Head Case

by Kendra Moreno

  “Oooh, we get pudding today!” she squeals in delight.

  I shake my head, letting her lead me toward the cafeteria. Pudding doesn’t sound bad.

  I really hope Crane is alright.

  Chapter 15

  Crane

  My eyes feel like someone wiped glue across them. That’s the first thing I realize when I rise to the surface, that I can’t get my eyes to open. I claw internally at the darkness at the edges of my brain, forcing myself to wake up, to figure out what happened, to make sure Kenzie is okay. What the fuck even happened?

  Their sorcery overcame us. They’ll pay for that.

  “What?” I groan, raising my arm to my eyes and rubbing them. Turns out, my eyes aren’t so much glued shut as they are just super fucking heavy. I feel like I could still sleep for days.

  “Mr. Woodward. I’m glad to see you’re awake.”

  I crack my eyes open for a moment and slam them shut. The bright, white lights of the room send a sharp pain through my skull for a moment, but it passes quickly. I crack them open again and spy Dr. Yoon sitting across from me in a plastic chair. Her glasses perch on the end of her nose as she taps a pen against a clipboard gently. My head twitches.

  “What happened?” I ask, but my words are garbled. My tongue feels like it’s swollen, like it’s too big for my mouth. It feels like there’s a coating of fur across it, and I start to scrape at it with my fingers in an attempt to clear it away. Water, I need water. I glance around the room, my room, searching, but I don’t see a cup of water near me. “What happened?” I try again, the words not much clearer, but Yoon seems to understand.

  “You had an episode, Mr. Woodward. We had to sedate you before you harmed yourself or others.”

  “Did I—?” I trail off. “Did I hurt Kenzie?”

  Yoon raises her brow at me in surprise. “No. You didn’t harm her. But I’d like to talk about some things with you.”

  She thinks she knows what ails you. She is wrong.

  “Is this where you tell me I’m insane?” Slowly, I force myself to sit up and put myself on the same level as the doctor. Whatever she’s going to tell me, it probably won’t be good news. This might be where she tells me they can’t release me from Whisperwood. I chuckle humorlessly, as I rub my temple and stare into Yoon’s eyes.

  A sharp pain shoots through my skull, like H is throwing himself against the inside, and a flash of blood splatter covers my vision for a moment before disappearing. I tense, my head twitching at the brief sight, and I try my hardest to keep my eyes on Yoon and give nothing away.

  “No one in Whisperwood is crazy. Some are sick, some are unstable, but no one fits under the label ‘crazy’. I want you to know that, Mr. Woodward.”

  “You might not label it, but the world will.” As I talk, blood begins to drip down the wall behind Yoon’s head, slowly trickling down, down, down. I clench my jaw hard enough to pop it, grinding my teeth. The more I try to ignore it, the more blood begins to spill down the walls, spreading, until all four walls of my small room sport the red trails. My eyes leave Yoon to stare around me with wide eyes. What the fuck is happening right now?

  We are awakening.

  “What the fuck does that mean?” I ask out loud.

  Yoon frowns. “What are you referring to?”

  “Not you,” I answer far too quickly, and I realize my mistake the moment I make it. If she didn’t think I was crazy before, she will now. Now she knows I can speak to the voice in my head, that I don’t just hear it. That’s crazy 101. You’re not crazy until you hold a conversation with yourself.

  All Hallows’ Eve is approaching. The closer it gets, the stronger we will be.

  As if to make his point, blood begins to inch along the floors, heading right for me. I pull my feet up off the floor in panic, afraid I’ll get it on my shoes. I’m not sure whose blood it is and I don’t want to find out. There’s so much. Oh, my God, there’s so much blood.

  “Crane,” Yoon interrupts my panic, her use of my first name bringing my eyes to hers. “What are you seeing right now?”

