 
INSIDE

D.M. BEYER

SMASHWORDS EDITION

COPYRIGHT 2015

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There was nothing but blackness and I was in the blackness and it was in me. And I wasn't afraid. No, I didn't feel a thing—and it was heaven. Yes, I had reached heaven at last. But, then a light. A terrible, penetrating light that seemed to dig into me with clawed nails. I fought for the darkness, but these nails with a shrill voice that I did not recognize pulled me from it. Pulled me from heaven. "Can you hear me, Miss Meyer? It's time to wake up" I feel myself coming back into my body. Oh, God, the weight—this unbearable heaviness—like an anvil atop me. Who is this cruel entity that reigns over me? Why does it torture me so? I don't want to come back. I don't like it here. I never have. I want to stay in the blackness. But my love evades me; as it always has and I awake to that same old ache; wearing my same old face. The one I'd awoken to so many times before. Where are those clawed nails that only moments ago pulled me from my bliss? I should embrace those claws now—let them tear off this mask. "Wher—where am I?" The reply comes swift, robotic; no doubt she had rehearsed many times before. "You are in Spring Grove State Hospital, dear." An ice cold plunge stabs my gut. "What? I don't understand what you're saying" The middle aged nurse raises her voice, as though I were deaf. "State Hospital, dear. Admitted yesterday morning" "Why?" Her wrinkled mouth frowns ever so slightly; feigning compassion.

"You tried to kill yourself, hone" Full awareness slams into me all at once and within a split second I am here again. Wholly. "No. No, you've got me mixed up with someone else. I didn't do that. I would remember if I tried to do something like that" The nurse smiles, a smug smile that makes her leathery face appear just like a pug dog. I was the fat friend even now; used to make one feel better about themselves. At least I'm not as ugly as her. At least I'm not as sad and pathetic as her. Yes, yes. My life isn't so bad after all. "You probably don't remember because of all the pills you took. Doctors had to pump your stomach; you took so many. Don't you know you ain't supposed to mix alcohol and pain meds, honey?" I feel my head shaking back and forth; my body physically denying what this cliché' of a woman was oh-so-condescendingly telling me. "No, no, you're wrong. I didn't do that. I wouldn't do that. I know my limits" But even as I'm saying the words the memories are flooding back to me. Pouring into me just like the jugs of Vodka. I can still taste that bitter, cold medicine-like taste. Waves of nausea settle upon my head; the heavy water circulating down into my gut. "Oh, here, honey. Throw up in here" A plastic bucket is placed below me and my body heaves; my stomach muscles contracting; attempting to get rid of the poison that I had polluted it with. Oh, my poor body. I used to be so healthy. My mother breast fed me until I was well past two. Breast milk is the best for babies, you know. Why couldn't I have kept my vessel pure like breast milk? Why hadn't I kept it strong and vital? What had I done to myself? What had I been doing to myself? Oh, to be pure again; innocent. To be a baby again; nestled so safe and loved in my mother's arms.

At the thought of the woman who bore me; I feel the nausea return with renewed vigor. But my stomach is empty and the chalky aspirin-tasting green bile is all that is left. The nurse watches me from a few feet away; unaffected. She had seen this scene play out many times before. It was nothing new to her. I felt her thoughts; heard them as if they were my own. I cringe at her disgust with me. Damn her! I did not asked to be pulled back! Just as I did not ask to be put in this wretched and vile world. This world that had only shown me sorrow. I wasn't built for this place. I'm not strong enough to bear it. I just want to go..go..go. But, these robots in white and their minions in carnation pink scrubs—make me stay. Damn them. Damn them all. "I'm going to take you out to the Recreation Area in a bit; let you meet the other residents. How does that sound?" Residents? As though this were some sort of apartment complex. I didn't want to see any other people; any of these crazy lunatics. But, I don't reply. I don't say anything. I was tired of 'talking' to this woman. I knew she wasn't going to help me; not really. Like most people she did the bare minimum of her job requirements—bedside manner and simple kindness extra. And I did not have any money for extra so this was as good as it got. I suppose I should be grateful for the medical care. I mean, after all, they could have left me to die. But, isn't that I wanted to begin with? Should I hate them or revere them? Once again I did not know and there was nothing to provide any answers.

The rec room was a large circular area with a large bay window at the far back. Black, iron bars covered the window to prevent any of the 'residents' from escaping. The bars reminded me of some old Gothic castle—or the Bastille. Where was my guillotine? Sometimes I wanted to be both chopper and chopee. The disparity of emotion exhilarated and terrified me. But, such was life. And this was my life, you know. As soon as I walk in the room the raucous conversations immediately cease as though some unseen god had suddenly removed the needle from the record player. "Everyone, everyone, quiet down for a moment. This is Aida Meyer. She's going to be with us for a little while. I want you all to welcome her" I can feel the eyes upon me; swarms of African honey bees stinging me unmercifully. My skin burns; my flesh swells. I keep my head down, hoping they don't notice me too much. OH, to be a ghost! I envy those glorious spirits. So powerful, so unseen; unbound by this physical realm. The nurse leaves me with these strangers then...these school yard bullies with their menacing; mad-man countenances. I am eight again; starting a new school for the third time that year. The school year has already started and all the kids have already formed their cliques. I am no one. I am outside; forever.

But, I have stopped looking in. I will never look in again. One of the women get up from a fold-out table near one of the navy blue couches. She starts toward me and my body immediately stiffens. The closer she gets; the more frozen I become. My face burns, oh God, this crazy bitch has set me on fire! "What's your deal, Lucille?" Her voice is deep and gravelly like some wise-guy, but with a southern drawl that made the situation even more ambiguous to me. She is standing so close now I can smell the stale cigarette smoke permeating from between her yellowed fingers. I feel myself edging toward the egg-shell white wall. Why would they have a white wall in a place like this? Didn't they know that mad people flung their own shit on the walls? How stupid the interior designer of this place must be. How did they even get into such a position? Nepotism, no doubt. It was rampant around here. "Are ya deaf, girl?" I blink rapidly, realizing I had completely forgotten the woman was even standing there. Goddamnit, who were these dreadful women? Why did they insist on bothering me? "No, I'm not deaf. I just don't want to talk to you" An unfamiliar flood rushes over me; as though someone has dumped a bucket of warm water atop me. Honesty. The hilly-billy wise-guy recoils from me as though I had physically struck her; her face twisting into an angry scowl. "Well, fuck you, you uppity bitch!" The other residents gasp, just like in the movies and a tomb-like hush falls over the rec room. Something rises in me and this time it isn't vomit. "No. No, fuck you! Fuck you. Fuck all of you!"

I run like a wounded child toward the furthest corner of the room, burying my pathetic face in my pathetic hands. I can hear them laughing at me, sniggering and murmuring under their breath about me. Oh God, it was just like school again. Just like being at home again. I had to get out. I had to escape. But, they wouldn't bring me back again. I'd make it so they could never bring me back to this hell. I would die to escape death. Yes. I'd fix it and make it right. I'd finally make it right. "You look like you could use a cigarette" I glance up to see a short, robust woman around mid-fifties; with dark brown eyes and shoulder length thick black hair. Her voice is kind with a hint of Spanish accent. I feel no judgment from her. For the first time since I arrived at this place; I feel as though I can take a deep breath. "C'mon, let's go outside" She motions for me to follow her, but like always, I hesitate; ever fearful of breaking the rules. "It's okay. We're allowed to" Still, I cautiously look around, and sneak quickly behind her. Once we are safely outside; the woman pulls two cigarettes from a pack inside her pocket. Lighting both at the same time; she passes one to me. I take it, more than grateful. The two of us stand in comfortable silence; each puffing at our own pace; lost in thoughts that only we could know. "I'm Suzanne. But, everybody calls me Susie Q."

I nod, unaware that I was supposed to provide my name as well. But, unlike others, this woman does not prod. She does not ask my name. In fact, she does not ask me anything—and I like that. I like that very much. There is silence again and the cigarette. I smoke it to the butt; inhaling all that juicy cancer. Find something and do it 'til it kills you, you know. When the silence is broken this time it is neither of us who are to blame. Instead, the loud crashing and flurry of swears were coming from some other body entirely—that of a young man who by all appearances looked to be strapped inside a straight-jacket. This was modern day. Surely they didn't use straight-jackets anymore. What was I going to see next? People walking around with ice picks sticking out of their skulls? Burn marks seared into the temples of zombies? What was all that clattering and banging then if he had no use of his arms? He was using his head; beating his skull against the walls. My opinion of the wrong choice in paint proved to be true; as a large smear of crimson had created a pretty good sized stain on the walls. It was almost beautiful—like art work. It was the brightest, most beautiful red I had ever seen. I wondered if the kid knew how talented he was. Two gargantuan orderlies tackle him and try to pry him away, but the kid resists and pounds his head even harder. He yells and screams; his voice choked and hoarse. Three more massive orderlies come to the aide of the first two and I watch with involuntary wide-eyes as one of them produces a fat syringe and injects the clear liquid into the young man's thigh. He fights with all his might, resisting until the bitter end. But the powers-that-be win against the individual soul—as they always do and his body falls limp as a dead fish. And I feel nothing.

I had to share a room with someone. One of my many worst nightmares. This place was some sort of macabre dormitory. I never got to go to college. I dropped out of high school after attending over fifteen schools in my fifteen years of existence. I got my GED and applied to the local college. I got a lot of credits and managed to actually attend my classes for a while. But, like always, I faded into the back ground. Now, college seemed a distant memory; someone else's dream. Just the thought of it caused me to snarl with disgust. My roommate was a teenage girl; no older than around seventeen or so. I didn't know what she was here for, but if I had to guess based on appearances; I'd say bulimia as she was twig-thin, practically transparent. I hated her for this. Me with my wide hips and my quarter-back shoulders. My round, bulbous beer gut even though I didn't drink—beer anyway. The boobs that hung as tangerines inside a tube sock; purple-pink squiggly scars that served as a reminder to all the times I had been stretched beyond my means. I was out of my depth. I'd been out of my depth my whole life. But, this teenage girl. What did she know of despair? Her rich father told her she was getting too fat for him to fuck so she started making herself puke? Oh God. Where did these thoughts come from? Who was this devil in me?

"I'm Natalie" I nod and am satisfied to leave it at that. But, she is unlike the woman from before. Susie Q she had said her name was. Yes. I think I liked her. "What's your name?" That stab of dread. Questions, questions. Goddamn these insipid questions. "Why does it matter what my name is?" My response leaves the frail girl speechless and she exits the room then; granting me my silent wish. I didn't care about Natalie. And for all intents and purposes I didn't care about Susie Q, but Susie had the cigarettes. I'd always been a pretty persuasive person. I once got this kid from my aunt's neighborhood to rake her one acre lot for me—to earn money to go to the movies. He raked all day in the hot Florida sun until her yard was spotless. I didn't even do anything for him in return; I didn't even like him. It was amazing and I loved the power that I felt—watching him work—me doing nothing. It was brilliant! So what the hell was I in this place for? The last stop for all the unwashed crack-pots. I wasn't one of them. I'd made a mistake; took a little more than I meant to. I'd come near to blacking out plenty of times before. Hell, one summer I even made a game of it. See how much I could take and still stand. I believe the mix consisted of amphetamines, generic cold medicine, vodka, Hydrocodone 10s', Percocet, Vicodin and some weed. Yeaaaah. I did this one morning; having woken up around 3 AM. It was Halloween and after taking a shower, filling myself with the above; I head outside. The bitter chill stabs my face; creating a numbing effect on the top of my head from my wet hair. With my faithful dog by my side; I lay down on the dying, straw-like grass and gaze up at the black tarp. The moon was a fat, round silver dollar with splotches of dark grey that appeared to me as alien faces. Clouds of navy and twilight blue drape as wedding veils o'er top the night queen's glowing face. Oh, there is so much sky here; it stretched on forever in the country. Sometimes, when I stood outside; it looked as though if I climbed to the top of one of the giant Oaks; I'd be able to crawl right into it. Fade away as one of the clouds. I don't think I ever completely blacked out that summer. Quite a disappointment indeed.

After I'm done settling into the little cell—err—room, which was basically like a typical hospital room; one bed on either side, small table in the center, a lamp shade and small writing desk. I make my way down the narrow, windowless corridor toward the concrete patio where Susie and I had smoked earlier. I already wanted another cig and I was hoping she would let me bum one. I knew I'd have to do something to return the favor until I could get some bread to buy my own. As I turn the corner, I see Natalie being pulled by the hand by one of the orderlies who had subdued the young man earlier. She giggles, letting him fondle her breasts as he leads her into one of the janitor's closets. Lecherous old men; the lot of them. I despised them. But, this wasn't my problem. I had bigger fish to fry. I spot Susie standing in a group of three other women. One of them is the skulking creature that had attacked me earlier. I sneer at her as I approach; letting her know that I wasn't going to take any of her shit. She returns the hateful glare, but keeps her mouth shut. The two other women; one of them a morbidly obese black woman and a tiny, petite Asian woman; greet me much more pleasantly. The contrast between the two women was almost like something out of a comedy sketch, but I'd never laugh. These physical bodies of ours are nothing more than shells anyway, you know. Despite everything—I do still believe in that. Susie Q turns to me, offering a fresh cig. "I would introduce you, but I don't know your name" I realize then that I hadn't told her my handle. I had a habit of doing that. I just always assumed my name wasn't important enough to give. People would just forget it anyways. "Aida" "Aida, this is Fredricka and Marnie. And that mean bitch over there is Bes"

The two women smile cautiously in unison. Both were wearing dark grey sweat suits and white tennis shoes. They even stood the same way. Was it possible they could be twins? Stranger things had happened. Bes keeps her distance for the moment; edging away from the group. I knew she was feeling me out—sizing me up, but I wasn't worried about her. I wasn't worried about anything right now. It must be the dope they had pumped into me before abandoning me in the booby hatch's version of gen pop. I do wish I knew what kind of dope it was, though, so I could have it all the time. The women had been talking about something when I approached, but had stopped to introduce themselves. Instead of maintaining an awkward silence until I either left or started talking about my own topic—the group continue with their original conversation; not ignoring my presence, but simply...accepting it without even a blink of the eye. I had never known this before. Immediate acceptance; without first having to conform. I listen in and out; drifting from my own thoughts to snippets of their conversation while enjoying my cigarette. I am content for the moment—and for me that is extraordinary. I turn my attention heaven-ward to the grey slate above us. It is as a giant tomb; etchings of names and dates having been washed away over the many centuries.

"I guess they let Jimmy out this morning" My attention is pulled from its usual macabre stomping-ground and I follow the gaze of the three women surrounding me. Two orderlies were bringing back the young man; his eyes glazed—almost marble like—as though some mad taxidermist had already stuffed him. Fredericka tsks tsks, sadly shaking her head. "They always messin' with that boy" Marine and Susie nod in unison. They obliviously felt pity for the kid; he couldn't be that bad. But, I didn't trust him—and I didn't feel sorry for him either. Who bashes their skull into a concrete wall? C'mon, only a crazy person does some shit like that. He deserved to be in here. Hell, he was probably an axe-murderer anyway. Probably chopped up his whole family Lizzie Borden style; maybe killed some little kids or something real fucked up like that. Either way; he was a psychopath—a total Dahmer. Even so, I was curious so I decide to speak up for the first time since I arrived.

