Mental State

by M Gardner

  He must be nervous, Steven thought as Robert fiddled with the hair over his ears. Robert always did that when he was nervous.

  The unlikely duo of an introverted Robert and a sassy Ruby made their selections and found a table. It wasn’t too far from a taciturn Steven, his stoic expression daring anyone to mess with him. He was aware of Ruby’s eyes falling on him again. Robert was oblivious to her lack of attention as he droned on and on about what courses he liked.

  Save for his former best friend and the new girl; Steven took no notice of what was happening around him. What was the point when everyone hated him? He met Ruby’s eyes and quickly looked away. Anyone who didn’t already hate him would, as soon as they heard about Lindsay. The voice made a snide comment, and Steven muttered for it to shut up.

  Robert’s rapid-fire lecture on the benefits of raw fish to society at large abruptly ceased when he found Ruby staring at Steven intently. “You do not want to get involved with Steven,” he told her.

  “Steven?” Ruby asked. Her eyes met Robert’s. “Why is he always alone? Is he an outcast or something? Because I don’t like bullying, and I won’t be a part of mistreating someone for no reason.”

  Robert shook his head, glanced at his former best friend for a moment, and returned his attention to his auburn-haired cafeteria companion. “You don’t want to know.”

  Somehow, her brown eyes twinkled in the light of the industrial cafeteria. She leaned forward to get closer to Robert. Steven saw the tips of Robert’s ears flame red. This wasn’t the first time that Steven noticed the blush that the new girl brought on to Robert.

  “Please?” Ruby insisted.

  Robert cracked. “Okay, but I don’t think you’ll be happy with my answer.”

  Ruby nodded, her eyes searching Robert’s face.

  Robert leaned closer still, and in short whispered words, told Ruby the sordid tale of Steven. Steven assumed Robert described Lindsay’s suicide, Steven’s arrest, Robert’s moment on the stand, the trial results, and the ensuing riot.

  Ruby’s face displayed a gamut of emotions: curiosity, shock, disgust, and anger. When Robert had finished telling the tale, the mask of fury pinched her typically lovely facial features. She met Steven’s eyes. Steven got up, grabbed his backpack, and stormed out of the cafeteria.

  Steven leaned against the wall next to the classroom. He positioned his backpack to protect his shins. More than one student still felt it necessary to “accidentally” stumble into him. It hadn’t happened as often as it did, but the bruises on his legs were still fresh. If not physically, then at least mentally, he consoled himself. It was just another day in the life of Steven Bass. Each day was another journey of hateful looks, muttered comments, and open hostility. More and more, though, Steven found that he just didn’t care anymore.

  The new girl walked down the hallway from the direction of the cafeteria. Her features were terse, and when she saw Steven, she averted her eyes. Robert hurried up behind her and guided her elbow to give Steven a wide berth. “Come on, Ruby,” Robert said, and they walked down the hall together.

  Steven hung his head. The slings and arrows of his classmates didn’t hurt as much as this new shame he felt in the eyes of a stranger. Ruby had only just arrived at the school, and already she hated him. Was he destined to spend the rest of his life reviled by his peers? All he wanted was his old life back. His depression deepened, and he closed his eyes while he waited for the instructor to arrive.

  Steven sat up with a start. His thin blanket was wrapped around his legs, holding him in place. He propped himself up, his elbows sinking in the utilitarian pillow stained with sweat and tears. He blinked a few times and tried to catalog his nightmare. He had dreamed of Lindsay. She kept attacking him. He looked down at where she had scratched his legs, but all he saw were the faded bruises he had received from his peers. Lindsay wanted him to be with her. She wanted him to die.

  You should do it. You know it’s what she wants.

  Steven flinched at the malice in the voice. It taunted him every day. He flopped back down on his pillow and covered his face with his hands. Why was the voice tormenting him? Why did it want him dead? Steven pressed his index fingers into his eyes until he saw a field of stars. They reminded him briefly of he and Lindsay on the fire escape landing outside of his old apartment, lying on a blanket staring up at the night sky, the stars forcing themselves to be seen through the smog of suburbia. Lindsay was always full of wonder as he pointed out the few constellations he knew.

