Head Case

by Kendra Moreno

  “Don’t listen to him, Crane. You’ll find your room is of the utmost comfort while you stay,” Yoon calls behind me as I follow Danny out the door.

  For some reason, her words don’t make me feel better. Maybe because a gilded cage is still a cage, even if there’s some sort of “freedom” with it. But I came to this place willingly, and I want to find out what’s wrong with me. I need to.

  There is nothing wrong with us. You are wasting our time.

  “Shut up,” I grumble. Danny gives me the look, the ‘You alright, guy?’ look, and I nod my head in reassurance. To his credit, he doesn’t look weirded out or worried. He must be used to this sort of thing.

  “The cafeteria is right through there,” Danny explains, pointing through a long row of windows into a busy room. “Three meals a day are served, and all residents are allowed to come here, so that means you’ll be with those in the same program as you, as well as those residents who are here on a permanent status.”

  “Good to know.”

  Danny leads me further along to another room. Everything stays in neutral colors, but this new room is the same shade of blue as Danny’s scrubs. A few TVs are set up on the walls, people crowded around them.

  “This is the common room. Some of your circles will be in this room, but it’s also a place to come to relax. A few of the residents play a mean game of poker. Be careful if you start betting. They will take you for all you’re worth, if you’re not.”

  My eyes scan over the crowd inside. Most of those inside are gathered around the TVs but two women catch my eye sitting alone at a table against the windows. The dark-haired one keeps her head down, her eyes meeting mine and then skittering away, as if it makes her nervous to look at me. But the other woman meets my gaze head on, and our eyes lock. She holds me there, as if I can’t look away, not that I’d want to. Something about her makes my fingers twitch faster.

  The voice rumbles inside my head.

  “Come on. I’ll introduce you to a few of our long-term residents.”

  Danny’s voice pulls me out of the trance the blonde put me in, and I shake my head. “Yeah, sure. That sounds good.”

  He leads me through a doorway, and I step inside the same room as the woman. I try my hardest to keep my eyes off her, attempting to not look like some sort of creeper, but it’s a losing battle. To both my annoyance and pleasure, Danny leads me to their table first, skipping all the other residents inside.

  “Crane, I’d like you to meet Kenzie and Mitzy. Ladies, this is Crane.”

  The dark-haired woman giggles and looks away. “Spies,” she whispers, and I’m not sure if she’s talking to me or the other woman.

  I look toward the blonde again to see a scowl on her face. “What the fuck are you looking at, asshole? You need a new set of eyes?” she snarls.

  I would have taken a step back. Hell, normally, I would have noped right out of there. She’s vicious, and I can tell she can probably chew me up and spit me back out. But I kind of want her to try, and I momentarily bristle in return before a sense of calm sweeps over me.

  She’s perfect, the voice purrs inside my head.

  “I’m happy with my peepers, thanks.” And then I do the stupidest thing I could ever do.

  I wink, click my tongue, and shoot her with a finger gun.

  What the actual fuck is wrong with me?

  Chapter 4

  Kenzie

  I blink at the new idiot, and then I blink again. It’s official, the prettier the guy, the dumber they are. Finger guns? Really?

  “Well,” Danny coughs, obviously holding back a laugh.

  I shoot him an irritated glare. I’m supposed to be on my best behavior, but this is too much of a test. How am I supposed to be nice to the new meat when he’s so . . . so . . .

  “You’re right. Not everyone is a spy,” Mitzy laughs. “Spies are smooth.”

  I bite my lip, trying not to laugh. I can’t help it, though. I bust out into a fit of laughter, elbowing Mitzy as I devolve into cackling like a loon.

  “Truth!” I look from my best friend to the new meat and shake my head. “Poor guy. It’s okay, Danny. I won’t kick his ass. He couldn’t handle it.”

  Danny rolls his eyes heavenward and mutters under his breath. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but after knowing him for as long as I have, I know he’s counting to ten. He once told me it was the only way he can deal with the crazies in here and not lose his patience.

  “I’m smooth,” Crane mutters unconvincingly.

