by C. R. Jane
“And now you’re staring at me. Have you no manners whatsoever, young lady?”
I continued to stare, flabbergasted. Just when I thought that I’d seen just about everything I could see in the prison, here I was completely naked on the bathroom floor getting lectured by a schoolmarm.
Who was I right now?
“If we’re talking about being rude, do you think you could possibly avert your eyes while I finish showering?” I asked her, trying to keep the amusement and annoyance out of my voice.
I would just leave, but something told me this ghost was relatively harmless, and the mashed potatoes in between my toes were driving me crazy.
“Well, I do say,” she sniffed. “You were the one who came into my home without permission. I was just protecting myself from intruders, as any woman would do.”
“Right,” I answered, not sure what to say. “I’m just going to be in there, if you could stay out for just a bit.”
She sniffed again but didn’t say anything, so I took that to mean she was going to let me shower.
Trying to cover as much of my skin as possible I darted back into the shower and under the still running spray.
“Your hair is absolutely atrocious. You need a hair mask and a trim immediately. How do you expect to catch a man when you look like a bedraggled rat?” came the ghost’s voice from outside the door. I guessed that was an improvement from her voice coming from inside the shower.
I ignored her, because arguing with a ghost about my hair routine seemed a little crazy and I’d reached my threshold of crazy for the day.
“Well, I never! She comes into my house, uses my shower, and then ignores me when I try and engage in polite conversation,” she muttered to herself.
“I can hear you,” I finally told her through the shower door when the murmuring continued. I was pretty sure she’d just called me a cow.
“Heard what?” she asked innocently.
I snorted and scrubbed harder at my hair. There was a jelly-like substance stuck in my strands on the back of my head, and it seemed to be impervious to water.
Something was dropped on my head just then.
“Ouch,” I yelped as it clattered to the ground. Peering down to see what the ghost had dropped on my head, I was shocked to see it was shampoo. Fancy shampoo in fact.
“Use that. I won’t be able to look at you with your hair like that. It’s too distracting,” she said through the door.
I stared at the door suspiciously as I leaned to grab the shampoo. “Can you see through that door?”
Another huff.
I was tempted to just get out of the shower then, but the shampoo was really nice and my hair was still stuck together in the back. I quickly squirted a glob of shampoo in my hand and went to work, wondering about the mechanics of a ghost being able to pick up a plastic bottle while I scrubbed.
“You’re wasting water. In my day, my students were allowed five minutes to bathe! Five minutes! You’re at least fifteen minutes in. You are not the Queen of England.”
Annoyed, I shut off the water, just as I realized that I didn’t have a towel.
As if she was reading my mind, a towel flew over the door.
When I didn’t say anything, she huffed again. “Thank you is also something a lady must always say.”
“Thank you,” I muttered absentmindedly as I stared at my filthy, soaked jumpsuit in disgust. I was going to need to shower again after putting that on.
Cringing, I slipped it on and opened the door to leave the stall. The ghost appeared right in front of me, and I stumbled backward once again.
Her lips were pursed even more than before as she scrutinized me closely. It looked like she’d just stuffed a lemon in her mouth and the sour taste was almost too much for her to bear.
“I let you use my shower. I give you shampoo. And this is how you repay me,” she said, casting a hand over her forehead like my appearance was about to make her faint. “And you smell. You’re the only creature I’ve encountered that somehow smells worse after a shower than you did before.”
“I’m just going to be going now,” I told her, slipping around her to head towards the exit, since something told me she wouldn’t take kindly to me walking through her.
“It’s decided, we’ll begin lessons immediately,” she told me after I’d only made it a few steps.
I froze. “That won’t be necessary,” I replied with an uneasy laugh. “I’m perfectly polite most of the time. You caught me at a sort of inopportune time. I’m not usually rude when I’m naked.”
I was cracking myself up today.
I resumed walking towards the exit when the ghost appeared in front of me. I grasped at my chest. “Can you stop doing that? You’re going to give me a heart attack.”
“Well it would be a better way to go than an electric chair,” she sniffed indignantly, shaking her pointer finger at me.
Well, that was unexpected. I didn’t think I wanted to know what this woman had done to garner the electric chair at a place like Nightmare Penitentiary. I mean, there were hosts of murderers walking these halls and sleeping in these cells. And none of them were headed for the chair.
“I’m just going to be heading out now,” I told her, side-stepping around her once again and practically running to the exit.
“Your form’s all wrong,” she called after me.
I made it back in the hallway and headed over to where I’d made the wrong turn what felt like hours ago.
I’d just taken a breath in relief when, with a pop, the ghost appeared right in front of me again.
Her face was somehow more of a pink than a silver, and a strand of her previously perfect hair had fallen into her face. She was exhaling loudly. Which was a little odd because I was pretty sure that ghosts didn’t breathe. She was acting like she’d had to run after me.
“Well, I never!” she howled.
“Why are you following me?” I snapped. I’d woken up under a cafeteria table wet and covered in food, taken an ice-cold shower, and now I was still wet and my clothes were still covered in food. I was not in the mood to be stalked by a ghost.
