Arlene awoke when the toilet gurgled and the shower came on, signalling the hour they could wash in. Too dizzy and sink from fainting and what she had seen, she didn't move a muscle and just whispered 'please', over and over. The girl stayed in place for some time, needing the presence of another. Eventually, she forced herself into movement and shuffled into the bathroom, hoping a shower would help clear her head and calm her. Dyme shifted at the lack of warmth near him, but still slept.
The digital clock read 9:02 and was still quickly ticking down, warning Arlene to hurry if she wanted to be clean. She wanted to spend at least twenty minutes in there, more cleaning her soul than her body, but the water cut out and the gurgling warned her to get out before she got disgusting gunk on her. She didn't leave though, and instead sat locked in the room wrapped in towels and staring into space to think for what felt like hours. The shower burbled out the horrific muck, but it didn't spray out ferociously as it had done before. Eventually, it shut itself off, letting the slime drain-or at least, clog the drain. After a while, she finally pulled on the handle and left the room, sitting on the bed in the towels and once more staring into nothing. She felt dead inside, like she was running on autopilot.
When Dyme awoke he was equally emotionless, sitting up silently and staring down at his hands. His brain had decided that emotion was far too stressful to be healthy and erased feelings, leaving Dyme in a flat calm.
"You're awake," Arlene stated in a quiet voice, not looking at him.
"Yes." Dyme too didn't make eye contact, voice dead and monotonous.
"... what do we do now?"
"I don't know." Definitely not plot any more silly things like resistance.
She nodded, as if that was the correct answer. "We have the day off tomorrow. What would you like to do?"
"I don't know. I guess there are games we can play."
"And we can talk." She sighed and slumped onto her side almost beside him. Dyme stared at the wall in front of him, eyes seeming unfocused and glassy. "I'm scared. Or... I should be. I think I am. I don't know." Dyme just nodded a little, seeming out of it.
"We should get some sleep. We should be well-rested for tomorrow."
"Well rested for what? There's nothing we can do tomorrow."
"We don't know what might happen."
"... Leo said they were looking for me."
Dyme nodded. "Yeah." I hope they find us. Instead of taking the risk of conveying this through words, he merely squeezed Arlene's hand.
"... someone cares about me outside of here..." the way she said it made it sound like she had no idea who that 'someone' was. But the words themselves were enough to make her manage a small smile. "Someone cares about me." Dyme smiled at her, but felt a weight in his chest-he couldn't think of anyone who would care for him outside of here. "That's wonderful..."
" He can't take that away from me, can he?"
"I don't think he can: even if you don't know it, there will be someone above who loves you."
"... thank you." She tiredly hugged him. "I don't think I'd be alive if I was on my own."
Dyme hugged her back and closed his eyes. "Me either..."
"If we get out of this - both of us - I'll see if I can find you somewhere to live. Somewhere better."
The male blinked his eyes open again and looked at Arlene. "...y...you mean that?"
She nodded. "I've never helped anyone in my life because I thought I was the one who needed help. But maybe... maybe I should try. For once."
Dyme was silent for a second when he realized his eyes were wet. "Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you." She didn't reply, and curled up a little more. Then bit her lip. "You're name isn't David... is it?"
"No." Dyme's voice seemed to break. "I don't remember what it is."
"... Do you know mine?"
"I...think it was..." Dyme had to think. "...Lena?'
"... sounds close," She sighed and didn't press further. Instead she got up to get changed again, murmuring, "I'll go to bed soon."
"Me too," Dyme sighed and leaned back, closing his eyes. She returned back in the dress some minutes later, dumping the towels boredly on the floor and getting back on the bed. "Can I sleep next to the wall?" Dyme glanced up and nodded, getting up to let her get to it and moving to sit on the other side of the bed. "I just feel safer being between stuff." she explained needlessly, slipping in and finding a comfy spot to lay, then sighed into the pillow. "... I wish I could remember."
"I understand," Dyme said, swinging his legs onto the bed. "I wish I could too." Arlene sighed as if to thank him, but not having the energy to do so. She lay still a fair while, when suddenly her eyes opened wider.
"... I have an idea."
Dyme looked at her. "What is it?"
She opened her mouth, then froze and glanced around for any cameras or listening devices. She didn't see any but still, she drew up the duvet over them and whispered, barely audible, "Leo was sick... wasn't he? And, Ricky let him out of his room to take him to get some medicine. What if one of us pretended to get sick? We might get a chance to run."
