by Zoe Parker
Grabbing the tray before I decide to toss it in the garbage can on the end of the laundry cart, I hold it out to him. With that deep look, he gingerly plucks the cup off the tray, as it gets closer to his face, I watch the disgust fade and his eyes brighten as he tilts it up downing it in one long swallow. I stand there like a mute dumbass and watch the muscles in his throat work, wondering what it’d be like to touch him there. If the skin is as soft as it looks, if it… holy fuck. The wrinkly skin of his neck starts to tighten visibly and when he looks at me again his face—his face is at least 20 years younger.
I lean one hand on the doorframe to steady myself from the sudden onset of dizziness.
What the fuck?
“You’ve been upstairs?” he asks in that same tone of ease.
I try to talk only to find my mouth too dry to form words. Sucking on my tongue to get some saliva in there I clear my throat and try again. “Yes.”
Needing to do something other than gape at the old man who isn’t old anymore, I walk around him and start stripping his neatly made bed. There’s a thin layer of dust on the threadbare cover which makes me wonder if he ever uses it.
“Are you at all curious why they restrain them?” I am, but I don’t say that.
Instead, I say, “Why do I feel like you should be on the third floor with them?”
He chuckles and says, “They think they have tamed me.”
Balling up the dirty blanket and sheets, I set them on the floor while I put on new ones, whether he sleeps on there or not he needs a clean one. It gives me something to do other than asking the million questions I have. I know they haven’t tamed him if nothing else about today is true, that is. Carefully coiled violence lay just under his skin. His younger skin. I try to avoid looking at him but fall in the trap despite myself.
He looks my age now, probably even younger. His hair is long and as white as his eyes, his face is—Christ, his face is beautiful. “No one should be as pretty as you are, Vale,” I mumble and head into the bathroom which is used, thankfully. At least I know he pees like everyone else. Going back to the cart with the basket full of dirty towels, I dump them in the bin and grab clean toiletries and cleaning supplies.
A quick scrub later I come back out into the room to find Vale blocking my way. Using my wrist to move loose hair out of my sweaty face, I frown at him.
“You can almost see the truth of this place now, can’t you?” he says smiling. I drop the bottle of cleaner. All his teeth are back long, sharp and as white as his hair. I can see this fact with both eyes.
“The truth? Well, Vale, the truth is I probably belong in here with you and might end up that way before it’s all said and done.”
“I can’t allow that, Beautiful. They would break you in here,” he says stepping closer to me, his smile dimming. “What if I told you that this place is a prison for creatures like you and me?”
“I’m calling the authorities when I leave here.” His fingertips lightly touch my elbow, he leaves them there while he bends down and picks up the cleaner, which he hands to me.
“No, that will do nothing more than put you in danger.” I feel his frustration, unexpected as it is. “Soon you will understand everything, Melantha. I’d explain it all right now, but I don’t think you’d believe it, and the game of denial you’d play would take too long.” His thumb strokes my skin before he pulls away, reluctantly. “There’s a reason you’re here, and these fools have no idea what they have let loose in their zoo.”
I hear his words, I do, but my brain is foggy and not ready to deal with them.
“My blood made you younger,” I say in a rush.
He nods his head but remains silent.
“How much more will fix you completely?” Those eyes light up, and he leans his face down to the level of mine. Knowing exactly what I’m asking even with me trying to find a diplomatic way of saying blood.
“A few drops of yours every day or ten full-grown men.” I almost laugh until I see he’s being completely earnest.
“I’ve flipped my lid, haven’t I?” I blurt out.
“Oh, not in the least. You’ll see that soon enough. I’d say rather sooner than you’d like.” Quick as a snake he kisses the corner of my mouth and then withdraws to sit on the edge of his bed, making a face as it squeaks from his weight.
I think that it was meant to be a more graceful exit from the conversation. A laugh creeps out of me, and I’m still laughing when I finish the next two rooms. On the third I’m doing everything I can to keep from crying, I don’t want to be crazy.
