Puppet

by Pauline C. Harris

  It’s the middle of the night – I’ve begun to discern patterns in passersby in the corridor and their behaviors linking with time – and the guards outside my door are barely alert, staring off into space, although I know they’d never be brave enough to enter my cell without some extraordinary reason. I glare at their backs as I smear the blood across my arm and my hands, digging my fingernails into my palms because the cut hurts surprisingly more than I had thought it would.

  I shout at the door, something weird and scream-like, pushing the blade into my pocket. One of the guards turns around and upon seeing the bloody mess I’ve made, his eyes widen as he cautiously opens the door. He steps inside and slowly walks closer while I stare up at him from my spot on the floor, cradling my arm against my chest as if its been mutilated.

  “What did you do?” he asks warily, looking around the room and then back at me. He glances at the shards jutting out of the wall, and at the metal bed. I don’t care how he thinks I did this, as long as it poses a problem. “I should get someone,” he says hurriedly, turning to leave, but before he can even take a step, I reach out and yank his ankle backwards. He falls to the floor, his gun rattling from his hands and I snatch it up. The guard shouts as the other one runs into the room and upon seeing me, points and fires. I roll out of the way just in time to hear the bullet whiz by and clunk against the table leg. Fear sprints across the man’s eyes and before he can think to fire the gun again, I’ve crossed the distance between us and crushed the barrel between my fingertips. The man backs away from me, as if expecting me to crush him as well, but I only shove past him and lock the door on both of them, racing down the cold, empty hallway.

  The gun is pressed firmly in my hands and only now do I realize that I should have asked Duquesne where Jed and James are being held. I race down the hallway, throwing open the first doorway I see. I remember the rooms with cells where Administrator Edelin brought me; they’re sprinkled throughout the corridor. I don’t see Jed or James in this one – I don’t see anyone – so I close the door and keep running.

  The floor and walls around me are concrete and gray; cold and somewhat damp. The cold seeps through my slipper-like shoes as I sprint down one hallway after another, searching desperately. It takes me four more doors but I finally throw one open, revealing a room with five cells, Jed and James in two of them.

  “Penelope!” Jed exclaims as I burst into the room and run for their cells. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m getting you out,” I answer, twisting the knob on his cell door until it snaps. Jed walks numbly out into the small corridor while I turn to James’s door. I don’t look at him as I fiddle with the lock, finally snapping it while his door swings open. James hurries out, eyeing the gun in my hands and then looking me in the eyes. I remember what Duquesne had said about James trying to save me, but all I can think about is the image of his gun at my chest. We stand for a moment, inches away from each other but unable to touch. I don’t know why, but I can still feel the fear of him, the worry, the hurt. And I know James can read it in my eyes.

  “You’re bleeding,” he says slowly, reaching out as if to touch my arm, but his hand hovers.

  I shake my head. “I did it...” Alarm flickers across James’s face but I ignore it. “You both should leave,” I tell them, using everything inside of me to force myself to turn away from James.

  “Not without you,” I hear him say from behind me.

  “They’ll only force me back,” I reply a little too harshly. “They control me,” I state, cringing as I realize how easily the words slide from my tongue; how true they are.

  Jed and James both hesitate and although I can read the guilt in their eyes about James’s confession, about everything they did, I don’t see the point in apologizing. I already know they’re sorry. And although I don’t feel as close to them anymore, I do forgive them.

  “Go,” I say again, harder this time, more demanding. Jed turns for the door, beckoning for James to come along but he doesn’t move. He stands there, staring into my eyes and I want to look away but I can’t.

  “I’m sorry, Pen,” he says and I can feel the hurt and guilt pouring off of him like waves. I want to step across the small gap that separates us and pull him into my arms but something still holds me back. The part that tells me he can never be mine, because I’m not even my own anymore.

  “Please go,” I say quietly, looking down at my hands. James doesn’t move. “Please.”

  But before he can open his mouth and protest with some other excuse, the door behind me opens and it’s too late. Too late for them to run, too late for me to run. Administrator Edelin walks in, looking slightly disheveled, like he basically jumped into his clothes in his rush to get here. But his expression is still smug and his eyes still glint with power.