Dyme's eyes widened. "You're right," he near-silently breathed back. However, just as quickly as he seemed taken by the idea, his face fell. "We may be put in the study if we fail...or even killed."
"I'd be willing to risk it. Look, if just one of us makes it out, we could run, we could do something to make people come look here. Anything. We can't both do it, it would look too suspicious. One of us has to go it alone... I... I-i'll do it if you don't want to."
"No. I'll do it." Dyme said, almost inaudibly but firmly. "No offense intended, but I'm more physically suited for it. I may be half-starved, but I've got SOME muscle." He chuckled a little bit. "...but...the problem would be getting people to listen."
"It's only Keith here tomorrow. Ian said it himself. We can do this. You can do this." She gave a hopeful, breathless laugh. "Take something of mine; take something that says you know me. Oh God, what do I have you can take...?" Her face slowly fell. She had been thrown into this mess wearing only a nightie, and had no idea where that had been taken after she had gotten dressed in that room. "... We have to find the room they made us change in. My dress might still be in there."
Dyme nodded a little shakily. "O-okay. I think we're going to need to knock Keith out somehow if he comes to get us, otherwise there's no way I can muscle past him. We'll have to take him by surprise."
"At the very least we'd have to distract him," she agreed, shivering. "Okay... we can do this; it's possible. But we might not ever get a chance like this ever again." She held up her hand for him to take and seal the deal. "We're going to do this. Okay?"
"Okay." He placed his palm against hers, interlocking their fingers. "I won't let us down. I promise."
"And if we fail..." She swallowed and closed her eyes. "... at least we tried. At least we didn't sit and let this happen."
Dyme nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. "Yeah."
"... you're very brave."
He opened his eyes. "...you are too. I'd be scared to death to be left behind here."
"I am scared, but I'd be even more scared if I had to escape." She sighed and glanced aside thoughtfully. "Don't come back, if you manage to get out. Don't get involved even if you manage to find someone to help. Stay as far from here as you can. If you manage to get out, they'll want you dead. If they get their hands on you again, they'll get what they want."
"But..." He bit his lip, looking down. "...all right. For you. I...just won't like sitting on the sidelines, not knowing what's going to happen to you."
"You'd get over it if something did happen to me," she commented quietly.
"No." Dyme said, eyes saddening. "Not like this."
"We don't even know our own names. Let alone each others. You'll forget about me."
"I may not remember your name, but I'll definitely remember you."
"As the bitch who got you into this mess," she whispered sadly, before turning away to face the wall.
Dyme grabbed her arm. "As the girl who saved me. I would have died long ago here if it wasn't for you. And the fault is mine as well."
"How have I saved you? I've never saved anyone in my life."
"You've given me reason to live down here. I probably would've thrown myself into the machines if it wasn't for you."
She just trailed off and muttered thoughtfully, "that might work... didn't think of that..."
"Only do it if no one gets to you," Dyme said, tone urgent and expression pained. "I won't live myself if you've committed suicide right before help got to you."
"And what if help is on the way, but Keith or Ian corners me here?" Dyme shuddered. "I don't know. I just...I've got to save you and the others. I've just got to."
She sighed, then rolled back to face him, hugging. "I hope this works. It has to. I don't think we'll get the chance ever again. God, so scared..."
"Me too. Let's try to get some sleep. We'll need our rest."
"You're right." She let out another sigh and curled up to keep warm, letting her head resurface from the duvet and lay on the pillow. Dyme was quickly asleep, breathing deep and even until the klaxon blared. He started but then groaned, covering his ears. A sheer, cold sweat had broken out over his body and he looked sickly and tired. The bed strangely warm, Arlene bolted up in a surprised jolt at the sound then groaned with him, a hand fumbling on him blindly. When she finished the initial waking up, she gazed at him, then whispered, "... you're either a great actor... or you're genuinely sick..."
Dyme just weakly looked up at her, but the eye half-hidden due to the mattress winked. He'd somehow been able to mimic the symptoms of illness after being sick so, SO many times in his life...he gave a cough, sounding as though his throat was filled with gunk. She caught the wink, but only just. Amazed at his performance, Arlene tried to give him the briefest smile of gratitude and encouragement before saying louder, "Oh... oh you really are sick, aren't you?" and sat up to pull him into a cuddle: silently squeezing him to tell him 'good luck'.