"What'd he do? The women turn to look at me and I can tell by their lowered eyes that this is the sort of question that is not to be asked around this place. I had to learn the rules; one of the many things I hated about society. But, the women are forgiving and do not hold it against me. "We don't really know what he did. He's been here for a while though; before I got here and I've been here almost two years" I wanted to ask Susie what she had done to wind up here, but I don't. Instead, I simply nod, glancing over at the young man. He was seated on one of the blue couches; staring blankly at the television screen in front of him. Living Dead. Maybe that is what he was watching; it certainly seemed appropriate. "What're ya'll talkin' 'bout?" Natalie makes her way toward us, smacking a wad of bubble gum. I ignore her, but, just like she had done with me—Susie includes her immediately. "The kid" She points with the end of her burning cig. "Oh, you mean Jimmy? What you talkin' 'bout him for?" "We weren't really. Just occurred to me that I didn't even know his name though" Susie passes her cig to Natalie who takes it without question. In between a series of quipped puffs she continues: "The only thing I really know about him is he supposedly has a big, fat cock" Susie chuckles, shaking her head. "Why would that be the only thing you know about him?" Natalie turns to her, blinking with surprise. "Why wouldn't that be the only thing I know about him? I mean, okay, it's not like I know from experience—this is just what I heard. It's always the psychos who have the best dicks though, so I wouldn't be surprised" I couldn't help butting in here. "So, you're tellin' me that Hitler had a great cock?"

Natalie shrugs her slender shoulders, concealing the joint she was rolling beneath her scrub-like blouse. "Why not?" Flabbergasted; I continue when most would have let the conversation go a long time ago. "Okay, what about Manson? Dahmer? Albert Fish? That one Applewhite dude?" "Sure, all great dicks. I'd suck 'em dry" "What?!" But, before it can go any further a shrill whistle pierces the air; the light-hearted atmosphere shattering in its wake. I turn to see a woman of about sixty; her sandy blonde hair pulled into a tight bun behind her head. She wears a long black dress, akin to a funeral gown, but to me it is death's robe. I cannot see her feet so I can only assume she glides on air toward us. The closer she gets the more my skin burns. Surely she was death to have this effect on me. "Shit, shit, shit, put that shit away Nat!" Susie whispers through gritted teeth, but thankfully the young woman was way ahead of her and had already hidden the weed...in an undisclosed location. I did hope that it was a strong bag and the bud would be in...smokable condition whenever—or if ever-- it was made available to me again.

"Ladies, ladies, why are we standing around when there is so much cleaning to be done? Have all your chores been checked off? I did not see the red checks. I told you to always use the red marker to do the checks. Why aren't you using the red marker? You need to use the red marker" She turns to me, as though seeing another human being for the first time. "Oh, hello, you must be Anna, the newbie" I sigh, exasperated. People had mispronounced my name or just called me a whole different name-- as was the present situation--my entire life; I should be used to it by now. But, I wasn't. Every time some idiot said it wrong I wanted to grab them by the collar and scream in their faces: It's Aida, goddamn you! A—DUH! "Aida" "What?" "Nothing" "Well, my name is Agatha Marshall and I am the nurse on duty for the evening. You will find that we are very laid-back here. You will do quite well; as long as you follow the rules" I scoff, although I'm not aware I have done so. "Rules?" The woman's steel blue eyes narrow to spears. "Yes, Miss Meyer, rules. Just like in life—there are rules here that you must follow. Perhaps that is why you are with us now, because you chose not to follow the rules. If we all just wallowed in our misery and self-indulgences how would anything of value ever be attained? This generation...tsk, tsk, tsk" I start to speak up, but Susie grabs my shirt sleeve and pulls on it hard. "We'll help her learn her way around, Ms. Marshall"

The old woman nods, looking us up and down in that askance way. Then she turns to head back inside. I watch her as she makes her way over to Jimmy. She bends down eye-level with him and I can see her tight lips moving, but cannot make out what is being said. Whatever it was; it had absolutely no effect. He just sat there like a carrot, a million miles away. I envied him. Maybe I'd beat my head against the wall a few dozen times so I could join in on the Thorazine Shuffle. No more pain, baby. No more pain. After our smoke break we are herded back to our rooms like cattle. I might as well be a heifer, fat as I was. I pass the kid as I go, trying to see if he had come back to this world at all. He seemed more alert, but his big eyes still appeared glossy and blank. Why did I care? I knew deep down why I did, but I didn't presently feel like admitting to it so I decide the best course of action is to completely forget about it altogether. And my distraction just walked through the door. "C'mon, hurry up, group's in ten minutes" Group? I didn't care about group. Just the thought of it made me want to curl up into the fetal position. Sharing your feelings, burning desires. I knew about group. I had been to several before. Get your feelings out, they say. Whatever is on your chest—let it go, they say. We're here to support you, they say. Bullshit. Tell us your deepest, darkest secrets so we can use them against you. Never. I'd never tell anyone anything ever again. So when I don't jump to attention; Natalie starts to grab my hand and pull me up, but I angrily jerk it back.

Her pencil-thin eyebrows stitch together. "Don't you wanna smoke up before?" And that was the clincher. I get up slowly as though I do not really care and follow the girl out into the hallway, but instead of taking a left to go outside; we take a right, back toward the janitor's closet I had seen her disappear into earlier. Was she going to take me in there now? Instead, we pass the closet and dip through a heavy door with a little rectangular window. The stairs lead to what I can only assume is a basement or storage type area so I figured I was probably about to get murdered. Why had I followed this chick? Was pot really worth all this? Yes. Yes it was. "We can toke it up here. Wally leaves it open for me a few times a day and we all come down here. The smoke doesn't carry so it's cool" Wow. What a thoughtful Nazi. I'd have to send him a thank you card when I got outta this place. Seemingly out of nowhere a little white stick is passed to me and I take it, more than grateful. The strain is smooth so as not to induce a coughing fit, but potent and I can feel the effects within seconds. It is as though some kind, loving grandmother had draped a warm, fluffy quilt o'er top my head. It felt good. Damn good. Before I can fully relax, however, the door is swung open and I literally freeze, holding the smoke inside my mouth. I know I probably looked like a monkey, but damnit, to exhale without first holding it in was a waste. I would not get the full effect. And we had to get the full effect, you know.

"Hey, ya buncha heifers, what's the big idea?" Susie Q appears followed by Fredericka and Marnie. After taking one more puff I pass the joint to Susie who takes a long pull before passing it on to Fred and Marine. I still couldn't see why we were all in a state hospital. We weren't crazy. We weren't homicidal or suicidal. Hell, if anything, we just liked to get high. Since when did that make you a lunatic? There is silence among us for what I know is only a matter of minutes, but because of the THC—times seems to slow. Now, I wanted a cigarette. How to get back outside..."Who is leadin' group tonight?" Susie asks, stifling a cough. Natalie searches her mind, attempting to remember. "Think it's Dr. Meadows" "Ooooh" All the women say teasingly. I take it Natalie had a crush on this Meadows Doc. That didn't surprise me. She probably had a crush on anything with a dick and a pulse. "Speaking of which, we gotta go ladies. Don't want Nurse Gagatha catchin' us down here. You know what will happen" The women groan in unison, but trudge submissively up the stairs. I follow along behind them; icy cold dread lining my gut just like salt around a Margarita glass. The fluorescent lights of the hallway blind me; stinging my skin. I feel dry. I feel stretched across the heel of the bread. I hoped this buzz would last a while—at least until the end of this damn group meeting. I hated these sorts of things. Just like in school when we had to choose partners. I always hated that. I much prefer to work alone. I'm better by myself—always have been. I'd use this place; use it to rest, build up my strength. Then I'd get out and go on with my life. Maybe I'd go back to school—finally get some kind of degree. Denial...Oh, God what sweet bliss!

The area we met for group was a small area of the rec room, with a partition separating the two. There were a cluster of blue, plastic chairs—the same ones used in school all situated in a half-assed circle. The dread in my gut had took on avalanche strength; bringing with it, imminent death. I didn't need to be here. I couldn't be here right now. Natalie turns to me and I can see her lips moving, but for the sake of me, I cannot hear a word she is saying. All I can hear is this high pitched ringing that is going to slice right through my ear drums. I close my eyes and take several deep breaths. Sometimes this worked. I feel hands on my shoulders; gripping them firmly. I slowly open my eyes to see a man staring at me, his face stitched with concern. I love him immediately for that. "Miss Meyer? Aida? Can you hear me? My name is Doctor Meadows" My hearing slowly returns and I realize that he is the first person to pronounce my name right in so long I could not remember. His voice is soft, soothing; if harp strings could talk. Once I am fully aware again; the embarrassment replaces the panic. I can feel the eyes of the other group members upon me as well as the nurses and orderlies. My flesh burns scarlet beneath their curious stares and I lower my eyes, hoping that if I could make myself unable to see them, perhaps they would not see me either.

The kind doctor gently leads me toward one of the chairs. I let him do it, enjoying the feel of his palm against my own. Despite his indoor profession; his hands are rough and calloused. I imagine him as a carpenter, like Jesus, building tables he would never be good enough to sit at—or so he thought. Once everyone is seated there is silence and I can tell the good doc is waiting for one of us to start. I am a church-mouse. I am a bird shit stained tomb stone in some long forgotten cemetery. "Dr. Meadows, how come you wasn't here last week" "I told you, Fredericka. My mother is very ill. I had to fly out" "What's Ireland like, Doc? Did you see any Leprechauns?" I start to chuckle, but when I see that Marnie is serious, I quickly reign it back in. The doctor is unperturbed; he does not even bat an eye at her childlike inquiry and answers with a grin. "No, Marlena, I was not able to see any this go 'round. I will go back next spring for my brother's wedding and try to find one for you" "Your brother's gettin' married, Doc?" "Aye" "Ya'll gonna get drunk and fight?" "Aye" "How come you ain't married, doc?" I expect him to turn stoic, clear his throat or shift uncomfortably, but he doesn't. He answers without skipping a beat. "I am married; to you all" "You will marry me, doc? When I get out of here?" "Oh, Marlena, you are too fine for me. I cannot compete. Another would steal you away; a stronger man, a richer man than I" "How about you, Aida, how are you adjusting?" "Fine"

I can see him nodding from my lowered eyes. I knew I was transparent, but I couldn't help it. I'd always worn my heart on my sleeve. But, the funny thing was that by all appearances there was nothing particularly appealing about him. He was too skinny—gawky almost with a big, hawkish nose and greenish-brown eyes that seemed too close together. The doctor had the face of a farmer or a factory man; tough, haggard, weary from years and years of back breaking labor. Yet he was clean shaven with jet black hair slicked back from his forehead and dressed in a brown vest suit---none of which suited my fancy. "What about you Susanna? How did it go with the visit with your children?" Susie scoffs, her round face twisting into a hateful grimace. "Bastard didn't let 'em come" A murmur of voices, but Dr. Meadows shushes them sternly. "Why not?" Susie shrugs, slinking down in her chair. I could tell she didn't want to talk about this any more than I wanted to talk about my own shit. Whose idea had it been anyway? Get a bunch of women together to talk and share their most intimate feelings. Bullshit. I just wanted out of here. I just wanted another cigarette. "No, not a shrug. Tell me" "His bitch of a mother! Ricky's locked up, another DUI so Rita is taking care of the kids. She says that the church members told her that it was best the children not come here. It would 'traumatize' them'" The women all lower their eyes, respectfully sharing in their fellow crazies sorrow. I sit, amazed, at their unified show of loyalty. Who would've thought? The good doctor sighs, sadly shaking his head.

"I will talk to Rita. Try to...talk some sense into her" "She won't listen" Susie mutters, her chocolate eyes faraway. A stab of something. Oh God, what was it? No. No, not...sympathy. I did not want to feel. I did not want to form any attachments. I do not care. I do not care! "She will" Susie adamantly shakes her head, her broad shoulders slumping. I hated to see her like this; especially considering how genuine and kind she seemed. It was as though a different person had stepped into her body—some spirit who in so doing had completely decimated her former care-free self. I knew what was happening to her. It also happened to me. But, to see it on another face—to see it playing out—was really quite different. Quite different indeed. "I want you to listen to me carefully, Susanna. Do not, under any circumstances let this set you back. You have progressed so much since you first arrived here. You have been completely sober—minus the cigarettes and occasional weed smoking—for almost two years now. Worst case scenario; Rita doesn't bring them. But"—he raises his big hands defensively in the air to temporarily hold off Susie's argument—"Even if she doesn't it's fine because once you are released from Spring Grove I will send over my reports to Judge Roberts as well as your P.O. They will see all your progress here and...don't quote me on this, but I think full custody is definitely back on the table; especially considering Jess and Robbie aren't even living with him"

Susie makes no reply, but I can see that she is thoughtfully considering his words. The furrow of despair had left her brow and a look of mild hopefulness had replaced it. This doctor knew Susie Q's entire family by name. He remembered them; made it a point to remember them. He cared. No. No, none of them cared. They were flat. Robots in white, unfeeling; words just as rehearsed as their thoughts and movements. But he did seem...sincere. Fool! Idiot! Slut! If he was a total douche would you be romanticizing him right now? I don't know. Depends on how horny I was at the time. I internally laugh at my own joke, but the sudden flurry of eyes upon me alert me that the chuckle had not been inside at all. "You think little kids gettin' mo-lested is funny, white bread? What the hell wrong witchoo? Sittin' there, all zoned out, then you jus start laughin' outta nowhere. And they say we crazy, shoot, ya'll must got me fucked up"

My skin burns again and little insects begin to hatch out of it. The roaches crawl across my skin, their bristly leg hairs tickling my flesh. I didn't even realize anyone had been speaking. I had been lost in my own thoughts—again. I start to apologize, but I realize that right now nothing I said would really matter. I decide to keep quiet. I wouldn't make a peep. I look at Fredericka and make the motion as if to zip my lips closed. I then flick away the key. She stares at me, cocking her head like a confused puppy. Then I lower my eyes, humiliated, and try my best to completely disappear. When I finally do have the courage to look up; I see the kid who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. He was standing in the door-way at the very back of the room; staring at me with the strangest little smile on his face.

"Help me, God, help me" The pain in his gut is like nothing he has ever experienced. It comes hard and fast like a punch but with a sharp, sting that seemed to slice him right in half. His knees buckle beneath him and he falls to his knees, holding his hands over his stomach. It felt strange and he looks down to see what he can only assume are his bowels. The realization sends him reeling backwards on to the pavement. The stars look on as indifferent spectators above him. But, then something steps in front of the black tarp. It's the kid; leering over him, his innocent face twisted into a maniacal grin. Then Josh notices the axe in his hands. He holds it like a baseball bat; taking practice swings just over top of him. The swish of the blade offers a cool breeze against his burning face and Josh uses what little strength he had left to try and get away. Holding his belly; Jimmy laughs, throwing his head back. Every part of him tingled. The Source of the Universe surged within his veins. He was a vessel of God—a Seraphim—forged out of fire--sent to do God's work. He was Samael—dispenser of the Lord's poison. And he would make this mother fucker drink.

"Do you know why God cast Lucifer out of heaven?" "Wha—what?" "A lot of people think it's because he had pride in his heart—that he wanted to be God. That might be true, but here's another thought. God ordered Lucifer to bow down and worship man, but Lucifer refused saying that man was nothing but dirt and he—he was forged in fire" The kid leans down on his haunches, tenderly brushing a lock of brown hair from the man's perspiring forehead. He jerks away, recoiling from the kid's touch. "Lucifer was very sad, horribly lonely and very, very angry. But, then he met Lilith—the first wife of Adam who God had also banished from the Garden. They understood each other because they both had been forsaken—both orphaned and replaced as though they had never existed at all" "Oh, God, please help me! Some—somebody help" "No one is coming to help you" The man manages to catch one final glimpse of the stars before the axe comes down, crushing his skull in two. Bits of grey matter and skull fragments shoot up into the air, splashing across Jimmy's face. He giggles, wiping some off and licking it. Salty, yet sweet. He continues pounding the man's head until there is nothing left but a bloody pulp. By tomorrow it would look no different than any other road kill. Jimmy imagined himself as a valiant wood-cutter; chopping into the wolf's belly to rescue the old grandmother. He knew Aida loved fairy tales. That is why he had specifically chosen the axe.