  The flash of the happy memory of him with Lindsay started the gears turning in his head. Each thought subsumed into the next. Why did he bother to go to school every day? He never did the assigned work. He always sat alone. Even the malice that showered him every day had started to fade. Now, they mostly ignored him. So why did he insist on going to class each day? Did he want attention? Did he crave other humans in his life so badly that even their ignoring or torturing him was enough of a connection?

  Or did he believe that there was still a chance that maybe, just maybe, someone would see through all the bullshit and talk to him? Perhaps even believe in him…

  Steven shook his head. A penny for your thoughts, he almost laughed out loud. It was absurd. The idea that anyone would speak to him, let alone believe in his innocence. They made it pretty clear what they thought of him. He was a pariah; an outcast; a being that so disgusted them that they couldn’t even acknowledge his existence. Even his best friend that had stood by him in the worst times, had abandoned him. He felt so alone. The loneliness was absolute, with only a sadistic voice in his head to keep him company.

  As if on cue, the voice intoned, End the pain.

  Steven shuddered at the voice in his head. He had made his decision. There was little value in returning to Twin Oaks High School. No one wanted him there. He didn’t want to be there. He curled up into the fetal position and cried silently. He didn’t worry about disturbing his bunkmate. Even in this mecca of lost souls, deviants, and ruffians, he was alone. So very alone.

  These thoughts bounced around his brain and faded as he drifted back to sleep. When he awoke a few hours later, more sweat and tears soiled his pillow. Lindsay had harassed him in his dreams once again. She kept telling him to kill himself. The voice was there too, and the message was clear that they both wanted the same thing.

  Steven clenched his jaw and balled his fists. He felt rage wash over him. He might be alone, but damn it, he was not weak. Lindsay’s face appeared in his closed eyes. Through gritted teeth, he demanded, “Get out of my dreams!”

  The cacophony of shattered glass was not as loud as Steven’s scream. “Stop telling me to kill myself!” He shuddered and held his bloodied knuckles to his chest. A shard of broken mirror sank into the rubberized toe of his shower shoes. He stood there shaking and stared at the missing mirror panel. The other two undisturbed mirrors showed a young man bleeding on the bathroom tile.

  His chest heaved, and his attention fell to the broken glass on the sink and floor. Hundreds of quivering figures looked up at him when his eyes met each reflective piece. The voice, for the first time in as long as he could remember, fell silent. Steven knew the voice would return, and the thought sent a shiver down his spine. No one came running to check on the noise. That suited Steven just fine. He didn’t need anyone. Steven knelt to clean up the glass fragments.

  It didn’t take Steven too long to clean up the mess he made. He wondered if he would even need to explain himself. It wasn’t as if the staff at the halfway house cared what happened within its doors, as long as the government paid them for Steven’s stay. After wrapping a bandage taut around his knuckles, he quickly dressed and made his way to the lounge.

  It was day three of his self-imposed vacation from school. Three days with the voice as his only companion. Others had come and gone, but they had their own problems to deal with. He silently endured his three days of torment. Steven looked up at a television in the corner of the lounge. The public access ch
annel was showing a children’s cartoon. Steven was too old for the educational benefits of the simple cartoon, but the sounds filled his head where the voice had resided in earnest for the last three days. Steven leaned back, closed his eyes, and let the nonsensical sounds wash over him.

  Since he wasn’t constantly battling the voice, Steven had a moment to let his mind wander. His thoughts kept returning to school.

  Had they noticed that he wasn’t there? he wondered. Were they relieved that he wasn’t there? At least he had a moment alone from their hurtful looks. At least the voice was silent – if even for only a moment.

  As if his thought created it, the voice intoned, They won’t stop.

  “They’ll find something else to focus on,” Steven muttered. “It’s not as if they want to see me there.”

  You know what they want, the voice replied. Make them happy.

