stopped me and that was
the only ID I was able to give them. I am assuming that Jennifer Holly is the name on the ID that
was given to me. My name is Sasha Winsky and I can prove it to you, please let me call my
mother and have her send over necessary documentation.” The doctor looks hesitant to believe
me, I saw it in his eyes that he couldn’t keep up. I know, I sound just as crazy as I look.
“You can prove this to be true?” he asks, to my surprise.
“Yes! Yes I can. If you allow me to make a phone call I can clear up all of this confusion.”
“Ok then, follow me to my office and you can make the call.”