  “Why, Miss Trump,” he says too cheerily. “What are you doing here?”

  I stiffen beside James, the gun feeling heavy and hot in my hands. Edelin seems to notice it the exact moment I realize using it might be a good idea.

  “You can drop that,” he tells me, his expression and voice hardening as he clicks his rectangular remote.

  My fingers unclasp and the gun thuds to the floor with a disturbingly loud clunk. Edelin stares at me, his smile and smugness gone, replaced by anger and irritation. I can see guards out in the hallway, the amount getting larger and larger and I realize the two I left in my cell must have set off some kind of alarm. I want to kick myself for my stupidity.

  Edelin watches me for a few moments, his gaze looking me up and down and lingering on my bloody arm. “Very funny,” he says, pointing to it, but there’s no humor in his voice. His eyes glance to my clothing and his brows furrow. “What’s in your pocket?”

  My hands move on their own, pulling out the metal shard I only now remember I have. I stare at it as it glistens in the dim light, still smeared with my blood.

  “So that’s what you used,” Edelin says indifferently. “Well...maybe I should have you punish yourself.” His eyes brighten at the possibility and dread clenches my stomach. Edelin seems overly pleased with his creativity and his smile stretches wider. “Teach you to behave.” My hand curves inward, towards me, the blade inches from my body. “Not too badly, of course,” he goes on nonchalantly, straightening his jacket. “You still need to kill Head Devere.” He says it as someone might check something off their grocery list. No guilt, no inclination of how enormous the task would be.

  My stomach lurches at the thought and I glare across the room at him, thinking of how easily he made me crush the man’s arm. How impossible it was for me to resist.

  “But first, you.”

  “No!” I hear James say and he steps in front of me, reaching for the blade clasped between my fingertips as if he has any power to stop it.

  Edelin’s eyebrows rise as he looks between me and James and slowly his expression morphs into a contemplative frown. He drums his fingertips against the metal box and watches us. “Actually...” he goes on, his eyes turning bright and gleaming with something that frightens me. “I have a better idea.” I want to close my eyes but I can’t make myself. I don’t want to hear his idea. I don’t. “Kill him.”

  My breath catches in my throat as his words slam me in the chest. “What?” I ask, my voice choked and strangled.

  “You heard me,” Edelin snaps. “Kill him. I’m guessing that will hurt more than a knife to your stomach.” He smiles; an eerily wide smile that twists across his face and distorts what should be something joyful into perverted cruelty. “After killing Devere you’ll be sentenced to death anyway.” His grin remains unwavering.

  I’m shaking my head, my hands trembling, the blade pressing into my fingertips as Edelin’s box instructs me to grip tighter. My heart rattles and adrenaline surges through my veins, my mind desperately trying to grapple back its control. Edelin watches me with hungry eyes as James takes a step away from me, looking back and forth between me and Edelin.

  “Don’t,�
� I spit through gritted teeth, glaring at Edelin across the room, panic tightening around my chest and taking control of my mind like Edelin controls my body. Adrenaline pumps through me but has nowhere to go; there’s nowhere for me to run; I can’t run.

  My hand clasps around the metal shard and my leg takes a step forward. “Stop!” I scream at Edelin. “I’ll do anything else, just stop!” My voice is fading to whimpering now, anger and fear competing for precedence.

  James is against the cell wall, watching as my legs carry me across the room toward him. Jed steps in front of him, his eyes darting from me to Edelin and I flinch as my arm reaches to push Jed out of the way. He stumbles back as my legs carry me closer to James.

  “Edelin!” I shout desperately. “Stop!” But he only watches as I get closer and closer.

  Jed lunges for Edelin with a shout, but there’s a guard who yanks him away.