  I swish my mouth to the side, nodding. “Yeah, sure you are, buddy.” I clap my hand over my mouth, determined not to laugh again.

  “Well, while you kids play, I’m going to go check on some things.” Danny narrows his eyes on me before turning to Crane. “I’ll be back soon to show you to your new room. If you need anything, any of the orderlies are able to help you.”

  Danny issues me one more severe look before he wanders off, leaving a very uncomfortable-looking Crane behind.

  “Well, fuck,” Crane whispers, glancing around the room as if he’s intimidated.

  “Don’t worry. Danny is going to get the rundown on you. Pretty soon he’ll know all your dirty little secrets, like if you’re a biter, a bed wetter, or dangerous.” I wiggle my eyebrows, ignoring Mitzy’s tug on my hand. “Are you dangerous, blue eyes?”

  “What? No.” Crane’s eyes dart to the side, and I know he’s lying. It’s one of the first things I can remember learning at Whisperwood. I’d lied to my group therapist, a feisty older woman named Sandra—I shudder at even the thought of her name—and she’d called me on it. People always look away when they’re lying. So, Crane is dangerous, huh, that makes things a little more interesting at least.

  Being the only troublemaker gets old, sometimes.

  “I want to watch the movie,” Mitzy whispers, tugging on my hand again.

  Abandoning my thoughts about the new guy, I look toward the media center and see an opening on one of the couches. “Come on,” I tug Mitzy with me toward the couch. Crane follows like a lost puppy who doesn’t know what to do. Something about that is very amusing to me.

  Two roomers are taking up most of the couch, but I squeeze into the spot on the end and then scooch toward the roomer on my right, making room for Mitzy. The roomer looks at me and tries to move farther over, but there’s no room left. Frustrated and obviously uncomfortable, he gets up with a huff.

  I slide down, getting comfy in the new space and Mitzy stretches her feet out onto the coffee table, staring up at the big TV. This movie is one of her favorites: Lord of the Rings. I hate it, personally. The books were better, but The Hobbit is pretty great.

  Pretty soon, I’m engrossed in the movie, despite my best efforts. It’s still Tolkien, after all. So, maybe I shouldn’t judge it so harshly. The sound of Mitzy biting her nails grates my ears and I smack her hand.

  “Stop that,” I hiss. “You know you’ll make them bleed, and they hate that.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she mutters.

  A weight to my right shifts, and I grin to myself, prepared to lay down on the couch and really stretch out now that we’d run the last roomer off. Before I can lay my head down, however, a new weight sinks down beside me.

  A quick look reveals Crane, the new meat. His steel-blue eyes are locked on me, and I hate to admit my breathing quickens for a second. Those eyes are so intense, even more so up close than they had been across the room.

  “You a stalker?” I lean my head to the side, my hair falling like a curtain between me and Mitzy.

  “What? No. I just–” Crane sighs, scratching his neck lightly. “Danny introduced me to you guys, and that’s it. I figured I’d hang out here until he comes back.”

  “Awe, you’re scared of the petting zoo residents. You’ll get used to it,” I assure him. “We don’t bite. Well, most of us don’t.”

  “Speaking of biting,” Mitzi giggles.

  The sound of footsteps on the tile floor draws my eye to Assh
ole Orderly. He quickly walks up to the TV and turns it off. Mitzy gasps, flying to her feet.

  I tug on her hand, pulling her back to the couch and pitch my voice loud enough to be heard over the rumble of voices which are growing since the TV has been shut off. “Hey, what are you doing? We were watching that.”

  “Movie night is officially over. Go play cards and eat Jell-O, you freak.”

  “Excuse the fuck out of–” My rage is interrupted by the sound of someone growling. At first, I think it’s Mitzy, and I slide my hand out in front of her stomach to keep her from attacking Asshole Orderly.

  “Don’t talk to her like that!” Crane snaps from beside me.

  I arch my brow, genuinely amused by his noble little display.

  “That goes for you, too, asshole.” Asshole Orderly points at Crane, and I swear I can see his lip curl back. This dude is feral.

  Crane’s eye twitches, and I look between him and Asshole Orderly–I refuse to remember his name–before I decide to intervene.