  “Please just leave me alone,” Steven begged the voice.

  She wants you, too…

  Steven focused on the garbled noise from the television. He weaved the sound into a protective blanket against the trappings of his mind.

  Steven spent the rest of the week and the weekend clinging to tattered sanity. The isolation nearly drove him mad. He had to return to school for nothing else than to give him something to occupy his mind.

  His classmates muttered curses and comments as Steven walked by. Apparently, some there thought he had killed himself. As if one death could somehow cleanse the other. Many didn’t even try to hide their disappointment that the rumors of him taking his own life were untrue.

  Even the voice that always muttered missives was just background noise to the running commentary of the student body. Steven was so focused on the internal monologue that he didn’t notice that the flow of bodies in front of him had stopped. He collided with a backpack, and after realization had dawned on him, he recognized the backpack and its owner.

  Robert turned, and their eyes locked. Robert looked better than he ever had. His hair was styled and perfect; he wore a polo shirt and slacks instead of the gaming, anime, and internet meme tee shirts he usually wore. Robert stood confident, straight, and tall.

  By contrast, Steven’s hair was unkempt, but not in a good way. His clothes were not dirty, but they were wrinkled. Steven flinched at every sound.

  Robert surveyed his former friend and tried to move past him. Steven reeled back as if he had been struck, his eyes darting all around him for impending attacks.

  Robert arrested his egress and stared at the boy pariah. After a tense moment or two, he asked, “What are you doing here?”

  Steven swallowed, trying to lubricate his throat and, by extension, his voice. “I just…” he began and cleared his throat. “I just decided to come back. Graduation…and stuff.” Steven saw doubt in Robert’s eyes. And maybe my old friend, Steven thought.

  Robert inhaled to respond, but a hand grabbed his arm. Ruby emerged from the throng of students and stood beside Robert. “Robbie,” she cooed, “will you head to the cafeteria and get me a granola bar?” She met Steven’s eyes. “I’m still a bit hungry,” she concluded.

  Robert nodded to Ruby, and although it looked as if he still wanted to say something, he scurried off to the cafeteria.

  Ruby’s gaze never faltered as Robert disappeared into the crowd. Her face was a mask of disgust and contempt. Steven had no doubt what she thought of him.

  “How dare you,” Ruby seethed.

  Steven blanched. “How dare I what?” he asked.

  “Show your face here again after what you did,” Ruby demanded.

  Steven considered telling her that every day was a living hell, and he hadn’t done anything, but he knew she wouldn’t listen. She had already made up her mind.

  Steven tried to move past her, but she reached out and grabbed him by his wrinkled shirt. She slapped him across the face, and pain radiated out from his cheek.

  “You’re pathetic,” Ruby declared as she released Steven’s shirt. “You disgust me and everyone else here.” She gave him a final scowl and hustled down the hall to the cafeteria.

  Steven’s hand rose to caress his cheek. The flow of students jostled him, but he remained frozen in place, Ruby’s words echoing in his ears.

  Disgust? he thought. Everyone? He hadn’t done anything wrong. He even felt such remorse for Lindsay’s actions that the sadness had almost driven him to join her. Did no one stop to consider what he was going through? No, he thought, they only care about themselves.

  For the first time since Lindsay’s suicide, Steven felt a lingering emotion that he hadn’t known since when he and she argued. The rage surged within, and Steven was surprised. Surprised that his rage subsumed into hatred.

  Hatred he felt toward those that harmed him...

  Hatred he felt toward Lindsay...

  Hatred he felt toward Ruby…

  Hatred he felt toward…Robert.

  9 Apparition/Fracas

  Steven.

  Steven bolted upright and looked around. “Lindsay?” he asked, his voice shaking. There came no reply. He was confident that he had heard her voice. He blinked his eyes, the sleep clinging to his eyelashes. Lindsay is dead, he thought. He wasn’t dreaming, so why was he so sure that he heard her voice?

  She’s here for you.