Out in the hallway after the last room, I’m staring at the ground contemplating leaving early with some made up illness when I walk right into a warm body. Strong hands straighten me up, and I look up into the bright eyes of Vale.
“I realize that I no longer have the social skills I once had. You are not safe in your ignorance. Come back to me before you leave for the day, I’ll explain things the right way.” Once again, he releases me with that odd reluctance and turns to go back to his room. For several seconds I stand there staring at his doorway before I give a long sigh.
Every room I clean, every miserable person I see, makes me question my doubt about everything. It makes me think that maybe, just maybe, I’m not losing my mind, that perhaps I’m seeing something new and different for the first time in my black and white life. Maybe. Or maybe I’m so far gone that I’m laying drugged up on a hard bed in some random hallway with flickering lights and orderlies eating their lunches while laughing at the delirious woman babbling about vampires and dragons.
Leaning against the wall of the elevator that I finally managed to get everything into, I let my shoulders droop as my poor mind tries to fix the fracture that’s getting wider by the minute. I’ve always trusted my instincts, even when they went against logic. They never steer me wrong. It’s when I don’t listen to them that I end up in trouble or almost married to a guy who still gives his mom foot massages in the bathtub.
Right now, those instincts are telling me this is all real. That this place, these people in it, this weird shit I’m seeing is ALL real. While my logic, as fickle as it usually is, says it’s absolutely impossible. Dragons and zombies and fairies and beautiful white-haired vampires can’t exist. Don’t exist. Human beings don’t believe in such things. But I can hear them, see them, smell them. My fingers trace over the still tingly corner of my mouth. Feel them, I can feel them.
Can a hallucination be that vivid?
The doors open, and I struggle to get both carts out of the elevator, without any assistance from the guards who ignore my presence. Assholes. I’m having a mental crisis, and one of them is looking at Playboy.
“I’m surprised you’re still alive. I’m betting you’re dead by the end of the week.” The fatter one of the two says, his face is unfamiliar. How often do they switch guards here?
Ignoring him I move on and discover now that I have a rhythm I can move more quickly. As before, some speak to me but most don’t, and this time I have to go into their rooms. The keys are thrown at me; I barely catch them before they plow into my face. “Thanks, asshole,” I mutter.
These rooms are not as well kept as the first floor, but at least they have bathrooms. I offer the same things as before. I end up helping a few bathe and all of them into clean clothes. I change all their disgusting bed sheets. I swear I don’t think anyone has cared for them in months. Maybe longer. With some elbow grease, I even manage to scrub their bathrooms to some semblance of clean.
Most of them don’t talk, but some do. I at least learn some of their names and not even one tries to hurt me. They don’t like the guards though, not one bit. When I was bathing Samson, a lovely little leprechaun—seriously, his skin is even green and he’s sad because they took his gold coin—stopped by to say hello. During that time, he sat on Samson’s bed, his short legs swinging as he told me his entire life story. I plan on getting his coin back the first chance I have. It’s sitting on the desk with a few
other belongings from the people I’m caring for. One in particular is a dirty teddy bear that’s seen better days, but Lila’s Mom gave it to her before the magic hunters killed her. All because she’s a pixie.
At this point, I’m not second-guessing any of these things anymore. It takes too much energy. I’ll break down later. They need me to have it together as much as possible. It’s not like anyone else gives a fuck about them.
The second floor is done much more quickly than I expected. I leave them with their dinners and clean rooms and head up to the third floor. Coming off the elevator, I slam into the floor before I even have time to look around. Above me, laughter beats down on me.
Climbing to my feet, I look down at my poor knee. The uniform is intact, but I can feel the sting beneath the rough fabric. There’ll be a hell of a bruise tomorrow, and it’s possible that there’s a bit of blood. Brett, pokes me with his finger, pushing me a little and laughs harder.
“Aww is the new girl gonna cry?” Who the hell talks that way?