As a sign—a sure sign and then she would know without a doubt that the two of them belonged together. The sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon; bathing the countryside in its golden light. This served as confirmation that God was well pleased with his work. His reward would be Aida's love in return. Jimmy had never looked forward to something so much; had never felt so alive. He only wished Aida herself could have been here to see the whole thing. And then afterward; they could have made love beneath the silver stars. He tucks the axe back inside his hoodie and walks slowly down the highway; back toward the hospital. Back to Aida.

"And how often do you have that dream, Jim?" His eyes faraway; the kid replies, "More like a fantasy than a dream really" Dr. Meadows nods, his brows drawn thoughtfully. "How's the head?" The doc bends down, examining the young man. He sharply inhales, wincing sympathetically. "What were you thinkin', Jim? " A shy smile plays beneath the kid's lowered eyes and he answers; his voice hardly a whisper. "Just wanted them to stop" The Doctor's playful expression is replaced by one of intense concern. "The fantasies?" "I used to like them, but I don't anymore and I want them to go away" Dr. Meadows sits back in his chair, the same chair he had sat in during group. He hated the chair; his ass ached for weeks every time he sat down. But for some reason, he never thought to procure a different one. "I understand you had to be restrained and given a Haldol injection. This happened while I was away. My mother is ill and had it not been for that I would have been here; you know that. I'm sorry, Jimmy, it will not happen again" The young man nods, although not because he agrees. He just wants to appease the square mick in front of him. "I stopped taking it" The good doc's eyebrows raise. "Why?" Jimmy shrugs his broad shoulders. "You said your mother was sick. What's wrong with her?" A flash of something in the doctor's eyes—anguish. Yes. This was a tender spot for him. "She has Ovarian Cancer" "She gonna die?" "She may, yes" "Does that make you sad?" "Aye" "You'll miss your mother?" "Aye, very much" "I hope your mother dies. I hope she dies all alone and it's weeks before anyone finds her. She'll be all rotten; her corpse all bloated, maybe some maggots crawlin' outta her mouth"

If this morbid presentation bothers the doctor he hides it rather well. "Well, if that is the case then I will certainly be suing hospital" Jimmy scoffs, turning his attention out the window. "Why do all you paddy's say 'go to hospital' instead of 'the hospital'? Dr. Meadows shrugs, following Jimmy's gaze outside. "How're the nightmares?" "Orgasmic" Dr. Meadows laughs, shaking his head. "I bet" "Nurse Marshall comes in at night and gives me unnecessary enemas" "And what makes you think they are so unnecessary? Being so full of shit, as you are" A slight smile forms on the young man's face. The first time he has smiled in several days. It hurt. Frowning was easier and suited his face much better. "I'm going to add Lithium in with the Lamotrigine to keep your moods stable. It should also help you to sleep" "Is it gonna make it impossible for me to bust a nut?" "I'm assuming you mean is the medicine going to keep you from climaxing?" Jimmy nods, stifling a grin. It was one of his favorite things to do during these meetings; make the good doc as uncomfortable as he possibly could. "No, not like the Lexapro or Prozac. Most patients find no change in libido. If I may—why the sudden interest in sex? Last week you felt quite differently" Dr. Meadows knew, of course, that this intense shift in emotion was part of Jimmy's disorder, but in most cases, particularly Jimmy's; these shifts in mood or outlook were generally triggered by something. But the young man offers no answer. His big eyes seem to glaze over as he stares at the doctor without really seeing him.

"Jim—they told me your mother tried to see you. I put the staff on strict order not to allow her inside under any circumstances" The boy's eyes darken to an unnatural shade, reminding Dr. Meadow of a great white shark just before the kill. Sometimes the kid frightened him; mostly because the good doc knew the truth about him. Jimmy was a psychopath. And there was nothing that modern medicine could do for him. There was no medication to cure his brain, no amount of therapy. The only thing Dr. Meadows could do was try and keep Jimmy stable. Sometimes he fully believed the boy was improving and other times he felt that all his efforts were in vain. "There's a new patient" Dr. Meadows is suddenly brought back to the present. "Hmhm, yes, there is" "She looks like Bette Davis; a little fatter though and bigger tits" Dr. Meadows crinkles his brow, attempting to recall the infamous actress. "I suppose there is a resemblance; now that I think about it. Do you like Bette Davis?" Jimmy ignores the question, slowly rising to his feet. He walks about the office, fiddling with a cup of pencils on the doctor's desk. He makes a hole out of his fingers and then inserts three of the pencils slowly in and out. "Why's she here?" Dr. Meadows sighs, folding his hands in front of him. "You know I can't tell you that" "I bet she tried to kill herself. She looks weak. What'd her husband leave her for some hot, young, skinny..." His voice trails off as he notices the doctor's countenances shifting. This was not a topic that the mick felt was up for discussion and thus becomes Jimmy's desired goal of the meeting.

"Why's she here then?"

"I can't tell you that, Jim"

"What can you tell me?"

"Why are you so interested? Is that why you wanted to change the meds? This...new patient that looks like Bette Davis?"

Jimmy draws tiny, invisible circles on Dr. Meadows' desk, his expression vacant as before. The doctor starts to ask another question, but the sudden jingling of a cell phone interrupts him. Dr. Meadows pulls it from his jacket; his dark brown eyes filling with worry as he places it to his ear. The kid slowly makes his way toward the door; taking his leave. But then turns sharply and says; his affect as flat as his voice: "Your Mom's dead"

I awoke the next morning feeling as though someone had forced me to swallow a massive boulder in my sleep. It sat achingly heavy—undigested in my gut. I did not want to get out of bed. There were no windows in the room, but I knew that the sky was a dreary grey. I knew what awaited me. Two weeks I had been here and already I was more than sick of the place. I had been sick of it before I even arrived. I was sick and tired of everything. Tired of being sick and tired. Isn't that rock bottom? Hmm. Seems I have been at rock bottom my entire life; long before alcohol and drug addictions had taken a firm hold. Black shadows they are. Foreboders. Wraiths. They want me. I see them in my sleep; they come. A swirling mist of blackness above me, around me. What makes me so special as they would want to consume me? But, I know it isn't because I'm special at all. I'm completely normal. Just like everybody else. The delusions of grandeur are just that—delusions. It took reminding myself of this—of my banal existence, but I was getting better at it. Every day I woke up and I told myself firmly that I was ugly and that I was fat. And I'm okay with this. I have to embrace my hideousness. I have to accept the fact that I have never been—nor will ever be attractive or worthy of affection from someone I also desired. I was content with this. It had taken nearly thirty years, but finally, I had accepted my lot in life. And, there was a certain freedom in it. I did not have to try any longer. I accepted that I would be alone for the rest of my life. Just as I had always been. And it was okay.

So I got up out of bed and made my way toward the shower area. It was similar to a prison shower except there were tan plastic shower curtains in front of each individual stall to offer some semblance of privacy. As dehumanizing as it presently seemed in my bleak mindset—I had to be grateful I wasn't on Suicide Watch. They had to be monitored while they did everything; shower, shave, brush their teeth—take a shit. I felt just as bad for the person who had drawn that job ticket as I did for the patient. Life. Life sucked. It was a filthy, dirty, disgusting world and I hated it. I often wished that a giant asteroid would wipe all humans from existence—myself at the front of the line. All I saw around me was wickedness—evil—and there was no punishment! Molesters, murderers, rapists, corrupt sociopaths void of emotion or empathy. Those were the sorts who ruled the world. Reptilians, who when one died another was hatched to take its place. I hated them. I wanted to kill them all. I wanted to wipe them off the face of the earth. My gut burned with rage at the corruption of it all—the constant deals with the devil as though he were a reputable business man. But, how many times had I myself sat down to sup with him—dipping into his delicious soup with my tiny plastic fork. Let there be a new start. Let it be a new beginning with the innocents—the children—the babies. The pure souls who know nothing of hatred or malice—who are born to love and only desire love in return—yes, let them be the representatives of man-kind. After showering; I make my way out to the concrete patio and just like I had thought; the sky was a dark, melancholy grey dotted with swollen and bruised clouds that sat slumped and heart-heavy one atop the other.

A distant voice breaks into my calm reverie. I glance upward, squinting even though there is no sun. I can barely make him out, but it looked like the kid, Jimmy and I realize that this is the first time I have seen him up close. He was tall, 6'1, maybe--specter pale with dark purple bags below his opaque eyes. His brows were arched in such a way as to give him an intense countenance; as though it were more natural for him to appear troubled than anything else. His physique did not match the rest of him; having a lean, natural build that he did not have to try to maintain. His hair is a sun-bleached blonde and fell in unkempt waves around his eyes. I could see the swollen gash on his head. It would leave a long, jagged scar; serving as a hardened cow-lick. He is wearing a pair of worn blue jeans and a long sleeve blue and black striped t-shirt. He towers over me whilst making love to the cancer stick he held between his fingers. I am weary of him, but I'm not weary of the cigarette he was presently smoking. He brings it fluidly to his lips as though the act were an art in itself, then he smiles at me, a ring of dimples appearing around his mouth. "How'd you do it?" "Huh?" "Try to kill yourself" An unearthly shiver tingles up my spine. How could he know? But, before my imagination gets too carried away; I quickly remind myself that though a state hospital, it was small and full of people---and people—bat-shit crazy or not—liked to gossip. That was just the way of things. Still, his bold and unfeeling inquiry made me angry. "I didn't" The kid scoffs, chuckling. He leans forward as if to pass me the cig and just as I reach out to take it; he grabs my arm, shoves up my sleeve and attempts to examine it. I jerk backward, but his grip is unshakable.

"You have to go deeper"

"What?"

"If you're tryin' to slit your wrists you have to cut deeper"

"Fuck you"

"I was gonna take it slow, but alright"

I slowly rise to my feet, my forearm sore from the kid's death-grip. But, in my attempt to get away; I had left my notebook on the table. As though having the same realization; we both dive toward it. But as it often happens; youthful grace wins out and he picks it up with one fluid motion, grinning boyishly as he does. I watch, helpless, as he flips open the pages; his eyes like blocks of coal as he scanned my words. I wait for him to get comfortable for a moment, let him think I was too chicken-shit to try and get it back. Yes. Yes, I could be patient. I'm a tardigrade. I can survive in the vacuum. I need nothing. No water. Not even air. Then, all at once, I rush at him, hands spread wide like a tiger's claws. My plan works and he stumbles backward, dropping my notebook onto the asphalt. Grabbing it up as though the wire bound tree guts were my child; I start back inside; away from this asshole—this...bully. Just like all the other boys who had tortured me in school. On the bus, eighth grade, at the end of the day; one of the popular boys had a dirty magazine.

There was this woman shoving the neck of a guitar inside her vagina. That was the only thing I remember about it and then what happened afterward, of course. I was sitting in the seat, lost in my own thoughts as I often was and the boy along with two or three others swarm around me; shoving the spank mag in my face; making me look at it. I start to get up and move toward the front, but they block my way. I manage to push past them, but they follow behind me up the narrow rows, taunting and laughing: 'Don't you wish you looked like her?' Over and over they said it. And the truth was; I did wish I looked like the woman. Then, instead of getting ridiculed and brow-beaten; these same douches would want to fuck me. And that was a lot better than being not just undesirable, but being so hideous and grotesque that it made me completely and wholly unworthy—of anything—or anyone.

"Hey, are you okay? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to--" I slowly come back to the present. The kid is standing in front of me, his dark brows stitched with genuine concern. Blinking rapidly; I feel my face twisting into an involuntary scowl. "Get away from me" My voice is low, guttural; I don't recognize it. But, the kid does. Something flashes in his black eyes and he edges backward, watching me curiously as he does. Done with the whole situation; I grab my notebook and head back inside. I clutch it lovingly, protectively against my chest. It was mine. My own. His lunatic paws would never lay hands on it again. Or I'd kill him.

"I want to apologize, Aida. We would have met last week, but I my mother recently passed away" "I'm sorry" My response must have taken him by surprise because he looks at me—really looks at me, but it is only there for a second before his sincere professionalism takes firm hold again. Oh, to be both in the spotlight and behind the curtain! "How're you adjusting here?" "Alright, I guess" There is a long pause and I begin to shift uncomfortably. I could feel my skin start to tingle and burn from the tension. It was suffocating! Finally, when I cannot bear it anymore; I blurt out: "Aren't you supposed to ask me questions or something?" The doctor shrugs, leaning back in his chair. "Do you want me to ask you questions?" I keep my head down so he cannot see my eyes. Eyes were windows, you know. "I don't—No, not really" "Alright" His response flabbergasted me; his whole demeanor was strange. He wasn't like the countless psychiatrists and therapists in the past. I had not seen him glance at his watch once and I had been looking. There was a big, fat round clock on the wall behind me. I had spotted it when I first walked in the room. He had not looked at that one either. Of course, there were lots of devices one could use to ascertain the time. He could have a little sun dial tucked inside his britches. The doc was strange to me. I had never known anyone like him before. This man was royalty in these un-regal times. I felt minute in his presence; amoeba, bacteria, dinosaur shit. I just wanted to get out of here. "--look like Bette Davis. Do you know who that is?" "Huh?' "One of the patients here. They said you look like Bette Davis" I scoff shaking my head. "Yeah...in her role as Jane Hudson" Dr. Meadows laughs, mentally recalling the infamous film.

"Even then she was beautiful...a little crazy, but beautiful nonetheless" He was making me feel comfortable; films and television had been my childhood companions, closest confidants. I knew more about movie stars than I did about any 'real' person. He would choose to talk about this subject. These damn flats. Always looking for a way in—a way to cut me open—and examine what's inside. They'd just throw my brain away afterwards. They wouldn't keep my organ in Formaldehyde. "Her character believes that she caused her sister to lose use of her legs. Her anger is really guilt and sorrow at her sister's pain. In the end, she finds out that she didn't cause the accident at all and—" "But she's too far gone by that time. She's been driven completely mad by grief" Dr. Meadows opens his mouth to speak, but stops short, folding his hands in front of his mouth. He takes a deep breath and then exhales. "I want to talk about why you're here"

No more movies. The cold plunge of death's sickle. My throat takes the first blow and I can feel the boulders mounting; like a rock quarry beneath my Uvula, only I couldn't gag it up. The nausea settles over me anyway. Please, not here. Not here. "Aida, it's okay. You're not there. You're not there anymore" My breathing intensifies along with the muscle inside my chest. Run, you stupid girl. Run!

"I don'—I don't want to talk about that" I can feel his eyes heavy upon me.

"You're suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. It's completely natural for what you've gone through"

"I'm not a soldier"

"Doesn't matter"

"It was nearly ten years ago"

"That doesn't matter either. I know it's difficult for you to talk about, but eventually, if you want to heal from this, you must"

"Do you think I can get better?"

"You can. And you will"

"You won't, ya know" I exit Dr. Meadows' office and nearly bump right into the kid. The anger he had incited earlier rises in my gut and I walk past him, heading outside for a smoke. He follows behind me, like a little child misbehaving for attention. He annoyed me; a mosquito buzzing incessantly against my ear. "Personality Disorders are impossible to cure" I jerk around to face him and he presses himself against the wall; raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. My rage cools, but doesn't die out. "What're you talking about?" "The good doc told you you'd get better, right? He tells that to everyone—to encourage them—and most people can get better, but not us. We're completely fucked" "I'm not fucked. Maybe you're fucked, but not me" He laughs, throwing his messy head back. God, didn't he ever brush it? "BPD is in the same class as Psychopathy" "How did you—I don't have that. I'm not crazy" I stalk past him then, heading outside. This time he doesn't follow, but calls after me: "I see you, Aida. They don't see you, but I see you" I know you aren't supposed to argue with the devil, but I turn to face him anyway. "Well, then, close your eyes" He recoils backward as though something had stung him. Did my words really have such an effect on people? But, the kid recovers easily and starts toward me. I turn to run outside, but he holds the double doors closed with both arms; trapping me between them. "Leave me alone. Fuck!"