  “It’s whatever, come on Mitzy, let’s go play cards.” I tug on her hand and give Crane a pointed look. His eyes narrow on the orderly one more time before he turns to leave with us.

  As we come to a table with Willie, I notice Crane is less angry than he was. Mitzy takes the seat beside me, scooting in close. Her head twitches to the side a few times, and I know her nerves are shot. She loves that movie and interrupting her activities is probably the worst thing he could have done . . . but it’s not like he cares.

  Good orderlies are few and far between. Danny is great, and Derrick–I swallow my emotions as I gloss over the end of that thought. Most of the orderlies can be dickish, and some of them, over the years, had even been abusive. One in particular had gotten fired for hitting Mitzy a few years ago. She’d clawed at his neck during an episode, and he’d lost his patience and backhanded her.

  I look over my shoulder to find Asshole Orderly crossing the common room toward Danny. There’s no way he’s going to last long here if he’s cussing at patients on day one. My eyes fall on Danny who has his arms crossed over his chest, staring intently at our table.

  “Well, Danny looks pissed,” I whisper to Mitzy.

  “He probably found out something about the spy.” Her eyes slide to Crane who is struggling to get the right number of cards from Willie.

  “No, I need two more cards.” He grits his teeth and reaches for the draw pile.

  “No! You have to let me deal them,” Willie laughs and collects all the cards he’d dealt. He shuffles them catastrophically, I’m pretty sure one falls off the table, but whatever. It’s Rummy.

  “Maybe. Hey,” I snap my fingers in front of Willie’s face, losing my patience. “Five cards. Stop fucking around, or we won’t play with you.”

  Willie laughs again and begins dealing the cards for the second time, taking small breaks to scratch his neck.

  “No, I don’t,” Crane mutters.

  “Huh?” I meet his blue eyes, my eyebrows drawing down low. No one had asked him anything.

  “Uh, nothing.” His smile is nervous, and I wonder for a moment if he hears voices, like Mitzy. Not that I’m judging, I was sent here for worse reasons than most.

  I glance down at my hand, counting the cards as I arrange them in numerical order, separated by the set. Hearts all go together, spades—once my hand is organized how I like it, I count them with a groan. “Damnit, Willie.” Seven cards. I shake my head and ignore it. We’ll just play with seven cards.

  “So, why is Danny pissed?” Mitzy asks. She has this tendency to hone in on something until she gets the answer she wants.

  Crane shifts nervously in his seat and mutters something under his breath I can’t quite make out.

  “The fuck was that?” I snap. I’m not sure what he said, but my temper flares at the look on his face. He looks . . . pissed. He quickly schools his features back into something resembling calm, though, and tosses me a quick smile.

  “Probably because I’m fucking nuts. That’s my best guess, anyway, but what do I know?” Crane shrugs, leaning back in his chair as he examines his hand.

  Mitzy goes first, then me, then Crane. I’m finding it hard to concentrate on the game between Willie’s outbursts and Crane staring at me. What in the hell is he looking at?

  “We’re all nuts.” I wave my free hand around, gesturing to the common room. “Welcome to Whisperwood, the loony bin, the petting zoo, home of the roomers and fuckups.”

  Mitzy laughs and nods her head excitedly. “The roomers are the worst.”

  I shudder. They really are.

  “Why are you here?” Crane asks, laying down a set of threes.

  I run my tongue over my teeth, picking out a lie. Admitting to murder isn’t something I typically do. “I tried to kill myself.”

  Mitzy doesn’t even react. I’ve told her a million reasons why I’m here but never the real one. I’m pretty sure only the staff knows the real answer, and I’d love for it to stay that way.

  Crane tilts his head to the side, studying me intently for a moment. His entire demeanor feels different for a second, but then the intensity is gone as quickly as it came. Part of me knows he knows I’m lying. Interesting.

  I shrug, matching my cards into a run. I hate losing, always have, and as of right now, I’m behind. After a quick peek at Mitzy’s hand–she never pays attention–I feel better about my game plan to win.

