by Zoe Parker
The moron part is proven correct when Brett spots me.
With a malicious smile on his face, he beelines right towards me and gives me a rough shoulder bump. Side-stepping to keep my balance I put a few feet of distance between us and try to ignore him. Maybe he’ll go away if I say nothing? Isn’t that the right way to deal with a bully?
Although, it’s never worked as far as I know. Usually, it makes them hit you harder.
My worry is proven correct when something hard and pointy hits me on the left side of my face, immediately blinding me in my left eye. I teeter backward against the wall, sliding down it as I furiously rub my watering eye to try and make the stars marring my vision clear. That motherfucker hit me!
“What the fuck, Brett?” I demand, trying to look at him through the Niagara Falls blurring my eye.
“Can’t take a joke, little girl?” I’m going to punch him right in his big fucking mouth, that’s what’s going to happen. The minute I can stand without falling back over that is. The skin on my face is doing that hot, cold thing it does when you’re hit by someone’s damn elbow hard enough to know you’re nearly unconscious. I can feel my cheek and eye swelling, I can feel the hot blood on my lips, taste its coppery tang on my tongue. Just how hard did he freaking hit me?
In most places I’ve worked someone hitting you like that would immediately get them fired, probably arrested. At best you’d hope for some justice. Here? I don’t think that’s the case, at all. Brett’s done this before. I bet they all have. It would explain why there’s no one working this job.
Wait, didn’t Vale say he ate my predecessor? Do I believe that he did? Why don’t I feel like I’d meet the same fate? Honestly, my gut tells me Brett, and his ilk are more likely to hurt me than the other people…creatures, here. So why the hell am I still here? Why did I get up and come here knowing that this place is fucking whacked?
Money. Yes, that’s mostly it, but not the only reason.
“You have a strong, kind heart, don’t let them cut it out, Mel.” The girl I shared my sandwich with says from above me. Rubbing the heel of my hand in my eye, I clear it up enough to look at her. She looks better today, still wearing the cleaner nightgown I put on her yesterday.
A bit embarrassed about the entire thing I climb to my feet and only wobble a little once I’m standing. Leaning my hand against the wall, I glance at Brett who’s smirking and either ignoring the girl or not seeing her. When she turns her head to look at him, her hair whips around her shoulders like little pissed off snakes. It’s a bit awesome, I can’t deny it—her upper lip curls exposing some piranha looking teeth. I almost wish I had teeth like that; then I could bite the assholes face off.
Feeling a smile tickling the edge of my mouth, I swipe a hand over it to make it stay hidden. If I smile Brett might take that as an invitation to hit me again and I can’t have that. I’ll break his fucking face if he hits me again. Now I have to decide if I’m going to try and go to whatever management this place has and report him.
“It won’t do you any good. Find comfort in the fact that justice will find him before the day ends,” she says, walking towards the cafeteria. After a moment of indecision, I follow her. I want coffee anyhow and, Connie might feel enough pity for me now to give it to me.
“What’s your name?” I ask her. She pauses and looks over her shoulder at me surprised before continuing.
“Marigold.”
“That’s a pretty name. I can honestly say I’ve never met someone with it before.”
“Most people name their livestock Marigold, I hate my name.”
Well, then I don’t know what to say to that. I’m not a big fan of mine either. Speaking of mine, I open my mouth to tell her and realize that she’s already used it. My mouth snaps shut, and I focus on ignoring the walls that I can now see breathing again.
Yeah, this patch is super effective.
“You already know mine. I’m not a fan of it either.” See, I’m a nervous chatterer. I don’t give into it every single time but this girl—who is probably an ancient goddess from some island that sank in the ocean or got eaten by a volcano—makes me nervous. It’s not that I’m afraid, but it’s a close thing that skitters along my skin. I feel like I should be scared, if that makes sense? It’s incredibly similar to Vale and Tavin—minus the mind-fucked attraction thing I’ve got going for them.