"Shhh" He holds his finger in front of his mouth like a child; looking cautiously around. I couldn't believe no one heard us. Where the hell were all the nurses, the orderlies? Why didn't Dr. Meadows come out and help me? The place felt deserted and I shrink deep inside myself. "We're the same, Aida. That's what I mean. I see you and you see me too. We're the same. We're the true gods in this place—all the rest are fakers—they play crazy to get attention, but us...not us...you live to die—not fearing death, but pleading for it. I live to bring death. We are consorts, don't you see? That's why you came here" I stare up at him, speechless at his mad confession. His dark eyes appear full of light for the first time; streaks of lightning against a black sail. And I ask the question that I found to be the most appropriate, "Are you going to kill me then?" He recoils backward again, his eyes widening as though my question were the most absurd thing he had ever heard. "Kill you!? No, I'd never do that. I'm a loving person; really I am" I scoff, folding my arms defensively over my chest.

"You're fulla shit" "Huh?" "You said you were a psychopath. Psychopaths by definition are completely apathetic" He nods thoughtfully. "Good to know, but why are you talking about psychopaths? No one said anything about psychopaths" I throw my hands into the air, frustrated. "Man, yes you did! Just a second ago" "I never said I was a psychopath, but now I know for sure that you are" He turns and starts toward the opposite end of the corridor; his gait cool, confident as though he walked on air. "I'm not psycho. I have Anxiety, PTSD, BPD and Major Depression...er...something!" A flurry of nurses suddenly appear followed by the Gestapo-looking orderly. I realize that I am screaming down the hallway to the young man, but he had long disappeared 'round the corner. They all stare at me, silently judging me. I hate them. Damn them all. "What?! If it wasn't for people like me ya'll wouldn't have a job!" And I push the double doors open then; the sunshine greets me with its warm embrace. How long had it been since I felt the sun against my flesh? How long had it been since I even had the notion to feel it—or feel anything for that matter. Sobriety sucked. I just wanted out. I just wanted to escape. The confrontation with the kid had left me uneasy. And I wasn't entirely sure if it was because of what he said or the fact that I actually considered some of it. What if he was right? What if I was a psychopath? Not all psychopaths committed atrocities; in fact most never break any actual laws at all. I had never been in trouble with the law. I have always been a good girl. I never liked to get in trouble and I still don't. The kid was mistaken, badly mistaken. He saw something in me that wasn't there. This was a mental hospital, after all. I had to take everything people said here with a grain of salt. Fuck 'em. Fuck 'em all. I just wanted to get high.

I kept myself busy the next several days and time flew by as though it didn't exist. I wrote a lot, smoked a lot, day-dreamed and when I wasn't busy with those things I did whatever chores Nurse Marshall had posted for me to do. I cleaned toilets, scrubbed and polished the floors and washed all the linens. I took out the trash and served my unit breakfast, lunch and dinner. When the staff was short I helped with the invalid patients; bathing them, feeding them, brushing their hair and helping them get dressed. I did everything they told me to do. I was good. I followed the rules. I didn't fight them. I would submit...for now and then they would let me go. I'd be free again. Just a little while longer and I'd be free. The sound of sneakers scuffing on the floor brings me back to the present. Murmured voices follow and then the firm closing of the basement door. I immediately assume it is Natalie on one of her escapades with the SS so I attempt to ignore it.

But, I can't ignore it. So I get up and inch toward the hallway. I carefully look down both ends and finding them deserted; I walk on tip toes toward the basement door. I don't know what I expected to see. But, what stared back at me was not Natalie, but Jimmy and...a woman. A very old woman—old for him at least. He is pressed against the concrete wall; a few steps down from the top. She is burying her face into the crook of his neck; her crimped blonde hair covering her face. I would have walked away then and thought no more of the whole scene, but just as I start to, the kid turns to me—his eyes--black holes. I walk away then, but I do not go back to my room to write. The mood had long since passed. So I head out to the patio instead; only to find that my makeshift sanctuary had been polluted. The asphalt was dotted with a few dozen people; all of them attempting to talk over each other. The raucous noise made my ears ring. I wish I had my headphones. I should have stayed in the room. I turn to head back that way to escape all the madness when I hear someone call my name. Susie is jogging toward me, reaching the cigarette out toward me as she does. I take it, grateful for the smoke as well as the company. "This place is a mad house, huh?" I laugh. The first time I had done so in forever. "These people all lunatics?" Susie laughs, taking back the cig.

"Well, sure, me and you know they are, but getting them to admit it is a whole different story. I'm kidding, it's Visitors day. They let families come every six months" I nod, slowly taking in the strangers around me. I felt as though they were all staring at me, silently judging me behind the dead-glow of their smart phones. God, why hadn't I just stayed in my room? "—family?" I blink, coming back to now. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you" "I just said do you have family?" The icy cold plunge again, right to the pit of me. "No, no, not really" She nods, her eyes drifting to the talking heads around us. "Supposed to see my kids, but my mother-in-law didn't bring them again. I knew the bitch wasn't going to. But, it's alright. Just as soon as I get outta here; I'm gonna get them back" She lowers her brown eyes and clears her throat. I reach out and place a hand on her shoulder. But, I do not realize I have done this until she looks up at me; just as surprised by my show of compassion as I was. I recoil then, chuckling uneasily. "Dr. Meadows said he would help you. He seems like he really cares. I think he will"

She shrugs her generous shoulders, plucking two cigs from her pack. Lighting them both; she hands me one and keeps the other. We stand in silence for a while; both enjoying the poison being inhaled into our lungs. The other people seemed so different than me. They were all the same. They had the same hair styles, the same clothing, the same cars, the same devices. They all spoke about the same things, used the same tone of voice, the same body language, the same sense of humor. A mob. That's what they were. And I realize that I better hurry up and finish this cig before they come after me. Who knew when I would have another—or if I would have another. The double doors are suddenly pushed open behind me and the woman I had seen before emerges. Being in direct sunlight made her appear much older than the fluorescent lights had. Funny, how high maintenance people always had to have just the right lighting. Her black hooker heels click on the sidewalk and I watch her as she goes. She was too overweight for the outfit she was trying to pull off. She reminded me of the way sausage looks when trying to squeeze it out of a narrow opening. What did he want with her? She was...No, wait. Why do I care? I don't. I don't. But, my big mouth betrays me like it always does. "You said today was Visitors day. I thought that meant only family members" "Yeah, so?" "I don't think she's family" I point with my cig toward the parking lot where the woman was just climbing into a red 80's firebird. Susie strains her eyes to see and when she does her face grows stormy. "Yeah, actually she is family. That's Jimmy's mom"

It had been a few weeks since Visitor's day and I had not seen the kid once. No one spoke about him and when his name was mentioned everyone lowered their eyes as though he were dead. Maybe he was. I still didn't know why I cared considering how rude he had been to me. But, I really couldn't be angry at him anymore. I suppose it was seeing him like that in the stairwell.... his big eyes. I could feel the pain in my chest growing as though a massive weight lay atop me. The pain pressed down, slowly suffocating me. I had to think of something else. There was nothing I could do about anybody's suffering. Hell, I couldn't even handle my own. And yet, I did hope that he was alright—at least as alright as one could be in such a...situation. I'm sitting in the rec area, scribbling in my notebook. I would need a new one soon. This one was just about full. The double doors open and I look up to see a man shuffle inside followed by two orderlies. He looks about the place, taking it in as one who is shopping for a new home. He is middle aged, late fifties, early sixties, plump in the middle, but skinny everywhere else, with ghost-grey stringy hair that stood all about his head as though he had been electrocuted. His stubbled face appeared haggard; giving the look of a man to whom life had not been particularly kind. I watch him curiously from a safe distance away, studying his movements, his body language. By all appearances he looked like a vagrant, but there was...something else. The orderlies attempt to take his arms, but he jerks free of them. "Get off me, you filthy buzzards" His voice reverberates throughout the rec room. It is deep and gravelly, from years of smoking no doubt.

"Calm down, Mr. Davowski" "What'dya mean 'calm down'. I am calm! And I'd be a lot calmer if you all would leave me alone" "Alright, Mr. Davowski, let's go" He struggles to free himself and in so doing our eyes happen to meet. He returns my curious stare and stops resisting. We watch each other until the orderlies lead him down the hallway. "That's Mr. Davowski" I turn to see Susie behind me. She had been in much spirits since Visitor's day and I was glad for it—even though I'd never admit it. "Who's Mr. Davowski?" "Oh, you don't know? I figured you'd know if anyone knew—being a nerd and all that" "Ha ha, you're a real funny guy" I follow her outside for a smoke, thankful that we could jest back and forth. It was very rare for me to find someone I was instantly comfortable with so this was a rapport that I hoped to maintain. "He's a really famous writer and poet. They teach college students his stuff—like Ivy League colleges. I know because they've come here to interview him a couple times. He always blows them off so they finally caught the hint and stopped coming" "What's a famous poet and writer doing in a place like this?" "He's still only a writer and poet—regardless if he's famous or not" "Yeah, but still, he should be loaded" "Well, it's probably a little difficult when you drink like a fish and have a tendency to spend all your money on hookers and blow" "Ahh, I don't buy that" "Find out for yourself" And I would.

Thankfully, I did not have to wait long to satisfy my curiosity as later on that day I happened to see the old man out on the patio. He was puffing on a cig; the breeze fluttering the smoke about him as loosed spirits. The patio was mostly deserted with Mr. Davowski standing off by himself, staring out at the gently swaying Pine trees. Gathering my courage; I start toward him. "Excuse me, Mr. Davowski?" He jerks his head over to look at me, blinking several times as though he had not seen another human being in years. "What'dya want?" I clear my throat, the lining of my gut slowing icing over. "I was jus—I was wondering if you could offer any advice—about writing, I mean" His eyes settle heavy upon me; leveling me with just one look. Then with a voice as cold as my gut says, "Don't"

Jimmy had spent the last two weeks in isolation. He was kept in a small, padded room and locked behind a steel door. The only window was a little hole that the orderlies used to bring and pick up his food tray. It was the hole, solitary—an oubliette. Dr. Meadows had come to see him every day and had campaigned for him to be released, but the owner of the hospital, along with the incessant prodding of Nurse Marshall had denied his request. He didn't care anyway. They kept him doped up on Haldol and he spent a good bit of time in a daze. The remainder of the time he masturbated. It served as a welcome escape from his own private hell. At first it had been difficult to get an erection as the Haldol gave him whiskey dick. But, when he wasn't on it; there was no problem getting hard; it was busting a nut that escaped him. He imagined different starlets, singers, models in magazines he had seen long ago. He thought of the cheerleaders at his high school; the bitches who to them; he were no more than a ghost. And maybe he was. But, he liked being a ghost now. He had embraced his cloak of invisibility and considered it a great gift and blessing. He used it to allude the soul-killers. But, none of that made him cum, of course. But, then a face flashed in his mind's eye. Aida's face.

She did not look kind in his imagination. She was not sensual; begging for his manhood. He envisioned her the way she had been out on the patio that day. That day. When he saw that streak of blood red in her hazel eyes, he knew. He knew they were the same. Soul mates, twin flames, kindred—lovers from past lives perhaps. His mind moves down the length of her. Her round, generous breasts that she kept hidden behind baggy shirts; trying to hide how attractive she truly was. Why? Why did she hide? But, then he knew. They would steal it away. Perhaps...that was why she was here. He was brick hard now; pre-ejaculate oozed from the mushroom tip. He imagined Aida licking it off, tasting him, taking all of him inside her. Hungrily; loathing him—disgusted by him--yet wanting more and more and more. He wanted to eviscerate her; he wanted to rip her open and nestle himself deep inside her innards. Her blood was pure and her heart—her heart would heal him. He came then; thinking of all that beautiful crimson. He saw himself covered with it, against a pure lamb white backdrop of salvation. He saw a chalice filled with her life force and himself drinking it greedily; two red stains streaking down his mouth. And after that; he masturbated everyday while thinking of Aida. In so doing—his mind became very clear—as though in some sort of deep mediation. He was the Dalai Lama. He was Gandhi when he jerked off. He had never felt so...relieved. She was a Goddess to him now and when he finally got out of this place—he planned to give her the proper veneration that she deserved.

"We're going to the zoo!!" I awake with a start to find Natalie pouncing on my bed; her face glowing with excitement like a child on Christmas morning. "What?" I sit up, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. Normally I would be severely pissed off right now at having been woke up, but the wide grin on the girl's face kept the anger at bay. Her excitement was infectious and even though I would never admit it—it was certainly better to be woken up this way than to my own boring and morose existence. "The zoo. We're going to the zoo today!" They don't let crazy people go to the zoo. Deviants can't be around the general public without displaying abhorrent behavior. At least; that's what my file said. "C'mon, A-duh, get dressed, hurry up. The busses leave in thirty minutes" The sun meets me as I'm still climbing the hill—I the prodigal wanderer—daughter of the moon. His embrace is warm, gentle. No judgment, no questions, no assumptions. Only love. I see Susie-Q, Natalie, Fredericka, Marnie and grouchy old Bess all standing in front of a school bus. Dr. Meadows was off to the side with three other men I did not recognize; all of them staring intently down at a stack of papers in the doc's hands. I start toward the group, taking my safe place beside Susie. As strange as it seemed; these women had become my friends. I had not had any close relationships in many years. I had no social skills and I was horribly shy around people I did not know. I never could make small talk. To me that is more arduous than climbing atop a mountain with a massive boulder atop your back. But, small talk was not needed here. If you did not feel like talking then you didn't have to and no one was the wiser for it. No one held a grudge against you or whispered amongst themselves about what could possibly be wrong with you. Acceptance. Pure and simple and the realization of this was almost too much to bear.

"C'mon, ladies, let's go!" A shrill whistle pierces the air and I look up to see Nurse Marshall standing at the front of the bus. She reminded me of a catholic nun at some dusty old boarding school in England. Something straight out of The Wall. I could see her lining us all up, zombies; marching us toward the hamburger grinder. "Wake up, Aida. You're always day-dreaming. You must pay attention to what is going around you, dear" She starts to force me on the bus, but I jerk away, shooting her a hateful glare. She recoils, but only slightly. I did not frighten her. She had seen animals like me before and we were all capable of being tamed. I climb aboard, recalling all the times I had done this as a child. I had always sat alone on the bus. I never had many friends. Perhaps that is why I now lived inside my head. Survival and all, you know. "Aida, sit with me" Susie calls to me from the back of the bus and I quickly make my way toward her. If only I had had a friend like her when I was a kid. Maybe then I wouldn't be so far gone now. I slide in beside her with Natalie and Marnie across and Fredericka and Bess in front. This was my little group; my own little clique. I just had to lose my mind in order to gain my life. "Everyone in?" "Yes, let's go!"

Two of the burliest orderlies climb inside followed by Nurse Marshall who takes a seat in the front across from Dr. Meadows. One of the men that he had been speaking with is the last to board and takes a seat behind the steering wheel. I can see him looking at us through the rectangular mirror above him. I don't like his judgmental stare and I hatefully stick my tongue out. The bus rumbles to life and I lose myself in the scenery. The bucolic landscape was dotted with vibrant pinks and magenta azalea bushes. The Oak trees; whose limbs had been naught but arthritic, gnarled bones a few weeks ago—were now full of emerald leaves. They fluttered in the breeze; moving, dancing, individually—yet in rhythm with the other trees. They spoke to one another, you know. Not the way you and I do, of course, but they have a voice nonetheless. I read about some study where two plants were placed in a room. Someone came in with an axe and hacked one of the plants to death. The same person carrying the same axe came into the room and the remaining plant began to tremble at the sight of it. Now, how don't know how much truth there is to this, but it is certainly interesting; now isn't it?