I took off on a dash, not caring about the prisoners who stared at me as I passed by. I slammed my cell door shut behind me and flopped against the wall, taking a deep breath.
“I suppose this will have to do,” came the ghost’s voice from my cot.
I let out a little scream. She was lounging on my bed, her arms behind her head, as she took in the room with that same revulsion-filled look that she’d had the entire time.
“What are you doing here?” I screeched.
“Well I can’t exactly give you lessons from across the prison, can I?” she responded calmly.
“Get out! Get out! Get out!” I yelled, officially done.
She stared at me, her mouth gaping in a very unladylike manner.
“I won’t stay where I’m not wanted,” she finally said in a very pissed-off voice before she disappeared with another loud pop.
I waited for a second, expecting her to appear again at any second. But my cell remained blissfully quiet, besides the usual howls and screams from the miserable prisoners around me.
I stripped off my jumpsuit and grabbed a clean one before laying on my bed. I was exhausted, but I was afraid to close my eyes. Where would I wake up next?
What was happening to me?
Despite my best efforts to keep awake, sleep’s call was finally too strong, and I slipped away into dreamland, where a stern faced Mary Poppins figure was ready to deliver a lecture to me.
I woke up the next morning after somehow sleeping for twelve hours straight, relieved to see that I was still on my cot in my cell. I sat up, grateful before I looked down and saw that my shoes were covered in mud.
I didn’t go outside in this prison. And the sections of the prison with dirt floors were definitely not places that I would want to find myself during the day, let alone while I was sleepwalking at night. Even the garden area Laz sho
wed me was completely covered in overgrown grass and weeds, not mud.
Before I could freak out appropriately, my cell door clanged open and a guard appeared. “Time to go to the crazy doctor,” he grinned savagely, the effect minimized by the fact that he was missing at least two teeth.
I groaned and flopped backwards as he cackled.
“Give me a second,” I told him as I got up from the bed, steadfastly keeping my gaze averted from my muddy shoes until I had to put them on.
This guard was not one of the okay ones, and he watched me hungrily the whole time I changed, although I did my best to cover myself up.
I felt nothing but dread as we walked to the prison psychiatrist’s office. My mandatory “counseling” sessions, as they were called, had thankfully been few and far between. Evidently, there were people in this prison who needed sessions more than me. Imagine that. There was no rhyme or reason to when a session was scheduled, so there was no way to anticipate them.
I sighed as I saw the familiar Prison Psychiatrist sign on the door. Like usual, the guard knocked on the door, and we waited for the doctor to call out for me to come in.
Taking a deep breath, I tried to walk confidently into the room and not give the lady any reasons to schedule more of these. The doctor spent most of the time watching me closely as she prodded me with quiet questions. It felt like she could see all the way beneath my skin.
She didn’t say anything as I walked towards the couch. She just stared at me quietly. Her lipstick today was her usual red, and she was dressed in a sleek, black pantsuit that I was immediately jealous of. What would it be like to wear something other than a jumpsuit?
I settled down into the couch, wondering how long our session would be today.
Before saying anything else, she grabbed one of her long cigarettes from the tin box next to her, lit the end with a match and took a long drag, closing her eyes almost in relief as she did so.
“You’ve had quite the eventful last few months,” she said quietly as she opened a file on the table in front of her that I assumed was mine. Strangely, it looked far thicker than it had been last time.
“Most recently, you had a near-death experience,” she commented calmly without looking up from the file.
She hadn’t said it like she was asking a question, so I just remained quiet. Dr. Maynard was silent as she continued to read whatever was in my file. I tried to surreptitiously read what was on the page. Everything that had happened at this place had definitely been unsanctioned, making me wonder who was watching me and how closely were they doing it.
With a small exhale of breath, she closed the file, as if whatever she’d read disappointed her. She looked up at me, her unnerving empty eyes once again staring at me closely.
“How have you been feeling since waking up?” she asked.
I opened my mouth to answer that I’d been fine, but right before I did that, I hesitated. Would it really be that bad to mention some of what had been happening since I’d woken up? “Things have been mostly fine,” I began slowly. “But there have been some strange things…just a few.”
Dr. Maynard leaned forward, the first show of interest she’d ever had when I’d come in here. “Go on,” she pressed in her quiet voice.
“My skin doesn’t feel like my own,” I whispered. “And…I’ve been waking up in strange places with no idea of how I’ve gotten there.”
The words flooded out then. I told her everything that occurred, including waking up this morning with mud on my shoes.
She was nodding as I finished, not looking surprised or worried at all by everything I’d just told her. “It sounds like you brought back some kind of spirit with you,” she told me. It was frustrating how placid she looked as she said that, like I’d mentioned I wanted baked beans for lunch instead of telling her all the strange shit that was happening to me.
“A spirit?” I asked, unease shooting down my spine.