  Steven paused and contemplated the voice’s utterance. What did it even mean? The fleeting thought of Robert bringing Ruby to see him at the halfway house enraged Steven, but the thought was immediately dismissed. They wanted nothing to do with him, so for them to come here didn’t make any sense.

  Steven.

  Steven froze; he felt icy fingers claw his back. It was Lindsay’s voice. Steven could only conclude that he had lost his grip on reality.

  Steven, I’m here.

  Steven squeezed his eyes closed. Maybe if he didn’t see her, she wouldn’t be real.

  I am real.

  “Lindsay?” He asked, straining to hear her voice in a room filled with snores. “Lindsay,” he repeated, “where are you?”

  I’m right here.

  Steven’s eyes snapped open, and he whipped his head toward her voice. It sounded as if it were coming from the long hallway leaving the communal sleeping room. He rose and crept toward the kitchen. A wave of unease washed over him when he remembered his last time in the kitchen.

  He leaned against the wall and considered for a moment that he was indeed insane, but he caught a glimpse of movement in his periphery. He turned his head, and his breath caught in his throat. He wasn’t sure if the shadow of a figure was blurry from his wet eyes or if his brain just refused to allow the shape to coalesce into what he knew it to be.

  Her ghostly image appeared to flicker in and out of existence. The only constant was her face and the familiar frown she always wore. Her face was a pale that only existed in death, and her eyes were wide and bloodshot. She wore the same clothes she had on that day in her apartment, but they were frayed and torn as if she had walked through barbed wire. Blood poured from her wound and puddled on the hallway floor.

  He could only stare at her. The voice screamed that she had come to him over and over. His brain willed his legs forward, but he seemed to be frozen in time, unable to do anything.

  Be with me, Steven.

  Lindsay’s lips were still pressed into a frown and didn’t move to match her words. She sighed, and her visage faltered, causing Steven to flinch. He closed his eyes again, only for a moment, and when he reopened them, she was gone. He looked around the empty hallway to find his beloved.

  The tears flowed freely now. “Lindsay?” he whispered, but the echo of her presence was all that replied.

  What had he just seen?

  Do what you know is right.

  Steven sunk to the floor, and his body shook. He closed his eyes, but Lindsay’s pale face was all that he could see. The voice was bad enough, but now Lindsay haunted him.

  He tried to act as if nothing was bothering him, but he kept catching glimpses of her. She
would appear in a doorway and seemingly walk through. Her movements were slow, and it looked as if she expended great effort to be there. Her voice would float down the hallway. She continually pleaded for him to join her.

  The fleeting images of her weren’t what truly terrified him. She would be standing in a doorway as he passed, and she always looked angry. More than once, he was afraid that she would lunge at him.

  Do what you know is right.

  Steven cringed. Lindsay’s voice had joined the constant bombardment.

  Do it for them, do it for me.

  Her voice undulated and compounded. Echoes overlapped, and it sounded like a demon. Now he could feel her presence and hear her voice. How long would she haunt him?

  “Please,” Steven begged the chorus of voices, “please just leave me alone.”

  I need you to be with me.

  Steven pressed his hands against his ears.

  Please, Steven. I love you.

  “Shut up!” screamed Steven.

  For a moment, Steven thought the voices had left him. The constant undercurrent was gone. He exhaled and stared at an empty hallway. He heard movement behind him.

  He spun and fell to the floor; mouth hung open, a silent scream on his lips. Lindsay approached rapidly, her movements deft and purposeful. She no longer faded in and out as if she were a ghost. The blood that pooled at her feet rolled toward him, and he drew his knees to his chest to keep it away. Lindsay’s unblinking eyes stared at him.

  I thought you loved me!

  Her lips matched her words, but her voice seemed far away. He tried to reassure her, but he found that his throat refused to cooperate.

  Lindsay nodded as if Steven had responded. Be with me, she said.

  Lindsay walked past him and through the kitchen door. Steven scrambled to catch up, but he paused at the kitchen door. His hand rested on it. He wasn’t sure if he could go in there again.