  With wide eyes, I jerk as blood draws a line across her neck, but she doesn’t look away from my eyes. The blood coats her skin, clouds her glasses, and still, she doesn’t break eye contact. “You’re covered in blood, Doc,” I whisper, tense where I perch on the chair. The whole room is red, but the horror doesn’t stop there. As the blood level begins to rise like water, large objects bob to the surface. I gasp as one rolls toward me, cloudy eyes meeting mine, mouth open in a permanent scream. I choke on my tongue and jerk hard, the chair wobbling violently enough to cause my panic to slam to surface when I’m afraid I’ll tip backward into the gore. There are so many heads.

  My handiwork, I am afraid. It is not a pretty sight.

  “Crane, I need you to listen to me.” I glance up at Yoon’s words, confused that she doesn’t seem to see the blood that is now at her upper calves. This isn’t real, I remind myself.

  It was once very real.

  “Crane,” Yoon tries again. “I think you might be an undiagnosed schizophrenic.”

  Lies. We are not crazy. The quim does not know what she speaks of.

  “Then why am I seeing blood?” I ask H, but Yoon thinks I’m talking to her.

  “Waking visions are a symptom of schizophrenia. Many see different things, but there’s an overwhelming sense of paranoia, typically.” I tune the doctor out. She’s trying to help me, but I don’t think she actually can.

  This is a memory. Your seeing it means our strength is growing.

  “You killed all these people?” I choke. Yoon’s voice cuts off, and she studies me as I talk with someone she can’t see. Hell, I can’t even see him.

  Once. Every year on All Hallows’ Eve, my powers are required, and it is not something you can fight, Crane. I chose you because you have done bad things in your life, but that doesn’t mean you are a bad person. You do not have to be bad. I can be plenty of that for us both.

  “And Kenzie?” I clarify. “She and anyone she cares about will remain safe?”

  I give you my word. Kenzie is ours. She will stand at our side when we leave this place behind.

  “Crane?” Yoon interrupts, peering at me in question. “There are treatments for schizophrenia. There is no cure, but managing it is possible. I have a few medications I’d like to try, if you’re willing.”

  No drugs.

  “Will it help the visions?” I ask, jerking against the anger I sense coming from H.

  “It can. There have been good results with schizophrenics who have taken the medication. I suggest we try it, and we can build your treatment around that.”

  “I suppose this means I won’t be leaving at the end of the month.” It’s a stupid statement. Of course, she can’t let me walk out the door when I’m seeing visions of blood and heads falling off. Of course, she can’t allow me to join the masses when I’m having meltdowns in the cafeteria and screaming. Ironically, I didn’t want to leave Kenzie here. Now, I don’t have a choice about leaving.

  “It’s not permanent. Once we get your illness under control, you can leave. This is for your own protection and the protection of others.”

  We will not stay here.

  “And if I disagree?”

  “You signed a contract when you voluntarily checked yourself in, Mr. Woodward. You gave us the right to hold you should we deem you a danger to the public.”

  “Of course.”

  Yoon reaches into her bloody coat and pulls out a bottle of pills, prepared to drug me up.

  No drugs! H shouts inside my skull, and I wince as it rings in my ears.

  “I don’t really want to take them.”

  Yoon stares at me with hard eyes. “I’m not really giving you the option at the moment, Mr. Woodward. I need to see you take the pill, or you won’t be allowed to leave.”

  Slowly, I hold out my hand and wait for her to shake free a tiny pill into my palm. It’s odd to think that such a small pill can cure s
omeone with my supposed sickness.

  You are not sick. If you take that medicine, I will force it back up, H warns. I don’t doubt his threat, but Yoon is staring at me and waiting for me to take it.

  Quickly, I toss the pill to the back of my throat and swallow. H rages inside my brain, and I twitch against the insanity.

  “I need you to open your mouth and show me.” Yoon waits, her fingers twisting the pen between them. “It’s standard procedure.”

  I open my mouth and wait. The doctor nods her head at me and stands, still oblivious to the blood that kisses the bottom of the chair as I perch on top of it. It’s still rising. She smiles. “I hope we can come up with a treatment plan together, Mr. Woodward. We’re here to help, and to make it possible for you to lead a normal life.”