  Chapter 5

  Crane

  I stare at the cards in my hand, studying at the purposeful disorganization of the worn paper pieces. You’d think they could afford new decks in this place considering the cost, but it seems like they don’t really care too much if the corners are ripped off or if you can even really read the card. I have six cards in my hand, too many for the game, but it seems like it’s common for the dealer, Willie, to do whatever the fuck he wants. I don’t really know what I was expecting, honestly. Logic is probably too much to ask.

  Kenzie is the complete opposite from me. Where I’d left the cards how they came in my hand, she meticulously organized hers, and I figure she’s arranged them based on some system. I can imagine structure is second nature when you wake up every day in a place like this.

  Chaos will bring out her beauty.

  I twitch at the voice in my head, finding the line odd. Kenzie’s eyes go right to me when my head jerks to the side, and they narrow in suspicion.

  “So, suicide, huh?” I cringe, and immediately want to rewind the last few seconds and take the words back. Jesus H. Christ, even my awkward ass knows not to talk about suicide like this. Unfortunately, I spend far too many hours with those after the fact and never before.

  Her friend, Mitzy, snorts and lays down three cards which don’t match at all, but no one questions it.

  Kenzie pushes the hair back from her face and puts down three three’s before picking up another card. When it’s my turn, I just grab another group of cards from the discard pile and add them to my own. I realize it’s the exact opposite of what you’re supposed to do, but for some reason, my instincts tell me to collect them rather than to give them away.

  Like we will collect heads.

  “Shut up,” I mumble, jerking my head to the side like I’ll shake out some little person from my inner ear.

  “The fuck you say?” Kenzie growls, her cards crinkling a bit beneath her fingers.

  “Nothing. Sorry.”

  “That’s what I thought. Word of advice, FG, watch what you say around here. Best case, you make an enemy. Worst case, you die.”

  “I’m only here temporarily,” I grumble, setting all my cards down. Without looking, I scrape a few more from the discard pile into my own even though it’s not my turn. Kenzie’s eyes follow the movement closely.

  “That’s what they all say. I’ve been here a long time, FG, and I hardly ever see anyone leave. You came here for a reason. We all did. Just try not to get yourself killed or thrown in isolation, and you’ll be alright.”

 
; “Could you stop calling me whatever the fuck that is? It’s Crane.”

  “Sure, it is.” Kenzie sets down another set of cards, only a few left between her fingers. Mitzy it seems, got bored of the game and is instead stacking them into a house. Kenzie lifts her hand and finger guns me just like I’d done to her, and her nickname for me slams into my brain so hard, I see red.

  “Fucking hell,” I snarl, and for a moment, my fist clenches beneath the table in anger. I don’t want to hit her, but fuck if I don’t want to hit something. The orderly standing against the wall tempts me, but I haven’t even been in this place for longer than a few hours. I’m pretty sure slugging the smug asshole won’t earn me any brownie points.

  “You don’t like your nickname, FG?” Kenzie winks at me.

  Mine, the voice in my head snarls, and a very real animalistic sound slips between my teeth. It’s uncharacteristic of me—I’ve never been quick to anger—but that doesn’t slow the rage building in my gut. I grab a fist full of cards and drag them to me.

  “UNO!” Willie shouts, and his voice cuts through the fury faster than anything else could. The red fades, my chest depresses, and I stare at the massive pile of cards in front of me. What the hell? Did I literally take all the cards from the table? “UNO!” Willie screams again, jumping up in excitement.

  “That’s not how you play Rummy,” I say, but my voice comes out like I’ve been eating hot sauce nonstop.

  “Willie, sit your ass down. You haven’t won anything,” Kenzie growls, her fingers clenching her cards hard. Oops, seems like she’s a sore loser then.

  “I win, I win, you lose,” Willie repeats, and I can’t really place the jig he does. He kind of jerks around like he’s possessed, his hands fluttering around like he’s trying to catch fireflies by smashing them between his palms.

  When no one is looking, I reach forward and take the three cards he set down—a two, a Jack, and a ten, all in different suits—and add them to my pile. I’m not really certain how anyone wins a game here because no one plays by the rules, except maybe Kenzie.