  I’m inches from James now and I’m doing everything in my power to delay Edelin’s instructions. James looks down at me but for some reason, I don’t see fear in his eyes, only sorrow. He looks at me as if giving me permission, just as I told him to shoot me. I shake my head frantically, telling him to go, to at least fight, but he doesn’t move. He knows he can’t fight. He knows what Jed did to me; made me. I feel a tear slide down my face and I wish I was weak; I wish James could pluck the weapon from my hand and stop me. But he can’t. His eyes bore into mine, telling me more than words could say and he reaches out to brush his hand against my cheek.

  Images of him flash through my mind, us watching movies together, talking together, laughing together. How he pointed the gun at my chest and then let me go, Duquesne telling me about James’s plan to save me.

  I’m scared and hurt and angry all at the same time. Angry that James doesn’t move away, angry at Edelin, hurt because I’m breaking my own heart and scared because I know what I’m capable of and what I’ll do.

  I stare into James’s deep blue eyes, wishing I could lose myself in them. Lose myself, lose anything but James. But I can feel my arm beginning to move on its own, my control slipping away and my mind stopping. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, my words small and wavering as my hand moves forward, plunging toward James’s heart, although it feels as though I’m tearing through my own.

  30

  My voice cries out and my mind screams and I’m begging God for it to not be true. The metal sinks toward James’s chest and my mouth opens in a silent scream as I beg God to let James live. I feel the metal touch James’s skin, but only barely, before I yank away, gasping as my hand burns from the inside out. I bite back a scream as it envelops my arm and I take a wobbly step back. A guttural cry comes from my throat as I bend over, fire shooting through my legs. I see Edelin out of the corner of my eye, his furious face suddenly turning to fear as I look at him. He makes a startled sound and begins poking the buttons on his remote again. Pain shoots through my body as I stand my ground, almost enough to send me to the floor, but I grit my teeth together and clench my fists.

  Edelin shouts something unintelligible at me while every part of my body burns, and with a scream, I hurl the metal shard towards the wall, watching as it sinks into the plaster only inches from Edelin’s head. His eyes grow wide as I begin to walk toward him, the pain growing with every step. I grit my teeth together as I grab his collar and shove him against the wall. I grip his shirt and push him upwards, watching as he grasps at my hands and his eyes grow wide.

  “Turn it off,” I spit, every word sending a burst of fire throughout my body. Edelin only stares at me, the box gripped tightly between his fingers. “Turn it off!” I scream, gasping as the pain intensifies and I tighten my grip on Edelin. He sputters for air, fumbling with the remote and I feel the burning leave my body as fast as it came. My body relaxes with a sigh and Edelin drops to the floor, gasping. I grab the box from his hands, resisting the urge to crush it between my fingers; I don’t know what that will do to me. Instead, I shove it into my pocket.

  I’m gasping for air just as much as Edelin is and I’m just about to turn around and walk back to James, to say something, to throw my arms around him, before I see the metal shard in the wall and Edelin’s fingers inching toward it; too late. He stands, suddenly towering over me and I’m about to dart away, but I don’t have enough time.

  I feel the blade slice into the pit of my stomach between the span of two heartbeats. Pain races through me, although it’s a different kind of pain than I’ve ever endured; searing and frantic. I feel Edelin yank the metal violently out of my body and I jerk while gasping as I feel warm, sticky blood ooze over my skin, staining my white shirt a dark, crimson red. I can hear Jed’s gasp from behind me and James call my name, but my body isn’t functioning right, I’m not functioning right.

  Just then, I notice Head Devere by the doorway and I vaguely remembering her entering the room between the times Edelin stabbed me and pulled the blade out. I see three administrators beside her, staring down at us in horror. I wonder how much she saw. I wonder why she’s here. She was probably alerted of my escape, Edelin’s actions, by some administrators. Her expression is masked with shock and horror and she screams something unintelligible at Edelin. I can’t tell if she’s angry, or scared, or shocked.

  Blood is soaking my hands and I’m starting to feel dizzy. I can hear James beside me and then I feel his hands on my arms, my shoulders. I stare into his eyes, suddenly so grateful that he’s alive, even if my life was the cost.