“Your name is old and rare. Do you know the meaning of it?” Her question brings me out of my self-flagellation for being attracted to “patients,” or monsters or whatever they are.
“No. My Mom said that it was the only request that my Dad had concerning me.” The absolute truth, or at least what she told me.
“It means “dark flower,” in my culture. It’s a sacred name reserved for priestesses and guardians.” She stops directly in front of the cafeteria doors and turns to me. “Covering the eye won’t change anything. Eventually the other will open as wide, and there’ll be no more hiding. But,” she pats my arm in an awkward comforting way. I have a feeling that she doesn’t comfort anyone often. “I understand why you’re doing it. Growing up as a human has infected you with their humanness. But it’s not that taint that’s keeping you here now. It’s the magic pulling at you, the magic you were born with,” she taps her bottom lip with a finger before continuing, “You have good instincts, they’ll steer you in the right direction, listen to them instead of that false humanity.”
Okay, then.
“Thanks, I think?”
“Go get your energy soup, avoid the fake Fairy, he’ll be dealt with soon enough.” With a final pat, she walks by me slowly down the hallway towards the elevator.
What the hell just happened?
Almost like it’s pre-planned, the door swings open and Connie stands in the doorway her arms crossed, her eyes on the left side of my face and the horns I’ve seen before flickering in and out of existence. She looks angry.
“Coffee?” I ask stupidly.
Her frown melts into a smile, a grumpy but still a nice one. She grabs my arm and yanks me into the kitchen.
Yes! Coffee!
“You’re the only person I’ve ever seen hum while they eat,” Connie muses, sipping her tea while watching me eat the second bowl of oatmeal. With a shrug I smile up at her and keep eating, I can’t help it, this is the best oatmeal I’ve ever had. Apples and cinnamon and there’s even some brown sugar mixed in there. It’s like having a warm, yummy party in my mouth and I can’t help but hum in happiness. Food is one of the great loves of my life.
“Why are you wearing that ridiculous thing on your face?” she asks.
Scraping the last bit of oatmeal out of the bowl I let the spoon fall into it with a metallic clang and push it to the side. Sitting back in the chair with a full stomach and a hot cup of coffee in my hand I smile again.
“It keeps things normal,” I say in response.
“If you say so,” I swear she rolls her eyes. “As soon as you finish your coffee, the trays are ready for you, and there’s a snack in there for when you’re in between floors. A couple of sodas too.” Without another word she turns and goes back to the kitchen. Taking an experimental sip of my coffee, I find that it’s not scalding hot anymore and chug it. I don’t want to get behind today.
Grabbing the food cart, I start whistling as I push it out the door towards the first-floor rooms. Looking at the schedule posted on the side of the pushcart I see that Vale is first again. I can freely admit that I’m looking forward to seeing him and well, that makes me feel odd. A lot of things in this place make me feel that way.
Especially warnings from little, old girls who are ancient volcano virgin sacrifices or some shit. When I look at her, that’s exactly where my brain goes. Old, scary and she probably eats people too. Why else have piranha teeth? Of course, I’d rather none of them consume me. That would totally suck.
I genuinely don’t think they will. How fucked up is that?
I’ll freely admit, I do dumb shit sometimes. I
think it’s something everyone is guilty of, but I’m not an actual idiot—most of the time. Last night I had no choice but to admit that this shit I’m seeing is 100 percent real, especially after googling every symptom of every single mental illness where one hallucinates. Yeah, I’m a bit off but, I’m not schizophrenic. There’s something else going on here. There has to be. Other than the little dude Jacaby at the bus stop, I didn’t see one paranormal thing at home—besides Athena nodding and appearing more humanlike every time she looks at me. I swear if she turns into some Celtic chick with a chip on her shoulder I’m moving far, far away. I’ll become a beach bum and eat sushi or something.
Sushi being whatever I can pull out of the garbage can at the bazillion restaurants along the beach.