It doesn't take us long to arrive at our destination. Perhaps because my mind had been occupied. The zoo is a large park at the edge of the city where the woods had not been completely timbered. It was mostly desolate today; a few young kids dragging their parents around, groups on field trips and some old people enjoying a nice stroll in the sun. Yes. This was normal. I could be normal. I lag behind, letting the other passengers exit first. I am the last to leave the safe confinement of the bus. The late afternoon sunlight blinds me and I quickly make my way over to the shade provided by the massive Oaks and their beautiful sashes of Spanish moss. The other women are excited and their happiness is contagious, but I am immune to it—for now. After purchasing tickets everyone files through the entrance. The first stop is a petting zoo for small children. Local farmers provided nanny goats, a llama and a big fat pig who lay lazily on one side. The llama looks at me with its brown, crooked teeth. I return the expression and the creature watches with bored indifference me as it munches its hay. Once we leave this area the next stop is the Rhino exhibit. There is only one and he stands at a small gate similar to a one used by farmers to hold their livestock. I was amazed at how unsecure the place seemed to be. I felt as though with just a little effort and wiliness I could hop right in.

I follow along behind everyone else. Their chattering carries to me, but I can't really make out anything they are saying. The park ran through the woods and, to the credit of the owners, tried to keep the land as natural and undisturbed as possible—if that even was possible. The further I went the more swamp-like it became. I let the group go ahead and I walk slowly, registering each thing with precision detail. A little stream trickled beneath the bridge; looking like a brook of whiskey on the rocks. I stop and watch it for a while; the way the water moved, the ripples and shapes it formed. The bumblebees and other insects buzzed unthreateningly around me. Something rises in me—like a warm, soothing waterfall and for a moment—and for reasons unknown to me—I feel such gratefulness, such peace and love that for a second I am sure that the One is right here in this wretched world with me. The Man of Sorrows. Prince of Peace. Love. All encompassing. All forgiving. Yes. I felt God and I remembered how much I had tried to forget Him. It hurt too much now and confusion had been sent upon me. I shouldn't have branched out and tried to learn other things. I should have remained in the dark. It's better there; safer. Now, the black robed figure stands, waiting for me to make a choice—And I can't. I'm indecisive when once I was so certain. How dare I have doubt? I am the worst of all! I know the truth and yet I prefer to live a lie. What is this...thing in me? This...sin. It's so ugly. I'm so ugly and the demons laugh and laugh and laugh.

"Aaaaa-duuuuhhh" Natalie calls to me from somewhere far away, but to me it sounds like the shrill droning of an alarm clock so I promptly hit the snooze button and all goes silent again. I was so far behind now I could no longer see the rest of the group. I was all alone. By myself in this wild place. "There you are. I was looking for you" I turn to see Dr. Meadows standing beside me. The golden rays of the sun splayed against him; making it look as though he were wearing armor." I know. I'm sorry. I know I'm supposed to stay with the group" "It's okay, Aida. You don't have to apologize. You aren't in any trouble" He smiles at me and his greenish-gold eyes are kind, gentle. They remind me of my grandfather's eyes. "I've never been here before. It's brilliant" I don't know what to say so I don't say anything. I keep waiting for him to drop the small talk and get straight to business. I know he was going to reprimand me for going off alone; probably something to do with liability and all that. He most likely had to sign some kind of agreement—that's who those men had been back at the hospital. Of course! It all made sense now. He was pandering; playing the doctor with a poet's heart. But William Carlos Williams he was not. "I know you've had bad experiences with doctors in the past, Aida. I understand that you are afraid to trust me, but you don't have to be" I glance up at him, squinting against the sun. I wish he would take that damn armor off so I could see. His eyes appeared genuine, but I still wasn't convinced. I didn't trust him. I didn't trust anyone. So I simply shrug and he leaves to catch up with the rest of the group. I realize I had been holding my breath the entire time. It feels good to exhale and I realize that if there ever was a zombie apocalypse I'd be the first to go. Why hadn't Dr. Meadows yelled at me? Given me a gentle, yet firm admonishing. He seemed oblivious to the fact that I had broken the rules. Why? What was his M.O. here? He was throwing me for a loop and I didn't like that.

"There are wolves here" I jump, clutching my chest with terror. Jimmy is standing there—like some gaunt angel. The yellow light against his pale skin made him appear almost luminescent. "What're you doin' here?" He shrugs off the question and I don't push it. Why wouldn't Jimmy be here? It seemed to make perfect sense. "C'mon, I'll show you" He grabs me by the hand, but I pull away. Stranger danger. You don't ever get in the car with strangers. "What's wrong? Don't you want to see them?" "See what?" "The wolves" I decide to go with him. If he was going to murder me than at least he had picked a beautiful place; much better than the concrete casket I had just escaped from. Truth was—I loved wolves, but who didn't? They represent the wild, untamable side of us. The side that refuses to submit to society's standard of right and wrong; what is acceptable and not. The world I saw was that people received more punishment for saying a racial slur than murdering a child. What does it matter what someone says? It matters more what you do, but that's just my opinion and we all know what they say about opinions, now don't we?

Nothing made sense to me. But then, I had to remind myself that it didn't matter. I wasn't some sage or wise woman. What did I know? And if I did know the truth—what would I do with it? To simply know something is not enough. I have always been a dreamer. I have always had my head in the clouds. It was a form of escape when I was a child. I lived inside the Black Forest—immersed in all the fairy tales of old. Maybe I'm still there—in that ancient forest. A forest sort of like this one. But, who was this lunatic at my side? He wasn't the gallant wood cutter come to save me from the wolf. He was the wolf and he was leading me to his lair. "You like him, don't you? The doctor. You're thinking about him now" "What?" "I can tell. The way you look at him. Why do you like him? He's too droll for you" "I don't. And incidentally, what fucking business is it of yours?" There is silence between us for a while and I can hear everything so brilliantly. The cicadas in the woods, the bubbling of the little streams, different birds singing to one another. "Wanna know what I think about?" "No"

When he gets quiet I feel a pang of guilt at being so cold to him. But after a few moments the transgression has been forgotten and he leads us toward a tall green chain link fence. Beyond stretched a spacious green expanse of grass and there—in the middle—were two Red wolves. My heart literally skips a beat and I gasp at the sight of them. I have never seen a real wolf before. Only in movies or pictures. I felt lucky; truly blessed, but then something else creeps in. The wolf looks at me then; looks me right in the eye and I see the sorrow. I see my reflection in his golden eyes. "This place makes me sad" I don't even realize I have spoken until I hear Jimmy's voice beside me. "Me too" I turn and start the opposite way before the kid can see my weakness. He lags behind for a moment, staring intently at the wolves and then he quickly jogs to catch up with me. "Let's break them out" "What?" His eyes are wild and for the first time I notice that they are not black, but dark brown. "Break them out. Let's free them" I scoff shaking my head. "You're crazy" I think nothing of the comment and continue on ahead, but the kid jumps in front of my path, blocking it. "Don't say that. Anyone can say that, but you can't say that" I scoff loudly, throwing my hands into the air like a frazzled stay-at-home parent. "What is crazy like the N word for nut-cases?"

He walks ahead of me without answering and this time I have to jog to catch up with him. By the time I get there I am out of breath. I needed to lose about thirty pounds—and quit smoking. But one thing at a time here, cut me a break. "Jimmy, what did you mean when you said you were going to break them out? How did you get here? I know you weren't on the bus" He spins round to face me then, his cheeks flushed. "Don't—don't ask me questions like them" I lean back on my heels, physically taken aback at his reaction. "Jimmy—why are you—I mean—does it get you off? Does it make you feel good about yourself? Fucking with me?" He face darkens and that look overtakes his eyes again. He speaks through a clenched jaw. "Never" "Then what do you want?" His shoulders sink and I can see the anvil sitting heavy atop his back. I wish I could lift it. I wish I could throw it back into the abyss. "You need to go back to the group. They're going to be looking for you" He runs ahead of me then, but I'm too curious to turn back now. "What are you gonna do? Tell me, please" He stops suddenly then. "I'm gonna break the wolves out" I decide to take a different approach with him. "How? You'll get caught—they'll take you to jail" He scoffs, shaking his head with distain. "I'll be gone before they even know somebody broke in. They'll never catch me" I sigh, shifting my weight. "But if you do they'll take you to jail" He laughs, a deep belly laugh that for some odd reason comforts me. "They won't catch me. I promise" His voice is firm, his countenance stoic like some military commander of antiquity.

"What about the wolves though? Say they don't catch you; what will you do with them? They've been in that cage probably for a while. They've become accustomed to people feeding them. Plus, the highway is just on the other side of this patch of trees" His brow stitches with worry for a moment and I can see he is considering my words. Before he has a chance to argue I continue: "Plus, those kind of wolves are endangered. In Mexico; poachers have hunted them almost to extinction. This is a safe place for them. This is their home" His big eyes cloud with desperation and he slams his fists into the side of the wooden bridge. I'm not sure if the quaking I feel is because of his force or if it exists only inside me. "No. No! They're inside. They're inside a cage. And we walk by, looking at them, dissecting them with our eyes. We took away the soul of things; the heart. We've raped them! With our pictures and our gentle appreciation of their beauty. All the while they are creatures living their life in a fish bowl. Didn't you see the Cheetah? The way he paced back and forth in front of the fence; the bobcat too. The black bears, the fucking eagles. And the wolves...that is the worst of all. That is a Roman crucifixion—of the human spirit. A spectacle—a warning for all those who dare to disobey. They were miserable. So miserable. I felt their...hopelessness. Felt it burning, eating me alive. I can't...I can't bear it!"

I take a deep breath, bracing myself against the bridge. I keep waiting for somebody to walk by. The guy who carried the trash cans, a group of school-children, a young couple sneaking away to make out. Anybody. But, just like at the hospital, we were alone. The difference this time was that I wasn't afraid. In fact, everything the kid seemed to be saying right now made perfect sense to me. How could it be that we were both feeling the same thing? But, wait--if the kid was a psychopath then he didn't feel things—they just emulated others emotions. He probably wanted to break the wolves out so he could sacrifice them to the devil, cut their heads off and wear them over his own. I had seen stuff in movies about that sort of thing. And yet—call it denial—call it obdurate hope—but I admired his raw passion, as well as his candor. "I wanna come with you. Just tell me when" I didn't say that. Some girl that sounds like me did. Jimmy looks around us, wondering where the voice came from too. Then he grins and the dimples around his mouth look just like the ripples from the brook below our feet.

By the time I join up with the rest of the group it is time to leave. This place was too wide open and as strange as it sounded—I was ready to get back to the hospital—safe inside my concrete cocoon. When we arrive back all I want is a cigarette. It had been hours since I had one. The other women are thinking the same thing because as soon as we get checked in; we make a bee-line for the patio. The place was becoming familiar to me; comfortable. I liked being used to things. I liked mundane—the same thing every day. I had never known this as a child; constantly uprooted, moved around on my mother's whim. "Hey, where'd you go?" Susie passes me a cig and I take it gratefully. "I was with ya'll, just lookin' around, but then I ran into Jimmy" A strange look overcasts her bright face. Taking a deep pull; her dark brows furrow and she speaks through exhaled smoke. "Be careful of Jimmy. I know he seems harmless, but there's things about him you don't know" The cold plunge again as though someone had dumped a bucket of ice water down my throat. "Yeah, I know. But—I mean—why?" Susie looks cautiously around us. She reminded me of a doe in the woods. Eyes wide, ears perked, keenly aware of the danger—yet instinct offers no protection. Only the hopeless truth that there is no escape. But me. I—I in my foolishness—am unafraid. "I don't want to talk about it. In a lot of ways, this place is just like prison. Unless people tell—you don't ask. It can be a matter of survival. If Jimmy wants you to know then he'll tell you" I wasn't letting it go that easy. I was too invested now. "Did he kill someone? Did he kill a buncha people?" My skin burns; my gut tingles with anticipation. God! I'd cut her brain open to get my answer if I had to. But, she won't talk. She was a woman of the code and would sing for nobody. But I needed to know about the kid and she wasn't talking. So I'd have to find someone who would.

My first choice was obviously Natalie as she seemed the most likely candidate. They were close in age and both reasonably attractive. It made sense; a sort of macabre prom king and queen. I did not want to inquire too much, however, as to make myself obvious. Thankfully, I had a mile long list of chores to make up for the ones missed while at the zoo. It was good for me to have chores. It gave me a purpose. Presently I'm mopping the hallway, lost in thought as always and at first I do not hear the deep, husky voice speaking to me. "Wudda ya have to do to get somethin' to drink in this hell hole?" The old man, Mr. Davowski, is standing in front of me. His tan bathrobe is open, revealing the coffee stained white t shirt and knee length boxer shorts underneath. A pair of fluffy bunny slippers completes the look, giving him the appearance of every old person caught on security cams escaping from a nursing home. I remember how cold he had been to me before; confirming for the inth time why I don't engage with members of my fellow species. "Say girl, where's the booze?" "I dunno. I don't have any" His wrinkled face twists into a grimace and he shuffles past me, angrily muttering under his breath. I continue on mopping; mind blissfully empty as I work. "It's not total shit" I stop, slowly turning to look over my shoulder. The old man stands sideways, sipping from his white coffee mug. "What's not?" "Your writing. It's shit, don't get me wrong, but there could be a diamond or two buried underneath all them turds" "How'd you get my notebook? That's private"

Oblivious to my mounting rage—or pretending to be—Davowski takes a deep gulp of his coffee. His reply is irritably casual; as though I were asking him the time. "The kid showed it to me" "What?" "You know, the kid. The weird one" I shake my head, frustrated. "No, I know who Jimmy is. How did he get my notebook to give to you? "The old man shrugs his bony shoulders. "If I had to guess I'd say he stole it" I wanted to scream! What kind of place was this? People can't just—just go and steal peoples' notebooks. This was madness. Anarchy! "You might wanna thank the kid. I think he was tryin' to help you out; considerin' you're too chicken-shit to do anythin' yourself" I open my mouth to retort, but nothing comes out. What the hell, man? I had just been mopping; doing what I was supposed to do. Minding my own business like always. Who did this old fart think he was? Sure, Susie-Q said he was famous, but I'd never heard of him. He just looked like any homeless bum on the sidewalk to me. What an asshole and the fact that he had basically read my soul on paper made me feel even worse. I thought this place was supposed to make me better; not cause more stress. "Oh, get the sand outta your vagina. You should feel flattered" "Yeah, if you find blatant insults flattering" "The best things are always blatant, my dear! Fear the man who greets you with immediate praise and exaltation" "Who said that?" "I did. Just now" I abandon my chores for just a moment and tag along behind the old man. "How do you know Jimmy?" He jerks over to look at me, his eyes little black beads. "I don't" "You just said he gave you my notebook" "I know what I said. What's your point?"