Dyme gently squeezed her back, still groaning. "Gotta get up...Dad'll be so disappointed if I don't..."
"But Dad's not here today," she feigned concern, as if they were suddenly without options. She looked around helplessly, hoping any cameras that might be there would catch her movements. "Come on, brother, I think you should rest before you get any worse."
"No," Dyme moaned, pulling away. "I have to...to..." He stood, swaying for a moment before crumpling silently.
"Ah!" She sank to kneel beside him, shaking him gently. "Please get up! Please! Someone come help! He's fallen! Please!"
A matter of minutes later, there came heavy footsteps, fast and purposeful. Mutterings dark and grumpy came before the door was unlocked and Keith strode in, snapping, "what's the commotion, twerp?" Dyme feebly stirred, eyes unfocused. Without another word, he shakily stood up, lurched to the scummy toilet, and vomited almost spectacularly into it. "Ah Christ, why'd this have to happen when I'm going solo!" the man growled moodily, striding after and keeping an eye on Dyme. Arlene blinked, noticing Keith had left the door wide open, and left her unattended... No: she couldn't. It would deviate from the plan.
There was a sudden scuffle, muffled yells, bangs, a thud, and gurgling. Arlene jumped, frightened at the sounds and unsure whether to go see. Dyme dragged an unconscious Keith out of the bathroom, looking shocked. "...can't believe I just did that..." A broken-off showerhead was rolling around in the bathroom. "He's going to be out for a while..." He gestured to the large, bloody lump on the man's head. "This means we can both go."
Arlene pulled herself together and hissed, "move." Yanking him along out of the room, she gathered her bearings and chanted a brief, "oh my God, oh my God, oh my God," before recalling that strange room with the clothes was upstairs. Taking him that way, she tried every door until she found the room, then tore away from him to start searching for her dress.
Dyme was fuelled on pure adrenaline, sorting through everything, corpses, clothes, etcetera. "I've got it!" He whisper-cried, holding up the sad-looking, filthy garment. Arlene was panting now, on pure fright and excitement. Racing over, she looked it over then satisfied it was indeed hers, she took his arm again and rushed them both down the stairs. "We have to find that ash room, we have to!" But she had no idea where to look for that, and panic set in again.
"We'll get there," Dyme snarled. "We'll get out of here, damn it!"
A bullet spat sharply into the wall between them and Arlene instinctively flinched, shrieking. Keith was pulling himself out of their room, hardly able to lift the arm with his gun, let alone aim. Just as he forced himself to gaze at them, his body collapsed again and he crashed out to the floor. Shaking and knowing that had bought them more time, the girl once again began to drag him down the corridor, checking every door and giving increasingly terrified sobs as each was locked or led to nowhere. Dyme was hyperventilating now when an idea struck him. Twisting his arm away from Arlene's, he darted down the hallway at top speed to retrieve Keith's gun, then ran back. "Have to have something," he said, shaking in sheer terror.
Arlene couldn't have cared less if Dyme had found a bazooka, she was too busy chanting 'oh my god' over and over in whispered hysteria as each door came up useless. Finally, she found a door that led to another corridor of doors and tried all those. The penultimate one clicked open, into a room that stank of ash. "I think I've found it... oh God, oh God..."
"Let's go!" Dyme cried, wasting no time in dragging her into it. Arlene was wary about going into the dark unknown but with little choice she was taken in and instantly began patting the walls, gasping in panic as each second seemed like another drop of ink on her death warrant. "I can't find it!"
Dyme was wheezing, noises getting closer and closer to sobs as he felt all over the walls. "No...no no no oh god no please no no no no..."
There came a loud clang as the door was shut behind them without warning. The whole room was plunged into complete blackness, making Arlene gasp, when a hand came over her mouth and she felt a gun sticking into her neck.
Little did their attacker know that the darkness had given Dyme cover. There was a sudden bang and the gun fell from her neck. "Little shit... you just used your last bullet," Keith's voice hissed, still having hold of Arlene, who was shaking from the close blast near her ear. He shuffled back with her to retrieve his gun. "Shit... I'm pissed. I am pissed, you little sack of shit... Jesus..." Obviously his head was still giving him pain, but his anger was more the problem here. "You want out? You want out of here? Fine. Lemme offer you the door. See you in Hell." He shot, though couldn't see so well in the pitch black and could only go by sound, shooting in the vague direction of the breathing. Arlene elbowed him in the stomach, and the shot missed, but he forced her down to the floor and forced the gun into her mouth as she tried kicking and screaming. "Either of you move, I blow her fucking brains apart, I swear to God."