Yeah, I don’t have schizophrenia, but I’m not right in the head, not at all. I’m just not mentally ill enough to push this all off as symptoms. I wish that I could, oh, how I wish.
“Hit him again you idiot!” The yelled words yanked me right out of my reverie. I peek around the cart and see two of the guards standing outside of Vale’s room. They look like they’re rooting for their home team at the football game. Why would they be—oh, hell no.
Leaving the cart in the middle of the hallway, I run to them and push the bigger one out of the way. Inside Vale stands half-naked, covered in blood—like saturated in the shit—being circled by two of the winged—fake Fairies as Marigold calls them—like he’s some kind of trapped animal.
That’s not too far off the mark, is it?
“What are you doing?” I demand, pushing my way past the other two to stand in between them and Vale. “What kind of losers are you to pick on someone who can’t defend themselves?” I yell.
“He ate Brett!” The one closest to me yells pointing at Vale behind me, who chuckles close to my ear. When did he step so close? I look at him over my shoulder. He’s standing so close to me that he could kiss me if he wanted to, without moving.
“Get out, now. Or I swear I’ll open every door on the third floor.” I have no idea where I came up with the threat, but it works. With looks of abject hatred, they both turn and leave the room. I’m only partially surprised when the door slams shut and is locked.
“You like him so much stay in there and let him eat you.” The one in the too tight uniform says through the tray slot.
“Well, that’s fun.” I turn to him and ask, “Why did you eat Brett?” I head into the bathroom to get something to clean him up with. “I thought you did the whole blood drinking thing?” I ask as nonchalantly as I’m able. I freely admit that I pulled it off better than I expected. In fact, I kind of want to lock myself in the bathroom and have a bit of a good cry.
Now that I’ve accepted that it’s all real, I can take off this stupid patch. I yank it off, taking some long eyebrow hairs with it, and toss it in the garbage can. Wearing it was a bit dumb anyhow, denial never works. Everything eventually collapses in on your head, and you have no choice but to accept life for what it is.
Shit, usually it’s shit.
“Why did you hide the gift you were given?” It’s the first thing Vale asks me when I leave the bathroom, wet washcloth in hand. I keep my head down and focus on the mess he’s covered in. I’m pretty sure some of the blood is his, but the wounds are gone.
“I saw all kinds of shit, Vale.”
“You saw the truth,” his voice is soft, almost chiding. He isn’t happy I covered my eye.
“Maybe, but it was your truth, not mine.” Finally, I look up into his eyes and find myself caught there like a fat lady bug in a big spider’s web. Stuck hard-core with every movement more deeply entangling me.
“That’s not the case any longer.” Truth, more truth and nothing but the truth.
Subject change. “You really ate him?”
He leans down and smiles his no longer toothless smile, “Every worthless bit of him.”
“He—how?” I sputter out nervously but not the run-away kind. More in the lean forward and kiss him and hope there aren’t pieces of Brett stuck in his teeth. That image cools the moment, and I pull away. I toss the cloth at him and laugh a little when it slides down his chest to land on the floor with a wet plop.
“Where are those inhuman reflexes?”
That teasing smile touches his lips again, and I shiver. Man, that thing is deadly.
“You watched its progress, did you not?” He did it on purpose? What a sneaky move. Also, a funny one which my laughter proves. Shaking my head at the absurdity of this situation I pick up the mess of his room and dig the keys out of my pocket. The locks open from both sides so I’m not sure what tweedle-dick and tweedle-dumbass thought by locking me in here.
“You requested that I only eat bad guys, Mel.”
“I can’t deny that. I’m not sure that him smacking me in the head with his elbow was a good enough reason to eat him though.”
This time Vale snorts, “Your encounter with him wasn’t the only reason for his death, Mel.”
Well, now I feel like an idiot who put way too much worth on myself. What the hell was I thinking? Of course, there were other reasons. These guards torture the people in this place.