I sigh, feeling very tired all of a sudden. "You ask the wrong questions, girl. That's your problem—or one of them, at least. Maybe you oughta try not thinkin' for a while. You might learn somethin'" I scoff, but still follow along behind him. "What's that supposed to mean? I shouldn't inquire about my private property being stolen?" "Oh shut up! No one stole from you. You wouldn't even have known if I didn't tell ya" "That's not the point..." "Then what is? You don't even know yourself, do ya? Ahh, this generation. What a waste!" He shuffles out the double doors then; disappearing into the early morning light like a spirit crossing over. I turn back and look down the endless, desolate hallway and then back again. Against my better judgment; I take off after the old man and meet him just as he is sitting down for a smoke. He offers a flick of his eye as acknowledgement to my existence, but nothing more. "Are you a writer?" He puffs his cig, staring out at the canopy of dark green trees before us. "I'm many things; a writer the least of them" "That's exactly what a writer would say" The old man either coughs or stifles a chuckle; I'm not sure. "Why do you wanna be a writer, girl? I do hope it's not for the money" "I don't care about money" "Of course you don't. You've never had to worry about it" "How do you know?" "Just a guess. I'm a pretty good judge of character" "Well, just because you're some old writer doesn't mean you have to be a dick"

He snorts, his bushy eyebrows raising with surprise. "He was right. You got some spunk" "Who was right? Jimmy? Why are you guys sittin' around talkin' about me? That's a little creepy" He scoffs, smudging out the cigarette. "Don't flatter yourself. We talk about many, many thangs, and, you, sugar tits, ain't one of 'em" "Okay...so what do you talk about then?" The old man plucks another long, white stick from a pack inside his pocket. "Why do you care, girl?" "He told me he was going to do somethin' and I'm not sure if he was jus talkin' or if he's really gonna do it" The old man nods to himself, striking a match. His movements were so fluid; like some wino tai chi master. "The wolves?" I nod, relieved that I wasn't the only one who knew. "Boys been talkin' about that for ages. These assholes never change anything up. Been goin' to the same damn zoo for fifty fuckin' years. Shit, I couldn't even count all the times that kid's been up there" "So he just talks about it? It's like...his thing?" The old man nods, his bushy brows knitting together thoughtfully. I still didn't know why I cared so much. Probably just something to distract me from getting well. Speaking of distractions; I see Nurse Marshall walking briskly toward us. "Good mornin' Ed" The old man offers a slight wave and a grunt in response. "Aida, there is a man downstairs with some paperwork he wants you to sign. Do you want to see him or should I send him away?" The cold plunge again; more like a deluge now. I had almost forgotten...almost. "No, no. I—I'll see him now. Best not put it off any longer" I head downstairs then, Nurse Marshall following silently a few feet behind. Time seems to slow and my sense of hearing leaves me. By the time I reach the main lobby; I am sure that my spirit has completely left my body. When the man sees me; his once handsome face twists into a hateful scowl. He wastes no time with pleasantries and gets right to the point.

"Why haven't you signed yet? It's been almost six months" That cold, accusatory tone; those soulless black pits. Please go away. Just go away! "I'm sorry" "Yeah, sorry as hell. But, here, just do it now" The stranger, with the cruel blue eyes that had once looked at me with such affection, had been the husband of my youth, shoves a stack of Xeroxed papers at me. I scan the typed words, but my eyes keep going blurry so I don't even try. I just skip to the signature page and sign; doing my damnest not to let the bastard see me cry. "I heard you tried to off yourself" When I do not respond, he scoffs, shaking his head with disgust. "Should've cut deeper; like I told you" "I didn't try to kill myself. I just drank too much" "Bullshit. Drink too much, smoke too much, swallow too much, eat too much, sleep too much. I tried to help you, Aida, I really did, but I ain't no fuckin' psychiatrist. So, you can try to make someone else feel sorry for you 'cause I'm done. Anyway, I'll send this to the attorney and everything should be finalized by next month—at the latest. The lawyer's office will send you something; I'm sure" He turns to leave then and I keep my head down until I am certain that he is gone. I watch him as he walks to his car. It was a new car, a red SUV, and I see a woman climb out the passenger seat. She is just his type—the way I once looked—not too long ago. Long golden brown hair, curvaceous in all the right places--happy. Turn around! Go have a smoke, read a book, write. Anything, but for God sakes look away!

The two embrace, both of them grinning like bobcats and then he opens the door for her. Just like he used to do for me in the beginning. When the woman turns to the side I can make out a small, rounded pouch. She was in the early stages; probably no more than three or four months, but I knew. I could tell. I want to turn away. My brain screams for me to run, but I can't. I'm frozen in place; superglued, sinking into this invisible quick sand. How many times had I stood in this same exact spot, watching him drive away and then pacing the floor anxiously until he returned? There would be no return now. He was gone. Moved on to the next naïve twit. And here I would remain; forever watching him go. I had completely forgotten that I was in public and when I turn to head out for a smoke I see everyone looking at me. All the girls, Dr. Meadows. Even Davowski had hobbled down the stairs to catch a glimpse of the drama. Yes, my pain was their entertainment. This was my generation's form of the Coliseum. But, I was no gladiator. I was no Daniel. God would not close the lion's mouths for me. Their jaws stretched open wide in an eternal yawn—waiting to devour me. I stalk past them; peanut-crunchers, vultures. The lot of them! "You like that? Huh? You enjoy the show, ya buncha freaks?!"Some of the patients laugh and deep down I know it is because they cannot help it, but I ignore rationality and use it for more fuel to add to my pity bon-fire. I bust out the double doors; hot, stinging tears flooding my eyes. I blink them away, hating the feel of them against my cheeks. A hand grabs my wrist and I turn to see Jimmy standing in the doorway. His big eyes bore into me; relaying his intense concern. But, I want nothing to do with him. I want nothing to do with anyone, or anything. I want nothing. Nothing. And it settles over me; a burning knowledge that soothed as well as scorned: I am nothing and no more once again.

I don't know how I ended up here. I guess I must have taken a wrong turn somewhere; as I presently found myself in the Valley of Darkness. I pray, plead and beg—but there is no rod and staff to comfort me. It's not like I deserved it anyway; solace—or forgiveness. That day. That goddamn fucking day! It plays like a loop inside my head. I can see everything; feel it. The way he looked. The way he looked. He was so gone. Nothing I could do. Nothing. My fault. Didn't get there in time. Slept too late. My fault. My fault. So innocent, precious. Didn't show him enough love. Didn't cherish him enough. Got aggravated; wanted to do my own thing. Twenty was too young for children. Why didn't I take the first two miscarriages as warnings? Now...there he lay—in that wooden coffin that I didn't even have enough money to pay for. Dead. So very dead. Rotting...my son. My little baby son. It's too much to bare. I jump to my feet, pacing the room like the great spotted cat had done at its own prison. I needed to get high. I needed to forget. God, there had to be something in here...It was a fucking hospital after all! Pills, liquor—anything to make me forget. But, there was nothing and just before I am about to start pounding my own head into the concrete wall—the door opens and in walks the light.

But, it isn't the light at all. It's two gorilla orderlies and they grab me, pulling me into their brutal jungle. I struggle against them, but my attempts are fruitless against their combined strength. I feel my body go limp and I imagine myself as a big fat fish, too tired to flop around any longer. I feel myself being pulled out into the hallway, but it's not my body at all. It's some other human. Some other...carcass. "Let her go, don't hold her like that. What's wrong with you, man? I'm going to have you reported. You don't ever carry a patient like that. Ever! Do you understand me?" The doctor's voice echoes from somewhere above me, but I cannot see him. The two orderlies grumble an apology and submissively lower their heads. A different set of hands take hold of me; their touch much gentler. Even in this state I am keenly aware of my flaws. I'm embarrassed for the doc to help me. I know I'm fat and he will not be able to hold my weight. He was a rather skinny man. But, he doesn't seem to notice at all—I don't even hear him struggling for breath. "Alright, Aida. I'm going to give you something that will calm you down a little, okay? Help you to rest" "Just let me go, please..." If I am speaking I'm no longer aware of it. Massive talons scratch from the corners of my mind's eye. They claw at me; hungrily pulling me toward them—toward the abyss. I felt no fear. I wasn't afraid. The death cloak covers me completely now—its black tendrils entwining me, caressing me. There is nothing—but that old familiar blackness. I am not afraid.

"How did this happen? How did this person get inside the hospital?" The good doc's furious eyes scan the staff members who all keep their heads down like children being admonished. "He said he was family, doctor" "Bullshit, somebody's not doin' their jobs. I'm going to see to it that this place is equipped with better security—and possibly, better employees. No visitors!" "Just for Ms. Meyer?" "No visitors for anybody!" Dr. Meadows stalks away then, the glass on the double doors nearly shattering as it slams shut behind him. The hospital staff had never seen the young doctor this furious. And they began to talk amongst themselves if his indignation were purely professional or...something else.

After my brief melt down—I slowly started to feel better. But, I still hadn't left the room much. My chest had nearly stopped aching because I had barely even smoked. I had not seen or really spoken to anybody since last week when my ex-husband had shown up. I knew it would happen eventually. I couldn't hide forever. In a way; I was grateful. I could be done with it now. It was certain now. We would never be together again. At the thought I expect the immediate ache, but there is none. For the first time...I do not feel sad. I jump from the bed and grab my notebook from the little side table. Natalie was out in the rec area with the rest of the gals so I had the whole room to myself. Settling back down on the bed; a soft tapping interrupts me. Always when I was preparing to write; as though some unseen adversary made it his sole purpose to keep me from doing the thing I loved most. I glance out the little rectangular window and jump back, startled when Jimmy's face suddenly appears before me. He is grinning that little boy grin. It was stretched all the way to his twinkling eyes. Against my better judgment (I seemed to be doing that a lot lately) I let him in. He bounds inside; hopping onto Natalie's bed and then onto mine. "What're you doin'?" He smiles, stretching his arms high above him. "Are you okay? I heard they had to put you on Watch" I shift uncomfortably, rubbing the side of my arm. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why?" "Nothin', I just wanted to see you. I guess I missed you"

There was that old familiar ache. Yes, right there. That poison ivy maddening itch. You can't help scratching it and then when you do it spreads—until the scarlet rash covers your entire body. Trouble. This was some bad trouble right here and instead of fleeing; I go deeper and deeper. Hip deep in the poisonous patch. "What're you doin' Jimmy? You gotta get outta here" He jumps from the bed then and walks slowly, purposefully toward me. I could get away if I wanted to. The door was merely inches away. But, I don't and then there is the feel of his warm palm cupping my face. So gently, as though he were afraid I would break. Male species could never be this tender. They were brutes, fascists, boot- against- the- headers'. "You don't need to be afraid of me, Aida" He caresses my cheek with his thumb as his lips, soft and wet, descend my neck. The heat emanates from his body; his pheromones invading every one of my known senses and I feel my head slowly entering the fog. His erection presses against me and my clit tingles with anticipation. No! No! No! This was wrong. He was a kid. So I recoil, obeying what little of my childhood morals remained. He showers me with kisses then, lovingly, the way a mother would kiss a child. Normally I would have found this sort of behavior strange, but for some reason coming from Jimmy I found it to be rather comforting.

"I don't think we should do this..." He chuckles, playing with strands of my hair. "What? We haven't done anything yet" "It's not only that—it's...I don't know how to fucking say it without like...causing a trigger or some—" "You're talkin' about that day in the stairwell, right? When you saw me with my moth—that...woman?" "Yes" "And you think because you're older than me that I'm workin' out some mommy- issues or some shit by wantin' to be with you?" "Well, I mean..." "Aida, what I feel for you is pure, whole; clean. It has nothing to do with her" He pulls away from me then so that I can no longer see his eyes, but takes my hand and leads me out into the hallway. We sneak into the same stairwell where the girls and I had smoked, but instead we climb up. He holds tight to my hand and I don't try to pull away. Once we reach the top of the landing Jimmy pushes open the door and leads us out onto the roof of the hospital. I could see everything from up here; the yellow lights from the little town below us—the tops of the trees that made it impossible to see where they stopped and black sky took over. Jimmy settles down on the ground and I take a seat across from him. Procuring a joint from inside his hoodie; he lights it and then passes it to me. "You've read the Bible, right?" I nod, stifling a cough. "What about the Talmud or the Zohar?" I shake my head, passing the joint back to him. He takes a deep pull and holds it in until his face nearly turns blue. "Well, most people don't know that Adam had a first wife—Lilith and God banished her because she wouldn't fuck missionary" "You need to stop smoking, seriously"

"So she moved to a cave by the Red Sea where she met Samael and the other fallen angels. She gave birth to hundreds of demon babies a day, but God, seeing them as an abomination, sent three mercenary angels and they murdered all her children. So Lilith vowed to avenge her children by killing all of Adam and Eve's future offspring—especially the boys—forever" I didn't feel good anymore. A dark, creeping shadow was beginning to circle us. "Why are you telling me this?" "Because, that's you, you're Lilith. God took away your son, but I can give you more. I can replace what he took away" "How--how do you know about my son?" "I know, Aida and it's okay. You don't see it now because it still hurts, but in time you'll see it as a gift—a blessing. Because, it brought you here. To me" "Stop! Stop talking about him!" I hold my hands tightly over my ears, tears welling in my eyes. Jimmy grabs my arms, forcing them down. "Aida, look at me, Aida. It was a good thing. A good thing. He had to die so you could truly live. If you didn't know pain—"I struggle to free myself from his grasp, only causing him to tighten his hold—"if you didn't know pain then you could never know joy, don't you see? There can be no light without dark. And in the dark is power. In the dark is freedom. An essential force that without there would be no light. Don't you see, Aida? It is us. We are the Saviors" "Jimmy, what did you do to get in here? Was it something terrible?" "Hey, what's goin' on? Aida, is that you?" I look up to see Dr. Meadows walking toward us. Jimmy leans forward and exhales a hurried whisper against my ear. "Don't trust him, Aida. No matter what he says, don't trust him. Soon. Soon, we'll let the wolves free. Just have to wait until the moon is right" Then he slowly rises to his feet, helping me up as well. The doc's eyes are sharpened spears as he studies us. I look down, hoping that the darkness will hide my burning cheeks.

"You know you aren't supposed to be up here, Jim"

"I know, doc. I was just leavin'"

He walks away, turning to look at me over his shoulder. And then, whistling what sounded like 'A whole new world' from the movie Aladdin; he pulls open the door and disappears down the stairwell. When we are alone Dr. Meadows turns to me; his brows stitching with deep concern. "Are you alright? What were you talking about?" I shrug, nonchalant, but I know he isn't buying it and his insistence grates my nerves. Big fucking deal he was a doctor. His license didn't give him ownership of me. I was a free woman. I belonged to no one. Maybe Jimmy was right. Maybe I was Lilith. All I knew was that I never wanted to be beneath a man again; figuratively at least.

After that night Jimmy and I became inseparable. In hindsight—that's the direction it seemed to be moving toward the entire time. Jimmy was the only one here who told the truth. I felt as though I could trust him. The more time we spent together; the more I realized that he was right. We are the same. I no longer pushed him away or tried to resist his friendship and it felt good—incredible—to finally know a kindred. I completely shut everyone else out because nothing they had to say mattered. The banality of small talk. How many times had I imagined just blowing their brains out to spare myself the drollness of their existence? No one seemed to notice my sudden isolation. I knew they all assumed it was a minor breakdown—due to the encounter with my ex-husband. At first it had been yes, but now, I had grown to like the solitude—this...wall that only Jimmy could scale. I take that back; no one seemed to notice except for the doc, but that was his job, now wasn't it? He seemed more concerned than any other ordinary doctor, but his vocation depended upon my recovering and becoming a productive member of society, yes? No one was genuine. He didn't really care. He just played the role like anyone else.