Dyme froze completely, not even shaking. This is the end. This is the end. We're going to die miserably. We're going to die...we're not going to make it...God help us...anything...PLEASE... He squeezed his eyes shut and tears dropped silently into the thick ash, cleaning tracks on his face. Arlene was trying to beg out loud, muffled around the barrel of the gun and tearful. Keith carefully got back to his feet and took her with him, still at gunpoint. He opened the door, and in the light that flooded in, smirked at the mortified Dyme.
"You can stay here and imagine all the things I'm about to do to her. Then I'll come for you."
Arlene burst into tears but managed to meet Dyme's gaze and psychically willed him to use this time to keep searching for the way out, before the door was slammed shut and locked, sealing him in pitch black.
Dyme threw himself against the shutting door, screaming as he smashed repeatedly into it. "No! No! NO!" He beat against it for a moment more before digging through the ash, sobbing. He gasped when he felt something and began to scrabble at it-yes-yes! It was the door! He tried to pry it open and found he couldn't. With a yell of determination, he began kicking at it, pulling at it, trying to loosen it up...
Bright, bright light streamed through. He flinched for half a second before running out, adrenaline flooding his veins. Time seemed to be going so slowly...he was in sunlight, cold air, but hot sunlight, near-blinded but still finding his way...there was the van, but surely he wouldn't be able to drive it, he hadn't the key...he kicked out the windows and windshield anyways, glass cutting his sides...he began digging through the glovebox and-his eyes widened-was that really a spare key? He dug it into the ignition and turned it-the van started-and before he knew it, he was driving recklessly off in the opposite direction of that horrible place, nearly tipping the van as he tried to drive straight.
They had been taken into countryside. Barren wilderness went on for a long time, before pleasant green fields overtook them, with cows grazing. A farm and a small cluster of houses appeared on the horizon, about ten miles from the 'harmless little shack' that hid the horrors within. Dyme stomped on the gas, going at worrying speeds towards the houses. He was beginning to pant again, eyes wide and deranged with desperation. When he reached it, he swerved to a stop, gasping as the van tipped on its side, but quickly climbing out, slicing his fingers to ribbons on the glass. He fell out painfully, landing on more broken glass when he began to run to the nearest house, banging nonstop on the door and screaming for help.
It took a lot of persuading, convincing, lie tests, accusations, shouting, distrusting and general commotion over the period of a day and a bit, before Dyme was pushed into the back of a police car and told to give exact directions to the place, and describe the interior on the drive up there. Dyme's memory was as if photographic, despite the gaps in it before. He relayed the directions and descriptions back to the policemen in a heartbeat, trying to convey that he needed to get back there or his dear friend and other children would die, WHY DON'T THEY UNDERSTAND THAT?
The desperation inside him was soon to worsen though. When they arrived, the shack was on fire. Fresh tire tracks were ground from outside it and off East.
Dyme turned sheet white as he looked at it. "No..." he said in a shaking whisper, beginning to breathe quickly. "No, no, no, no, no, no, NO!" His voice rose to a scream as he tried to wrest a gun from a police officer, wanting to end his life, end everything, he would not live with this, he deserved to die, he needed to die! He was unaware that he was screaming all of this, eventually reduced to curling up in a ball and clutching his head, weeping. The policeman yanked him away and took him by the wrists and began talking to him in a forceful but controlled tone, telling him he needed to calm down, and that there were many possibilities that this could still be resolved, and that if he didn't calm down, he would resort to self defense.
"They're going to die," Dyme simply moaned, simply shaking his head but not resisting otherwise. "They're all going to die, and it's all my fault."
"They might have escaped, they might have been taken with them, they might still be okay in there. Now if you don't mind, son, sit the hell down and leave this to the law." That said, the officer muttered into his walkie talkie for a comrade to call the fire brigade, whilst another officer called for special riot police to attend the scene ready to break in.
Dyme silently obliged, trembling from head to toe. He was unaware of how insane he looked-covered in filth, still deathly thin, pale, crying, hair greying from stress. His head shot up as he remembered something. "Her name was Arlene." He breathed. "You were looking for her. Arlene."