“Since you gave of yourself, I’m finally returning to my natural state. Feeding on him will hasten that along. Not as quickly as the ambrosia you gave me though.” I’m pretty sure that last part is him trying to mollify me—the gallant turd. Having nothing to say, since I seem to be full of dumbassery, I push open the door and get the cart.
Digging out Vale’s breakfast, I look both directions down the hallway before using the sharp edge of the small knife on the keychain and cut my finger. Compared to a full body of blood, this isn’t much but my instincts—the annoying things—are pushing me to do it. Hell, I didn’t fully realize what I was doing until I felt the sting of the blade.
Yeah. I drank the Kool-Aid. In fact, I gulped that shit down and am now bathing it. Heaven help me.
Vale meets me at the door, and there’s laughter dancing in his eyes. Eyes that hold mine steadily while he drinks the shake I hand him. This time he licks his lips to catch the last drops and then gives me the empty cup.
“Thank you for your gift. I grow stronger from it.” Then he winks at me, like full on flirty wink.
If my panties were capable of melting, they’d have puddled in my beat-up sneakers right then. Unable to stop myself I look down and then with a full-on blush look back up into his laughing face.
“I still think there’s a chance I’m in some catatonic state and imagining this entire thing because I watched too much TV as a kid.” Yesterday, I’d have meant it, but now it’s half-hearted at best. I’ve always been an odd duck. My Mom used to freak out when I talked about magic and monsters as a kid—like hard-core freak out.
Is this why? Does she know something about all this fuckery?
“You and I both know that no matter how shaky you are on your new legs you know that you’re still standing.” My blank look makes him smile. “You’re full of shit and know that this is all happening.” Okay, that’s more my language. And he’s right. I’m way too calm about all of this. It’s almost like I finally found the place I’m supposed to be.
We’ll let the irony about it being an asylum pass.
Chapter Thirteen
No one is free, even the birds are chained to the sky.
Bob Dylan
Two weeks later, I’m still extraordinarily calm about the entire mess, and still employed there—something that’s a shocker in itself. The Unsylum seems to get stranger every single day, but I genuinely enjoy the people there. Except for the guards, they’re never ending assholes, especially the old ones. Last week all those I’m familiar with vanished on the same day. At the beginning of my shift, while I was talking to Marigold—who wanders the Unsylum freely—about how to raise a talking duck, they were nervous and agitated. Even meaner than their typical douchebag standard on top of it. I’m pretty sure I was tripped like 30 times in two-hours, but by the
end of my shift, they were gone.
Whether they ended up in someone’s digestive tract, I don’t know. What I do know is that the peace and quiet from their absence was worth every single guilty feeling about it. Work was great for two whole days. People were out of their rooms walking around and enjoying themselves, maybe for the first time in years. As it always goes, good things always come to an end. Whoever manages this place decided that bringing in new Fake Fairies—that’s what the Unsylum folks call them—was a good idea. Their whole creation process is fascinating to me, but so far, I’ve not been given in-depth explanations about any of it.
That’s supposed to end today.
Since Vale and I talk throughout a good part of the day, every day, I’m glad he’s finally agreed to tell me whatever doom and gloom bullshit is going on here. I asked Tavin, but he isn’t really a talker, not like Vale is anyhow, and although I feel attraction for him—it’s different than what I feel for Vale—muted almost, but undeniably still there.
How fucking weird am I?
Weird enough that I still manage to feel guilty for every second of attraction I have for them but not enough to make me stop being around them. And no one, not even Marigold, will answer any questions I have about the twins, not even the twins themselves. I sense a massive secret there, and it annoys the crap out of me that no one will tell me anything. I mean, if it were a secret that had no impact on me at all, I’m snoopy enough to want to know but not so much so that it’d bother me not knowing. In this case, I think it is about me or has something to do with me, which means I need to know. All their stupid games aside, it’d be nice to have some honesty from them that didn’t come with some crappy, when you’re ready line.