“It’s hard for them to get here otherwise, so they’re always grateful when someone visits the afterworld briefly before being called back. They just hitch a ride,” she explained with a small smile, using her fingers to mimic walking.
Her nonchalant manner was about to drive me over the edge. I was cranky enough as it was…and also exhausted, which was strange with all the sleep I’d gotten last night.
“Your emotions have probably been a little extreme as well. And I would assume by the bags under your eyes that you’re also feeling tired.”
I nodded stiffly.
“What you’re experiencing at night is probably the spirit taking over. When you’re sleeping, you’re obviously in a weakened state, which leaves your body open for the spirit to take control. Think of your nightly sojourns as the spirit exploring its new space.”
I looked at her in shock. “Is there anything I can do?” I practically screeched at her, panic laced through my words.
“Well I’m sure the warden has something that would get rid of it. I’d bet there’s some kind of trinket in his office that would banish it.”
I choked at the thought of the warden being the answer to my problems. He was the cause of most of them. “So will you talk to the warden for me?” I asked, a plea leaking through my voice.
She laughed, the sound a small tinkle and barely audible. “The warden would never help a prisoner, Selena.” The creepy psychiatrist then took another long drag of her cigarette.
“Well then what can I do?”
She stood up and smoothed down her pants.
“I think this has been a good session, and you’ve made a lot of progress. We’ll schedule another meeting soon,” she told me, gesturing to the door.
I sat there shocked for a moment, thinking that there was no way that she could really be dismissing me like this. I’d taken a chance, opened up to her…actually needing help.
And she was kicking me out?
Worse honestly, was the fact that she laughed.
I stood up shakily, fighting the urge to cry. The guard was waiting for me, looking bored. Dr. Maynard closed the door quietly behind me, and I swear as I walked down the hall, I could hear her faint tinkle of laughter following me all the way back to my cell.
What a bitch.
Chapter 10
Selena
I stared up at the ceiling, idly watching water drip down beside me. Was the spirit or ghost watching the same thing right now? How did it work? Was it staring out of my eyes, or did it lie dormant until I was asleep and that was when it came alive?
It was hard to resist the urge to claw at my skin, to want to tear it open and drag whatever was there out of me. I trembled lying there. It was hard to describe how it felt, this knowledge that something was wrong with me. That you weren’t alone. An eerie feeling slid across my collarbone like someone was watching me.
I flew off the bed and started pacing the cell. I was so freaking tired. It felt like I could sleep forever.
But I couldn’t let that happen.
“A trinket in the warden’s office,” I whispered to myself, probably sounding crazy if anyone was listening. “Of course it would be in his office. It might as well be on the moon.”
A little squeak distracted me from my spiraling thoughts. I looked down to see my little mouse friend standing on his hind legs, holding what looked like a chocolate M&M. I took it politely and then set it on my bed.
“I’m saving it for later,” I told the mouse, not wanting to look ungrateful. But while I was crazy enough to talk to a mouse, I wasn’t crazy enough to eat food that the mouse was holding. Even if it was the only chocolate that I’d seen in the place, besides the bar Alaric offered me the other day or Keon sneaking me some from outside the prison.
The mouse squeaked something that sounded like it was trying to reassure me. I leaned down and stroked the top of his head softly.
“You’re all I have left in here, buddy,” I whispered to it.
He squeaked something else and nuzzled my finger. Suddenly, he froze and sni
ffed the air. Whatever he smelled seemed to terrify him, because his entire body shook and he ran away like a pack of cats were after him.
I went back to pacing.
After a while, I started to drag. I could literally feel the energy being rapidly sucked out of me. I stumbled to my cot.
“Can’t fall asleep,” I murmured, slapping myself in the face.
I put my head right under the dirty water, hoping that the cold water splashing my skin would help me stay awake.
But it was a losing battle. I went from sitting down to falling over on my cot. It was like an iron weight was suddenly covering my entire body, weighing me down.
It wasn’t long before I drifted into a dreamless sleep.
My eyes shot open as I woke up to the sensation of falling. I put out my hands in front of me just as I fell into what felt like a puddle of sludge. It was pitch black wherever I was, and the smell was completely overwhelming, like someone had gathered up the perfect concoction of feces, vomit, and rotten food and then mixed it all together.
I retched at the smell, nothing coming up since I hadn’t eaten in who knows when.
Tears filled my eyes as I tried to feel around for where I’d found myself. “Not the dark, not the dark,” I said hysterically as I began to inch forward. I hated pitch blackness, it came from when I was younger and my mother would wake me up in the middle of the night because of some kind of infraction she’d come up with that I’d done earlier in the day. I took to plugging in a night light because it was much less frightening to see what was attacking you than to have swings coming at you in complete darkness.
That fear of darkness stayed with me as I grew up. And it was certainly not doing me any favors right now.
Feeling around, it seemed like I was in some kind of tube, a tunnel of sorts. With the smell, I was pretty sure that I found myself in a sewer tunnel.
How in the world did the ghost get me in this?
I inched along, not understanding how it was possible that there couldn’t even be an inkling of light ahead of me.