Why couldn't I be an actress? There were many talentless ones out there...but then again you can't be a starlet if you're terrified of the spotlight, now can you? So I try to remind myself of this as I sit in the doctor's small, cramped office. Why didn't he straighten up a little? He seemed so disorganized. Maybe I had just always thought of doctors, lawyers, anyone with a 'real' job—to be superior to me. Dr. Meadows didn't seem concerned with being superior to anyone. In fact, he didn't seem to be concerned with anything—except for his patients. He walks in, wearing that frazzled look on his face. When I meet his eyes, he smiles and the flood of relief I see is as an icepick being stabbed into my gut. It nearly takes my breath away—such a simple thing—a look! I have to take deep inhales to recover the lost oxygen. "I missed you at the group meeting yesterday" "Did you?" His dark brows knit. "Yes, I did, Aida" "I bet you say that to all the girls..." A strange look takes over his face as he studies me; dissecting me with those unnecessarily beautiful eyes of his. I always did crush too easy. I found beauty in too many things—too many people and I always let more out of my heart than was returned to me. But, Jimmy was teaching me how to be strong; how to use the pain as a weapon. How to gain power from it—become free from it. "I've noticed you have been spending a lot of time with Jimmy lately" "Uh huh" "He is very fond of you. From the moment you arrived here, in fact" "Yeah..." "Jimmy has been doing rather well since you arrived" "Yeah..." "You were doing well at first, but since you've been spending so much time with Jim; I've noticed a severe shift in your moods" I scoff, throwing my head back. "I thought 'severe shift in moods' was a part of Borderline Personality Disorder" "It is, yes, but the Lamotrigine had stabilized that. What I'm trying to say, Aida, is that Jimmy is not good for your recovery. You think that he is. He will convince you that he is, but he's not. You need to understand that" "I don't care about Jimmy" "I don't think that's true at all. I think you do care. Not just about Jimmy, but everyone—and everything. That is why it is so hard for you—your heart is too big—too open. I know because so is mine" Something begins to burn inside me and I shift uncomfortably; nervously rubbing the side of my arm. "What is it, Aida? Where are you?" "Don't...don't be real" He rises from behind the desk and walks slowly over to me. "I am real, Aida. I'm real and so are you"

"No! They took him away...they took him away because I was a horrible mother! I didn't love him enough. I didn't cherish him! It was my fault. I was so selfish. So goddamn fucking selfish and I hate myself! But I'm such a fucking coward that I can't even kill myself! So I call them to do it for me. And they do come. The black shadows...in my dream, there were three of them, surrounding my body. They were like starving dogs; ravenous to get inside me. Suddenly the three morph into one and dive inside my chest. I woke up then. I know. I know what it means. They're a part of me now. They're inside me..." My eyes are shut tight, but I know he is kneeling in front of me. I feel his hands on my shoulders; his soft voice calling to me—calling me back. "It's not your fault, Aida" "Yes it is! I was so mad one day. I was so frustrated. I was all alone—Josh was working from sun-up to sun-down and when he came home he was exhausted. I had no one to help me and I was always so tired, so tired. Gabe would wake up and I would put him on the couch. It wasn't very high up and he would fall off sometimes. I would wake up and he would be there on the floor; just looking around—"God, please kill me. Please kill me now! "He was crying one day. He just wanted me to hold him, to rock him to sleep, but I didn't. I shoved him away—he was just a baby—only eight months old—I told him to shut-up. I said I wish you would just die...And he did. He died. And I had been asleep and when I woke up the next day he was gone...died in his crib...Black fly on his green and white striped pajamas. I didn't even have a chance. It was too late when I got there. Too late and I called 911 and I did CPR, but I knew it was too late, but I still tried and I pinched his little nostrils and a trickle of blood"—I grab my stomach—waves of nausea pummeling me. I needed to stop talking. I needed to stop talking now. Go smoke. Get high. Masturbate. Anything. Godfuckingdamn make it stop! But I keep going...I'm possessed...I can't stop myself and it spews forth from me like rancid bile:

"The paramedics came and they tried, but he was gone and at the hospital—the looks, the stares, the murmurs. Then the police came; put me in the back of the patrol car. Took me to the station and two detectives interviewed me. I was so fucking stupid I thought it was because there was a little pot on the table. I didn't know until a few years later that it was because they thought I killed him. They thought I murdered my son. And they were right. I did kill him. He didn't feel loved. So he just let himself go..." "Aida, your son was born with breathing problems. He was in the Neonatal Unit for more than a week, remember?" "That was my fault too! I couldn't wait. I didn't want to be pregnant anymore. I was so tired of it. So tired. I asked to be induced. They gave me too much anesthesia and I couldn't feel my contractions. I didn't know when to push. He wasn't ready to come out. I forced him. He wasn't ready. But, I just wanted him out of me. I wanted to be light again—myself again" "Aida, look at me. You did not cause your son's death. Do you understand me? You did not cause Gabriel's death. This is essential to your recovery. If you do not face this...if you do not let this go and forgive yourself then you are never going to get better. You are going to stay stuck in that day—reliving it, over and over" "I---I can't" "Yes. You can" "I don't know how" "I will help you" My eyes still closed; I feel his hand reach up and lightly wipe a straggling tear away. I lower my head; ashamed, beyond mortified and thoroughly disgusted with myself for displaying such weakness in front of the doc. I had let him in. I had let him see. No one ever saw. He had seen too much. Far too much. I was drowning again—reaching out for the first life-saver thrown at me. "Do you still think I deserve to get better? Knowing what I did...knowing what sort of person I am? A mother who is cruel to her own child? We are the worst of all...people like me" "What you have done and who you are are two distinctly separate things. You were not a cruel mother. Were there not times where you showed your son love and tenderness? But, you choose not to remember any of those moments because you force yourself to see only the bad—and in so doing—further punish yourself. The black shadows—they are your own creation—they are a manifestation of your sorrow, your guilt; your despair. You control them; they have no power over you and you can destroy them at your will. You must believe this, Aida—or they will always defeat you"

It was half past 1 AM when Dr. Meadows finally left the hospital for the night. His session with Aida, fifteen subsequent patients and piles and piles of paperwork had left him exhausted. He staggers toward his car; thinking only of sleep and that is when he notices Jimmy leaning against the driver's side. He grins when he sees the doc approaching. "Hiya, doc, how 'bout it?" He was tired and not in the mood for Jimmy's charades. "What're you doin' out here? It's late" "You know me. Can't keep me inside" Jimmy lights a cigarette. Squinting against the smoke; he stares at Doctor Meadows. "Want a drag?" "You know I don't smoke" Dr. Meadows starts toward his car, hoping there would be no confrontation and the kid would just move out of the way. But, he doesn't. "You saw Aida today" "Yes, she is my patient" "She likes you. She thinks you're some kinda hero or somethin' 'cause you would rather take less pay and work in this dump than anywhere else that would pay a lot better" "Jim, I'm very tired. I just want to go home and sleep" "Do you like her?" "What?" "Aida. Do you like her?" "She is a patient" "I do. I think I might even love her. I think about her all the time" "Jim, Aida is very ill. The last thing she needs right now is---""I think about being with her...about the way her pussy tastes; how it feels..." "Do you think about that, doc?" "Get out of my way, Jim" But still Jimmy does not move. He stands firmly in place; his face as vacant as the parking lot.

"Or maybe you don't like pussy, huh? Maybe you like cock. My mom liked cock. She started givin' me head when I was about nine; I think 'cause I had had my birthday at the skating rink and Dave Nomes was there and I fucking hated Dave Nomes cause he pissed on my foot in gym and we got in a fight and I remember 'cause Mr. Hews was our coach and that was in fourth grade so yeah, that would make me about nine. So anyway, her favorite thing to do was blow me while some random dude fucked her. Sometimes we'd run a train... If she was on crank...it could last for weeks. Wake up fuckin', go to sleep fuckin'. Hell, I think I even fucked while I was asleep. Needless to say; I garnered quite a bit of experience. Over time; I learned to like it. I mean, do you realize the magnitude of shooting a massive load inside the pussy that was responsible for shitting you into this world? It sort of makes you...god-like in a sense. Anyway, it taught me that all that matters is feeling good—and making others feel good. I like to feel good. I'm gonna make Aida feel real good. You like to feel good, doc? I could make you feel good too..."

Jimmy reaches forward and attempts to grab the doc's crotch, but is greeted by a massive blow to the face instead. Blood begins to trickle down his busted nostrils and into his mouth. Reaching up to feel the wound; the kid begins to laugh hysterically. The sound sends a glacier tingle up the doc's spine. He pulls a small walkie-talkie from behind his back and radios for one of the orderlies. The kid laughs, rocking back on his heels. "C'mon, I didn't mean nothin'. Why'd you have to call the dogs?" Dr. Meadows doesn't answer and as soon as he sees the two orderlies carry Jimmy back inside the hospital; he climbs into his car and squeals out of the parking lot. By the time he arrives back to his apartment he has firmly resolved that in the morning he will call his colleague in Atlanta and arrange to have Jimmy transferred as soon as possible.

"How'd you get that scar on your finger?" I look down at the hardened skin at the top of my pointer. I had forgotten it was even there. "Oh...I don't know if I want to tell you. It's kind of embarrassing" "How'd you get the scar on your finger?" His voice is firm, unyielding and I know he isn't going to let it go until I answer. "You're gonna think it's really retarded, but I was really mad at Josh one day so I wanted to cut. I know it's fucking stupid, but when I could find no other relief---for some reason, the sight of my own blood was very comforting. Anyway, I had no razor or anything and I had cut before using like razor blades, you know, from like a disposable razor—and that had worked rather well. It left perfect, succinct lines across my skin and the blood was immediate—and I didn't have to apply much pressure at all" "Yeah, I know what you're talkin' about. I love those. Straight razor'll work too; a good kitchen knife...one time I think I used a tack, you know, like a tack you stick in the wall? Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt. Keep goin'" He gets up and lights a cigarette. "Well, I couldn't get the blades out—of the disposable razor so I had this Tomahawk from some Native American festival we had went to and so me and my brilliant mind decided to cut the little strip of plastic—where the blades are—with the Tomahawk. And so I ended up nearly chopping the top of my finger off. So...yeah" "Fucking awesome"

"You would say that. But, it was definitely one of the dumbest things I've ever done" "You got what you wanted though" "Yeah, a shitload of unnecessary pain" "All pain is necessary" I clutch my hand against my chest; my finger growing tender at the memory. "But, still, you got what you wanted—blood--release. Maybe not how you thought you would get it—but you still got it, right?" "I don't know. I guess, I mean. It's pretty stupid, really. What kinda person does that? Especially an adult woman. I just wish I could be normal" "You are normal. Us, me and you—we're the normal ones. We see the truth—we were born seeing it—but them—them, they have yet to lose the scales. Some of them never will. So I say fuck 'em. Let 'em kill themselves off—and when they are all gone—it will only be us—the mad—the insane. We. We will inherit the earth" I shake my head, amazed that he genuinely seemed to believe in what he was saying. "Where do you get all this stuff, huh? Are you some kinda Jesus freak?" He laughs. "Freaks all week" "Seriously" "It was revealed to me" "Oh yeah?" "Yes" "How was that?" "In dreams" "What kinda dreams? And, hey, you never told me if you had any scars. I told you about mine" A mischievous smile plays at the corner of his full mouth. "What's your favorite song?" "What? I thought we were talkin abou—" "I know what it is. I hear it in my head" "Huh?" Closing his eyes, he takes a long drag and exhales heavenward. "'Wish you were here'. Pink Floyd, right?"

Now, I knew for a fact I hadn't written anything about my favorite music in my notebook. And I hadn't told Dr. Meadows or any of the other patients. Unless it was in some of my files, but why would it be? That had to be it though. How else could he possibly know? I watch him walk to the far corner of the roof and bend down to retrieve something. He comes back, sporting a black electric guitar. My eyes widen in disbelief. Had he just been hiding a brand new Gibson on the roof this entire time? "Where'd you get a guitar?" "Buddy'a mine. Let me borrow it" "Must be a really good buddy" "Yeah, yeah, he's alright, I guess" "Have you ever listened to 'Purple Rain' by Prince?" "Yeah, I've heard it a couple times" "So you know the end, right? The end has a fucking awesome solo. You want me to play it?" "Alright" He cradles the instrument against his chest and gets himself situated. I pluck the cigarette from between his lips and he begins to play. And he's good. Damn good. His fingers slide up and down the strings with such fluidity—such ease—that it makes me jealous.

"You're really good" He offers an exaggerated appreciative grin, taking the cig from me. "I can play some Floyd for you, if you want" "Okay..." "I don't know the chords" "Me either" "Well sing some of it. I can pick it up" "No way, I can't sing" "C'mon..." "No, I suck. I'm tellin' you" "Aida, you ain't auditioning for no talent show. Just sing the fucking song" So I close my eyes, take a deep breath and open my mouth. It only takes a few lyrics and Jimmy has already picked up the beat. I stop singing, but he urges me to keep going so I do. It was like a private acoustic jam session. I never felt comfortable singing in front of anyone—especially Josh. Just like I never felt comfortable crying in front of anyone—again especially my ex-husband. But, with Jimmy everything seemed so natural; as though nothing I could possibly ever do or say would sway his feelings. I felt free. Free to be myself—wholly—fully. I needed nothing else. This night. This kindred spirit beside me. And the music. That was it. My heart fills to maximum capacity and it's so overwhelming that I have to lie down. Jimmy keeps playing like some distant dream and I swim into the black ocean above me. Cloudless, starless; void of all. Empty. Just like me.

"I can't see you anymore, Jim. The young man feigns sorrow, but the doctor sees through him completely now. All the sessions; all the years of work had been in vain. Jimmy had been one step ahead of him the entire time; moving the chess pieces at his will. He had not gotten any better and he wasn't going to. Dr. Meadows knew this with certainty now and the realization was as much terrifying as it was hopeless. "Why not? Because of the other night? Ahh, you know I didn't mean anything by that. I was just talkin' shit" "No, it's not only that. You have been manipulating me this entire time; leading me to believe you were getting better when you weren't. You're a predator, Jim and Aida is your prey. She's weak right now, vulnerable. I have to look out for the well-being of the other patients" "Predator? Really? Or is it something else? You want me gone so you can have her all to yourself" Dr. Meadows sighs, exasperated and then rises from his desk. Jimmy stays seated; glaring at him from behind those black holes.

"I've arranged to have you transferred to the city. The hospital is bigger; more staff and you will be provided better care" "I like the care I've been gettin' here. I don't want to go somewhere else" "I'm sorry, Jim" "It's because of Aida, isn't?" "I'm not going to discuss it any further, Jim" The kid is silent for a long moment and Dr. Meadows almost lets down his guard. "Well, I'm not goin'. I want you to be my doctor. I'm sorry about the other night. I really am. Please, don't send me away" Dr. Meadows sighs, the boy's pleading expression ripping out his heart strings. But, Jimmy was dangerous; plain and simple. He couldn't be trusted around the other patients and the only option was keeping him in isolation. But, that was no way to live either. The hospital in Atlanta was much better. He could get a treatment there with doctors who specialized in psychopathy. Yes. Doctors who had much more experience than him. "It's already been done, Jim. You'll be transferred before the end of the month"

"Hey, wannabe, you got a letter" I turn to see Davowski leaning against the doorframe of his room. He is holding a small white envelope in his hand. "How'd you get that?" "It was addressed to me" "Um...why?" "'Cause! I'm the one who submitted the shit" "I don't understand. Why is it for me then?" He sighs with exaggerated annoyance. "Just read the goddamn letter" So I take it from his yellowed fingers and ever so slowly, open it.

Dear Miss Meyer,

We are delighted to announce that one of your poems have been chosen and is up for a prize. Third place receives one thousand dollars, second place receives five thousand and first place will be awarded ten thousand dollars. We will send results of the winner in the next few weeks...