“Are you fucking ten?” I demand, relaxing my stance in preparation to break his fucking fingers.
“Brett, get over here. She’ll be gone soon enough. You can laugh then.” The pointy chinned one calls.
“I thought you didn’t like the third floor, Brett?” I ask him, pleased to see his face pale.
“He has to work it just like the rest of us, the pussy.” Pointy chin teases. Brett’s face turns red, and he glares at me.
For a moment he contemplates hitting me, I can see it clearly on his face. Something stops him, luckily for him, I really will break his fingers. Maybe he realizes I’ll make good on my threat or perhaps he decides to use his brain, either way, he goes back to the door and shuts it leaving me out in the hallway. I push the button and wait. I might break his fingers anyway.
The door buzzes, when it opens, I wheel the cart in. Brett laughs from the desk, choosing to take the higher road, for now, I start opening doors. This floor is going to take me the longest. I grit my teeth at the condition of the first patient. He’s probably 13 or 14 at best and is covered in sores and filth. I don’t miss the stripes of a belt either.
“You ready for that bath now?” Studying me a moment out of moss green eyes he then smiles and exposes the only two pointy teeth in his head. Reminds me of a snake, in a cool way. I go out to the laundry cart and open the side door. Connie told me anything I’ll need would be in it, so I dig around inside until I feel the metal of a small hip bath. Pulling it out I look back inside the cart’s dark emptiness. I shut the door, open it and look again.
How the hell does that work?
I dig around for the shampoo and soap I’ll need. My hands find what I’m looking for, I decide on not questioning it. I grab a stack of towels then head back into the room.
“What’s your name?” I ask sitting the tub down.
“Min,” he answers in a voice that doesn’t match the youth of him.
Shit, I need water. Well, I’ll try the magic cart again. Ha, magic cart. Opening it up I pull out the bucket I need and turn to the taps that are on the wall between every room.
Honestly, I can’t say I remember them being there before. It’s not the strangest thing I’ve experienced today, so I roll with it. After a few sputters, the rusted faucet awards me hot water. Five buckets full of water later, the bathtub is full, plus I have enough to rinse with. I turn my back to him, so Min can undress and get inside the tub.
Nudity doesn’t faze me, I’ve worked with infirm people before, it’s a bath, not a date. He smiles at me when I turn to him with soap in hand. He’s still grinning a few minutes later after he’s scrubbed his skin hard enough to make it pink. After we wash his hair, I pull a stool over and start combing through the matted strands.
“You’re not like the others. You’re like us,” he says, still smiling. His eyes are closed, and his head is resting on my knees.
“That’s what I keep hearing,” I tease. “If I hurt you I’m sorry ahead of time, your hair is a bit fu—fudged,” I catch the cuss worse at the last minute.
“This is a great kindness.”
“Na, it’s a bath. Kindness is me attempting to cut those dagger toenails of yours. That we’ll save for tomorrow.” He giggles at my words.
“Who injured your knee?” The smile has faded off his face, and his green eyes are on me. Finishing up with his hair I pat his peach-fuzzed cheek and tilt his head up, so I can stand. At this stage in my day, I don’t even ask how he knows about my knee.
“One of the fairy fuckers,” slips out.
His full-bellied laugh makes me chuckle with him.
“He’s not a fairy, but they think their little butterfly wings makes them special.” Interested, I turn so he can stand and wrap a towel around himself, giving him as much privacy as I can. He’s like the millionth person I’ve helped get clean today.
“So, what are they?”
“They were mostly human once upon a time. Their otherness was a payment for service, they’re not born like us.” That’s another person hinting that I’m more than human. What the hell do I do with that?
“They’re dicks,” I add.
“Truer words have never been spoken.”
I dash out to the cart and get him clean clothes, including the hospital socks. The cart provides all I request. I could get used to this. He’s dressed and clean and is now eating his food on his changed bed. I straighten up the room as best as I can, including tossing the shit bucket down the garbage chute. Snooping around in his space I find a door, that’s locked of course, and after 20 tries I find a key that fits it. When I open the creaky door, I discover a bathroom. Dusty, unused but intact and when I turn the spicket water comes out with no issues—the toilet still flushes.