  “Thank you,” I grimace, waiting for her to leave the room before I let the cramping of my stomach muscles take it a step further. The blood disappears between one blink and the next, and I stumble to the bathroom where the entire contents of my stomach are retched into the toilet. A single little white pill goes down the drain, no help to be had from there.

  No drugs, Crane.

  “Got it,” I groan, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand before I curl myself into a ball. “And you can go fuck right off.”

  Now, now, Crane. There is no need for the vulgarity. We can save that for later, when we have Kenzie to ourselves and the blood of our enemies coats our skin.

  For the first time, the thought doesn’t repulse me, and I start to imagine Kenzie drenched in blood, an axe in her hand, and a smile on her face.

  Why is that the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever imagined?

  Chapter 16

  Kenzie

  I bury my head in my pillow, flicking off whoever is on the other side of my door. The morning wakeup calls are probably the worst part of living at Whisperwood. I’d love to get to sleep in without being disturbed just once. That isn’t going to happen, though, or I’ll miss breakfast.

  Grumbling, I roll out of bed and pull a fresh pair of sweatpants and a baggy hoodie on. It’s chilly in here this morning, I notice as I shove my feet into some socks. I make my way slowly down the hall toward the cafeteria and yawn into my hand as I pass a group of residents I recognize.

  “Your boyfriend okay?” one of them asks.

  I just nod and keep walking. I don’t remember the guy’s name, but I remember he was in the common room when Crane freaked out. Everyone in Whisperwood probably knows about what happened by now. I can only imagine what the doctors are going to put Crane through now.

  “They have hot chocolate this morning,” Mitzy croons as she comes up beside me in the cafeteria line. Someone behind us grumbles about ‘cutting,’ and my head whips around to face them.

  “Problem?” I snap.

  “Nah,” he mutters, his eyes falling to the floor.

  “That’s what I fucking thought,” I growl, turning back around. “Why do they have hot chocolate? That’s a treat. Did I miss something?”

  “There’s something wrong with the heat, one of the furnaces went down or something, so it’s chillier than normal. You didn’t notice?”

  “I thought it was just because it’s getting colder outside.” I shrug, stepping forward and glance around for Crane.

  “Well, yeah, it’s colder outside, but it’s colder in here because the furnace broke. So, the director told them to give us hot chocolate. I’m excited! We usually only get it for Christmas.” Mitzy’s eyes light up, and I can’t help but grin. She’s so excited about this hot chocolate, and I want to be excited with her, but I can’t stop looking for Crane. Every few seconds, I find myself searching the crowd for him.

  “He’s probably fine,” Mitzy mutters as we take our tray from Gina.

  “How do you know? The spies tell you? He was so fucked up yesterday,” I sigh.

  “Language!” Gina hisses, snatching her hand back from my tray. I look at her suspiciously, waiting to see what’s in her hand. She turns it over, palm up and reveals two big marshmallows.

  “Oooh!” Mitzy crows. I laugh and quickly swipe the marshmallows with a grin.

  “Thanks, Gina.”

  “You’re welcome, baby, now you two be good. And watch that mouth of yours, Kenzie!”

  Mitzy and I sip our hot chocolate, enjoying the luxury throughout our breakfast. She rambles on about spies and demons—the demons are a new development, at least—but I find myself searching for Crane.

  “And then a pink llama jumped over a spotted egg,” Mitzy drones on.

  “Wait, what?” I blink and physically shake my head to dislodge whatever was just said from my ears. “Come again?”

  “You aren’t paying attention.” Mitzy crosses her arms with a devious grin. “Don’t look now,” she hisses.

  My head turns just in time to catch Crane taking a plate of fruit before he marches across the cafeteria toward the hall. I begin to stand up, to go after him, but something tells me to let it be for now. My ass meets the hard chair, and I glance back to Mitzy again. She smiles sadly at me; I know she understands how I’m feeling. Separation anxiety. So, maybe I’m more than a little obsessive, after all.

  * * *

  All throughout the day, I find my thoughts drifting to Crane. It’s a physical need to see him, to touch him, to make sure he’s alright. I scan the common room again, for the millionth time and slouch back in the cushioned chair.