I glance up, my face betraying me by breaking into a girlish grin. Davowski waves his hand dismissively, shoving past me outside. I follow after him, tightly folding the letter and shoving it in my pocket as I go. "Did you do this? Did you submit my stuff?" He doesn't answer; only silently puffs his smoke. "I thought you said it was shit" "It is shit! But...there are variations of shit, I suppose" I chuckle, shaking my head. "Well, thank you" "What's with you and the kid?" "What do you mean?" His pale blue eyes narrow to needle point. "Don't act dumb with me, girl. You playin' with fire" "I thought you said Jimmy was okay" "He is okay. Okay for me. Dangerous for you" I scoff. "You could've said that from the get-go" "Shit, how'd I know? If anything I figured you'd go for the doc. Most gals your age do" "I didn't go after anyone. Jimmy's a good friend and it sucks 'cause Dr. Meadows plans to have him transferred" "That might not be a bad idea" "Why?" "Well, the kid's been here for years and hasn't really improved. Naturally, it was only a matter of time until he got shipped off elsewhere—to be somebody else's problem" "No, I don't think the doc would do that. He seems like he really wants to help people" Davowski smudges out his cig, staring up at me from beneath his bushy eyebrows. "Some people can't be helped, girl and they make it their life's mission to keep anybody else from gettin' help. Misery loves company; ever heard that old adage? Well, crazy loves crazy. That's what's happenin' or at least going to happen—with you and the kid. You're just tradin' one addiction for another"

"Why are you here?" He does a double take; the question catching him completely off guard. He had been enjoying the view from atop his high horse. "I'm here, wannabe, 'cause I can't manage by myself. I drink too much, smoke too much and snort too much cocaine. Apparently, I have 'suicidal tendencies', which I suppose makes sense; bein' as though they found me on the Skyway, 'bout to jump off. I don't even recall that, but I'll buy it. So, instead of puttin' me in the clinker; the pencil pushers shoved me in here; with all you maniacs" I sigh, slowly sinking inside myself. Davowski, catching onto my melancholy, offers the only solace he knew. "I'm an old man. I've lived my life; lived enough for ten men. It's been a good life. But you—you are young and the world is literally at your fingertips. Do something with your writing. Even if you don't sell shit. Do it for you. So what you're nuts; the best of us are. Just don't let it be all that you are"

When I got back to my room I found a piece of paper that had been slipped underneath the door. I pick it up and begin to read Jimmy's scribbled cursive.

Dear Aida,

The moon is ready. Meet me on the roof at 3AM.

I clutch the note to my chest; ignoring the stab of despair in my gut. If I didn't meet him what would he do? But what would he do if I did? I considered telling Dr. Meadows, but I didn't want to betray my friend. God, how did I get myself into this mess? I spend the next two hours literally pacing back and forth across the pebbled roof top. I didn't know what to do or if I should do anything at all. God, what sort of macabre experiment was I? A walking invertebrate. I hear the crunching of rocks from behind me and I jump up expecting to see Jimmy. But, it was a woman, just a few years younger than myself. She walks cautiously toward me with her head down and her face concealed by rat-nested black hair. My wild imagination takes hold and for a moment I am fully convinced that I am looking at an apparition. But then she speaks and the terror abates at the sound of her soft voice.

"Are you Aida Meyer?" I slowly nod, unsure if I should do so. Sensing my trepidation she offers a shy smile. "My name is Jayne Moorland. I saw one of your short stories in the penny saver" I nod, thoroughly impressed. "Penny saver? Nice" She nods, nervously twisting the bottom of her gray woolen sweater. "Anyway, I just wanted you to know that it really helped me. I've never known anyone who thought the same things as me or was...sad like me. I've felt so alone all my life and when I read your story that night it made me feel like maybe there's other people like me. Other freaks who aren't really freaks at all" I am so shocked that I stumble backward; my chest suddenly feeling as though some cruel spirit had punched me. I didn't know what to say so I just shrug off the compliment; suddenly feeling rather embarrassed...and unworthy. "I don't mean to be rude, but if it helped you why are you in here?" Her dark eyes narrow to needle point. "I said it helped me. I didn't say it cured me" "Oh!" And I laugh at my own ignorance, which eases the tension between us. "Well, thank you for the kind words. It means more than you could ever know" Jayne smiles, turning to leave. "Keep doing it; who knows what person may stumble upon it right when they need it and it might help them too. Not always, but sometimes; just knowing someone thinks the same things as you and feels the same things is enough to make those dark days a tad more bearable"

The next hour passed as a slug inching across sharpened obsidian. I couldn't even feel my stomach any more. Maybe the organ had finally wised up and leapt from my body without my knowing. Jimmy still wasn't here and I knew he wasn't going to be. I smoke one more cigarette and give him until it's gone. When he still doesn't appear I ignore the voice of reason and obsequiously follow the impulse of my pounding heart. I take the steps two at a time and, making sure the orderlies could not see me; I slip out the backdoor. Darkness surrounded on all sides of me. Businesses, houses, even the purity of nature was blotted out by a mass of impenetrable night. I look up at the starless sky; expecting to see the spinning vortex of a black hole. Its mouth stretched in an eternal death yawn; obliterating all there is or ever would be. The pavement pounds against my feet; although I'm not completely sure if it's my shoes or the thudding muscle inside my chest. How far was it to the zoo? More than a few miles. I hadn't really thought this through. I suppose that was one of the many drawbacks of zero impulse control. But, I keep running and I don't stop. Even when my legs turn to jelly and go completely numb.

Presently, a pair of headlights splay the black asphalt with its pale-yellow glow and I move over to the shoulder. A sleek, blood-red 1950's Chevy Convertible slows and a grizzled head pokes out the window. "Get in, wannabe. Hurry up. The pigs are on our ass!" "Wha?—how?" "Get in goddamnit!" I quickly duck into the passenger seat; looking around. "What's going on, Mr. Davowski? Where'd you get this car? Did you steal it?" He scoffs. "Steal it? Why would I need to steal? I'm a published poet and author, remember? They teach my shit at rich, uppity universities, remember?" "So you are rich" He does not answer. "Are you going to the zoo?" He nods, not taking his steel-blue eyes from the road. "What if Jimmy isn't there?" "He is" "I thought you said he just talked and that he wasn't going to do anything" The old man groans, digging into the pocket of his coffee-stained sweater with one hand and steering with the other. "How did I know? He did just talk; before you showed up that is. You got 'em all flustered, feelin' again. Hopin' again. You don't do that. You can't do that to people like Jimmy. It's like an alcoholic; they can't even have one drink because they'll relapse" I was frustrated and in no mood to search for hidden gems in his words. "So what? What does that mean?" The old man shoves the cig to the side of his wrinkled mouth. "Well, for Jimmy; that one drink was you" I shake my head, slumping back against the leather seat. "No. No, I'm not responsible for Jimmy. I'm not. I can't" "You were responsible for him as soon as he laid eyes on you, Aida" "No! No! No! I'm tired of being blamed for things that I didn't do! People are responsible for themselves. Jimmy is---I can't—I can't save him" "Then why are you in the car right now?"

Davowski parks in a patch of untimbered woods not too far from the zoo entrance. Then, we climb out and slowly, quietly walk the rest of the way. I hold my breath; expecting a SWAT team to suddenly appear from behind one of the azalea bushes. "How are we gonna find him? I mean, we don't even know for sure that he's here" But, wild undulations shatter the silence and a shiver of confirmation tremors up my spine. "C'mon, we can get in through there" The old man hobbles toward a ditch; motioning for me to follow. "What about security? Guards?" "Ain't one. Employees feed the animals real good, make sure they're locked up tight and they go home" He leads me to a small hole above one of the storm drains. It was narrow, but I squeeze through and wait for Davowski. He lingers outside the fence. "I'm too old and fat. You go on. He won't listen to me. He might listen to you" I stand frozen in place; not knowing what to do or say. "Go, girl! What're you waitin' for?" And I take off. I start running without even wanting to. My mind screams for me to turn back, but I don't. I run as fast as my legs will carry me; listening for Jimmy's voice as my guide. The zoo is so dark and so unfamiliar it may as well be a labyrinth and I stumble down dead ends; searching blindly for something I wasn't sure I wanted to find.

"Aida" I spin around to see Jimmy or rather the form of him as his body was completely enshrouded by shadow. Relief floods my chest and I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him firmly against me. I don't let him go until he pulls away. "I waited for you on the roof. I thought you wanted me to meet you" "I knew you would just try to be the voice of reason" I scoff, chuckling despite myself. "Since when am I one to be the voice of reason?" He doesn't answer, but turns his eyes instead to the silk black sheet. I follow his gaze just as the deep midnight blue curtains are drawn to reveal a round, fat moon. I had never seen it appear so close. I felt as though if I stood on tip toe I could reach up and touch it. I turn to look at Jimmy. The luminescent glow caresses his face, filling his black eyes with shimmering flames of silver. And all I could think was one thing so I say it. "You're so beautiful" His eyes cold, empty as the vacuum settle heavy upon me. "Come back with me, Jimmy. Davowski is here. He wants to help. He has a car and money and—" "No, no, no. Shhh" He puts one finger gently against my lips.

"Jimmy...please" He delicately caresses the side of my face. Are you hurt?" He nods, not looking at me. "Where at? C'mon, we can go to the hospital" I reach for his hand and he takes it, clutching it tightly against his chest. "I'm hurt here. Here. Can you fix that?" "Because of me? What did I do? I thought we were friends" "I don't want to be friends!" He screams; causing me to jump with fear. "Jimmy...I thought we were going to let the wolves free. Davowski can help. He has money. It's not just an urban legend; he really is loaded and I think he knows people. Rich people who set up sanctuaries with hundreds and hundreds of acres---"He shakes his head back and forth so hard I fear it is going to break off. "No! Save that patronizing bullshit for the other robots. And anyway, it's too late. It's too late for that. They can't be inside anymore. Just like I can't be inside anymore. So I set them free" The protective ozone is finally gone and the North Pole melts, flooding my gut just like that deluge of old. Drowning; I manage to choke out, "Jimmy, what do you mean you set them free? Is that why there's blood on your hands?" He staggers backward, peeling off his tattered white t shirt and tossing it carelessly into the air.

Riotous laughter erupts from the bowels of his madness and he plucks a cigarette from the front pocket of his faded blue jeans. Taking a few quick puffs; he cocks it to the side of his mouth and walks quickly; much too deliberately toward me. His eyes, as two massive spotlights, scour every square inch of my face. I can even feel his gaze beneath my skin; searing the sensitive tissue beneath. "I never showed you my scars, did I?" I slowly shake my head and he turns round; the moonlight revealing thick jagged lines and little red circles just above his tail bone. Somebody had used him as both a whipping post and a literal ashtray. The image of Jimmy as a little boy flashes across my mind's eye and merges involuntarily to the image of my...son. And I am overcome with such sorrow and despair that my legs buckle from beneath me and I have to bend over, hands on knees and take several deep breaths to prevent from passing out. God, why was I so weak? Why couldn't I be courageous and bold for once in my life? Now. Right now, when it mattered. Jimmy is studying me; those opaque stones deflecting all light. He edges backward, wagging the cigarette at me. "They got to you. I know it. They probably sent you, huh? It's always the ones you love the most that stab you in the back" "Jimmy, no one sent me and I didn't betray you. I just want to help"

"Help? Shit, Aida. You can't even help yourself! I thought you were like me, but you're not. You're just like them" "I am like you and I understand. Maybe the same things didn't happen to us, but it created the same trauma. You need me as much as I need you. Let's just hang out. We can smoke, talk shit, whatever" He shakes his head, pacing up and down in front of me like the great spotted cat a few yards away. "Jimmy, I know I can't make it all go away, but maybe we can just forget about it all for a while...together" I wrap my arms around his trembling frame and hold him; letting all Jimmy's shattered pieces fall into me. His heart thunders inside his chest, synching up with mine and we run together. Unfettered. Boundless. Free. "You gave me a soul, Aida. I don't know if I love you or hate you for that" Suddenly, the shrill droning of police sirens slices through the air; seizing my body with panic. "C'mon, we gotta go" But, he doesn't move.

Dr. Meadows suddenly appears followed by three patrol cars. The headlights seemed to create a divine aura around him. He starts forward, completely oblivious to the circus, but one of the officers roughly shoves him back. "Let me through; I'm his doctor. He's—it's my fault. He wanted to punish me so he stopped taking his meds. Please, you've got to let me go to him" The officers block his path, cruelly ignoring his pleas. Undeterred; the good doc tries desperately to climb over the men. "Jim, Jimmy! It's Doc. I know you're upset about the transfer so I called it off. I've already hired more support staff to offer more individualized treatment. You don't have to go anywhere. It's alright" But the words fall on deaf ears and Jimmy stares blankly, those big opaque windows deflecting all light. The abyss is loath to release him from their shadowed embrace and then I see them; really see them. Little black hooded shadows, circling us in some demonic ring-around-the rosy. They were feeding on him; sucking him dry. Parasites of the soul. Jimmy's voice is a soft whisper, but I could make it out anywhere now. "Do you see them?" "Yes. Tell them to go away, Jimmy" He doesn't speak. He can't. So I do it for him. "Go away! Go away! Go away!" They ignore me. Spoiled, indifferent children. They continue circling; patient, starving. As eager for the kill as the trigger-happy police that inched cautiously toward us. "I'm tired of fighting them Aida. I'm really—I just feel really sleepy and--"His voice trails off and he lay down on the cold ground, hands behind his head and closes his eyes. The officers' move in then and once the men see that there is no threat; they simply pull him to his feet, slap the silver bracelets on and carry him toward one of the patrol cars. I hear one of the cops muttering from behind me and I manage to catch a snippet of conversation. "—Complaints about an old man in a red convertible goin' ninety down 84; with the top down and a bunch of wolves in the passenger seat"

Jimmy was transferred to the unit in Atlanta after he was arrested. I didn't know how long he would be there or if I would ever see him again. I missed him quite a bit; more than I thought I would. Davowski somehow managed to buy the wolves from the zoo and he had a friend from Wyoming come and pick them up. From what I heard they were treated like royalty and fed better than their human caregivers. Heart ache. It manifests in so many ways; some good, others not. Some people can use their anguish to accomplish great feats, but not everyone. Some people can never escape themselves and their demons never go away. Maybe I'm one of those people. One of those condemned to forever haunt the lost but never found, but...I don't think I'm alone. I think there are others out there like me; like Jimmy. My stay at Spring Grove State Hospital was over. After three months I was a free woman. And I had no idea what to do. I stand on the sidewalk, gazing up at the brilliant blue ocean above me. The early morning sun warms my flesh and I am alive. I am still here. "Oh, Aida, this just came in the mail for you. I wanted to get it to you before you left" I look over to see Dr. Meadows holding a small, white envelope. I rip it open and let my eyes skim the words. "What's it say?" I start to speak, but my throat is cotton dry. "It says I won five thousand bucks" Dr. Meadows leans back, thoroughly impressed. "That is outstanding, Aida. Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant"

A shy smile creeps up the side of my mouth and I have to look away to keep from blushing. "So what will you do now?" I shrug. "I don't know. I don't have a plan at all. I don't have a home to go back to. No family" The good doc nods, playing with the change inside his pockets. "Would it—could I—would you like to have dinner with me sometime? I'm sorry. I know it's a bit strange given our relationship. I jus--I would just really like to--to have dinner with you sometime. Do you think that would be alright?" I rock back on my heels; completely obliterated. How could someone as amazing as the doc want anything to do with me? But, those eyes are so genuine. So full of timid hope; guileless. "Yeah, that'd be really cool" He nods, smiling as he turns to head back inside. The bus pulls to a stop in front of me and I climb aboard. I take a seat in the very back next to the window. Everything appears so vivid to me now; the emerald green of the Oak tree leaves; the bold summer sky. The ache was abated; for now. I know it will be back. But, until then I would live deliberately; love despite the fact that it could all be ripped away at a second's notice. I will live and live without fear. I will live.