Now, what the hell is this?
Min is standing when I come out of the room that I leave unlocked. I put my finger to my lips and, “Shhh.”
He mirrors my movement, and I wave to him as I grab his discarded dishes and move onto the next room. We won’t tell the guards that I left his room unlocked too. I did the same thing on the second floor with no regrets.
The frail old man turns from his spot on the floor when I enter.
“Are you an angel?” he asks in a raspy voice.
Fighting tears, I go through the process I went through with Min, except I help him shave the beard off his face. I find a bathroom in his room too, which I leave unlocked.
Every room in this place makes me hate the people who run it a little more each time. Until I get to the final room. Vale’s almost twin. Now that I’ve seen a younger version of Vale I can get away with saying that. They look so alike it’s freaky. I wonder if they’re brothers? I should ask.
As I walk into the room he doesn’t turn to greet me this time, I immediately see why. Blood is pooled thick around him and in little offshoots trailing towards the door. I quickly grab a bunch of towels and run to him, carefully I move him enough to check for a pulse and find a weak one, but it’s still there. I need to get their doctor. I’m not an idiot I know he’s dying. All that blood would kill anyone.
“No… I’ll heal.” His words stop me dead in my tracks.
“Jesus, you’re bleeding everywhere. This is more than I can fix.”
“You sound as if you care.” The cynicism in his voice is thick.
“Of course, I care, I’m here still, aren’t I?” His quiet chuckle turns into a wet cough. “Who did this to you?” I ask quietly, gently pushing against the wounds on his chest with the towel that becomes immediately saturated with blood.
Panic is teasing me. I’m so out of my fucking depth here. What if he dies?
“I’ll heal once I feed.” I blink at him stupidly for a minute. Will food fix this? Jumping up I jog to the cart and reach in for his tray. It’s heavier than the last one, still covered from view and I hurry it back to him. Supporting his back, I help him sit up enough to eat and step back. “You’ll want to look away,” he says, his hand resting on
the handle at the top of the dish cover.
“Okay,” I say and turn. I have no idea what’s on that plate, but if it makes him better, I don’t care. All I know is that he thinks it’ll freak me out and he’s probably right. The sounds I’m hearing behind me don’t help. Growling, crunching… gross chewing noises. It’s worse than hearing Gahna eat.
“You know, I don’t know your name,” I hint. The sounds are getting a bit disgusting I figure talking will cover some of it up.
“Tavin,” he answers around a mouthful of whatever he’s eating. Tavin? I figured since they’re twins the names would match a bit more. Maybe they’re not brothers? “We are brothers… of a sort.”
“Did you just read my fucking mind?” I demand, catching myself right as I’m about to turn around. Vale drinks blood, and if Tavin is his brother—of a sort, whatever that means—then I imagine he’s chewing something that’s like blood is for Vale. Something I don’t want to see.
Maybe those bodies on the hooks weren’t so far-fetched after all?
“No, it was the obvious question since you met him first.” At least he doesn’t sound like he’s talking around a mouthful of crunchy dicks anymore.
“Feeling better?” I ask, strained.
“You can turn now.” I do and almost turned right back around. His face is a bloody mess but not from injuries because there isn’t a mark on his face. It’s from whatever he was eating. Yep, don’t want to know what he was chomping on. I grab the tray and practically throw it into the open doors of the cart.
Bodies. Hooks. Me vomiting. Not something I want to do or think about right now.
“Do you feel like getting cleaned up?” I ask, instead of tossing my partially digested apples on the floor. Stepping back into the room armed with what I’ll need for him to bathe, I force my thoughts to move onto the next task. I can have nightmares about his lunch later. I no longer need the bathtub because I discovered earlier that they all have bathrooms, but they were denied them. I search out the door and unlock it.