  “He’ll be at dinner,” Mitzy sighs. “The spies won’t let him miss dinner.”

  She’s right, of course. The orderlies will remind you to eat if you miss more than one meal a day, and Crane hadn’t been at lunch. I know, I’d been looking for him. I chew the end of my thumb, sliding another piece into the Connect Four contraption.

  “I win!” Mitzy declares.

  My eyes sweep over the rows of tokens. She hadn’t won anything, but I don’t have the heart—or the patience—to tell her that. I force a grin and pull the latch on the bottom, letting all the coin-like tokens slide free. “Good job, Mitz.”

  “Mhm!” she exclaims, pointing her nose in the air. I swallow my laugh, barely, when someone announces it’s dinner time.

  Sucking in a breath, I rise to my feet and move toward the cafeteria for the third time today. Maybe this time, he’ll show up. If not, I’m going to his room tonight. I have to know he’s okay. Whatever he’d seen had really shaken him, and I need to know that he was okay. H had never freaked him out before like this.

  * * *

  /-/-/-/

  * * *

  I slam my tray down onto the table with a growl. Several sets of eyes pop up to meet mine, and my lip curls back as I level each nosey motherfucker with a feral grin. “Problem?”

  A few heads shake no, Mitzy laughs, and Danny crosses his arms over his chest against the wall. I know better than to act out for ‘no reason,’ but Crane still isn’t here. I cross my legs under the table, sitting in the chair crisscross-applesauce, and push my carrots and peas around my tray.

  “Hey, Princess,” a familiar voice whispers behind me. I nearly fall out of my chair trying to turn around and greet him. My arms fly around his neck before I can think better of it, and Crane presses his lips quickly to mine before standing back. His eyes slide from mine to the people behind us, and he offers an apologetic smile.

  “Where have you been?” I snap.

  “I’ve really wanted to see you, I just—shut the fuck up—I can’t . . .” His head twitches mid-sentence, and I know he’s arguing with H again. Crane’s eyes fall to the ground and stay there, a small muscle jumping just under his eye.

  He’s still seeing things. I slip my hand into his, for support and wait for him to take a seat, but he looks longingly toward the hallway, his grip on his tray growing tighter, his knuckles turning white.

  Crane pulls on my hand, taking a step toward the hall, and I look over my shoulder at Danny. He nods, his lips tight. I swipe my tray up with my free hand, balancing it on my hip as I follow Cr
ane out of the cafeteria, my hand still in his. When we get into the hall, he quickly drops my hand, and I maneuver the tray into both hands; it’s sturdier that way. The group of orderlies we pass look us up and down but say nothing this time. Thank God for small miracles.

  Crane’s room is on this side of the manor, and it doesn’t take us long to get there. He steps inside, holding the door open for me, and I sidle past him, holding my tray while I wait for the door to close behind us.

  “Shut the fuck up,” he mutters, sticking a finger in his ear. I grin to myself, there’s no way that will actually shut the voice in his head up. Looking him over, I take in all the subtle changes that have already taken place since Crane’s descent into madness began. The circles under his eyes are deeper than ever before, darker than I remember. The facial hair growing in on his face—they don’t allow residents to have razors, for obvious reasons—looks disheveled and uncombed; that’s very unlike him, he always makes an effort to be meticulous in everything he does.

  A look around the room reveals the newfound messiness extends past his personal hygiene. Crane’s room is a wreck. The comforter is wadded up in a ball at the foot of the bed. The curtains are drawn, but wrinkled in a strange way, as if someone had balled their fists up in them as they stood at the window. I look to Crane again, narrowing my eyes.

  He sinks onto the bed with a sigh, gesturing around the ruined room. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

  “Very humble,” I snicker. “What have you and H been doing in here?”

  “Well, he keeps filling the room up with blood and body parts—mostly heads, of course—and I yell at him. It’s a lovely dance, honestly, I’m sorry you missed it.” Crane pulls a face and takes a bite of his sloppy joe.