  I can feel my energy fading, my senses dimming; James’s face is beginning to blur and I can no longer hear his words. I wonder what it’s like to die. I wonder where I’ll go. I hope somewhere beautiful. Somewhere with God. I hope whatever I did was good enough, I hope whatever I did is forgivable. My hand reaches up to grasp the cross around my neck, suddenly realizing it as the only thing that’s been through everything with me; the only thing that never left, never lied.

  My hands slip downward and I can feel James’s arms around me, catching me. And my strings – the ones that tie to me Edelin, to Jed, to James, to this world – are cut as I fall to the floor.

  31

  One. I don’t feel myself hitting the floor. I don’t feel James catch me, I don’t feel his arms around me like I did seconds before. I wonder where he went. I don’t know where I am, I don’t know where my body is. I don’t feel anything. It’s like I’m reaching but there’s nothing to reach for. Or with.

  Two. My vision is gone, the world is black. I can’t tell if my eyes are blinking, I can’t tell if they’re there or not. I look for myself in the smothering dark, an arm, a hand, but this is darker than black. The absence of color.

  Three. The stillness rings like the train horn in my ears, battering me and drowning me; suffocating me in a quiet so deafening I feel as if the world has crushed me. I hear nothing. I don’t hear my breathing, my beating heart, my thoughts. I never knew silence could be so earsplittingly loud.

  Four. Absence. Of light, of dark, of loud, of soft, of touch, of thought, of feeling.

  Five seconds. But time is nothing.

  Six. I feel myself move. Not my body. My soul.

  Seven. Come back.

  Eight. I feel pain and my heart starts beating again.

  32

  I feel my body contort and my chest heave as I gasp, the sound seeming too loud and raspy in my ears; like a severe scream blasted over and over again, the volume turned up. A blinding light sears my eyes and I can hear shouting, although the sound wavers in and out like it’s muffled; like I’m underwater. A dull pain throbs through my body and my hearts thrums furiously in my ears like it’s about to burst. I’m coughing and gripping the side of a table, my hands sticky and damp.

  “Pen!” I hear James exclaim and I see him leaning over me, his image slowly sharpening into focus. Alarm surges through me when I see his torso and arms are covered in blood, dark red and brown, but then I slowly realize that it must be mine. The sight of it stained and smeared across somebody else almost frig
htens me more than the starkness of it against my white apparel.

  As my eyes adjust to the light around me I see that I’m not in the cell room like I had suspected, but a hospital room; a real one. Nurses and doctors swarm the halls around me and someone I assume to be a doctor is standing over me, opposite James. I begin to sit up, but stop when my stomach sears with pain. I notice the sheets around me are stained and panic is beginning to form in my stomach, as well as a sense of nausea. I want to cling to something, anything, to get away from all this blood staining the eerily crisp white room. I feel as if I’ve stabbed the room along with me; everyone looks hurt and disheveled.

  “What...?” I begin to say but stop at the sound of how raspy my voice is.

  James doesn’t wait to respond, but leans over me, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and pulling me against his chest. His body is warm and his heart beats against me, almost faster than my own. I can feel him sigh with relief as he holds me tighter and although my stomach throbs, I cling to him, my arms on his back and my head against his chest.

  “Your heart stopped,” James says quietly.

  I pull away from him in shock, just far enough back to look into his face, to see if he’s joking, lying. “What?” My voice sounds breathless and scared.

  “You were dead,” Jed says from behind James and I can hear the tears in his voice. I survey the room around me, the blood, the medical instruments. I wonder how long I was unconscious.

  No more than seconds...

  I stare down at my stomach to see the bleeding has stopped and I wonder what they did, how they tried to save me.

  I’m shaking my head. “You can’t die and come back,” I say quickly. “I couldn’t have been dead.” My words frighten me and I can hear it in my voice.

  “Eight seconds,” James says quietly, almost a whisper. I can see the fear and shock and relief in his eyes and I wonder what he did in those eight seconds. Eight seconds of that terrible feeling that rips apart your insides and sucks your soul momentarily away because fear is the only thing that powers you. Because I don’t know what I would have done if it had been James lying dead on the table.