The cop paused in mid transmission, flicking his eyes onto the youth. "... hold up Sarge." He crouched down, putting down the walkie talkie. "Say that again."
"Her name is Arlene," Dyme spoke up more loudly. "I know that you were looking for her...I-I don't know her last name but she comes from a wealthy family, daughter of a businessman."
"Describe her."
"Short, petite, blonde hair, greenish eyes, a little younger'n me."
The man instantly straightened back up and began saying a lot of code words loudly in urgency and sudden seriousness. The other officer overheard and rubbed a hand down his face, swearing tiredly.
"Please...you have to save her...s-she c-can't die..."
The police ignored him and kept on sending out messages, then had a chat with each other, seemingly forgetting the burning building in front of them. A fire engine eventually pulled up along with a couple more police cars, whilst another squad car followed the tracks that led away. As the blaze was finally tackled, it was easily put out, but the police hung back and let the firemen handle it.
"I-is there any chance anyone is inside?" Dyme whimpered, hoping someone would hear him.
He was ignored, everyone rushing around, seemingly forgetting he was even there. After ten minutes of pauses, shouts at each other and then panicked radio calls, the firemen returned... with the first limp, charred, fleshless corpse. It was impossible to tell who it was. Dyme gave a whimpering squeak of horror and hid his head in his hands. "A-arlene," he sobbed, rocking back and forth.
Twenty minutes passed by before the next body was lifted out - this one definitely one of the boys - and Ricky was dragged out, coughing and ash-faced. He was screaming and sobbing hysterically. His feet had been sawn off.
Dyme looked up sharply, face white. "Ricky," he breathed. "Ricky!" He stood up to run to him, struggling violently when an officer held him back. Another officer saw this and took off his hat, whispering, "Jesus fucking Christ..."
As Ricky was laid down and the police did all they could for him until the ambulance arrived, firemen came back and called they couldn't find anything else. However, one of the policeman's dogs was barking at the remains and the trainer agreed to go in with the firemen to sniff about. After an agonising half hour, they emerged, Arlene knocked out and scorched, laying limp in a pair of arms.
"Arlene! ARLENE!" Dyme screamed far more loudly than before, twisting violently to free himself from the officer as he stumbled over to her. "Wake up, wake up, you can't die, y-you c-can't leave me!" he sobbed, falling to his knees and pulling at his own hair. "C-can't leave me!" He was plucked up and dragged back from her, told sharply to stay clear. Another officer quietly approached and told the restraining officer to drive Dyme back to the station to calm down. The fireman holding Arlene, meanwhile, laid her down a little ways from Ricky, and began performing CPR, talking to her in an encouraging but urgent hush to try and coax her back into breathing.
Dyme didn't even struggle as he was loaded into a police car, clawing at his arms hard enough to draw blood as he wept. "My...fault...my...doing...should...die..."
They kept Dyme at the police station for further questioning, now as a witness rather than a suspect and/or suspicious party. Once they gleaned all they could from him, their time was mostly taken up with trying to track down Ian: Keith had been found strapped to the 'study' chair, overdosed on Ian's now apparently poisonous toxin.
Files showed Ian had been admitted into school counselling from the age of ten, displaying an odd obsession for 'guarding' younger children. Further digging found Ricky (real name Harry) disappeared at the age of seven, seven years later, where Ian was preparing for medical school. Keith (real name Samuel) had disappeared a couple of days after Ricky. Both 'Ricky' and 'Keith' had been homeless orphans.
More and more files were dug up, each from the 'missing persons' division, each describing a young homeless person with little or no family, loving or otherwise, being last seen talking, walking or in the same area as 'a white male, about 5'8, driving a van'. A manhunt went underway. Ian was never found.
One day, an officer came in to talk to Dyme, very tired from all the paperwork this mess had cropped up.
Dyme was staring blankly down at the floor, hands resting limply in his lap. His mouth was slightly open, breathing quietly. He had been cleaned-all the ash and blood was washed off of him, and his hair was no longer tangled, though it was still quite long. It obscured his face and dead blue eyes-it was almost disturbing. He didn't look up when the officer came in, hands twitching slightly.
"What do you want?" His voice was a breathy whisper, spent from crying and screaming.
"I've come to take you to the hospital..." The officer swallowed and put a hand on Dyme's shoulder. "There's... been some bad news. About your friend."
Dyme looked up, hair sliding out of his face.
"Arlene? Or Ricky?"
"..." he nervously bit his lip. "... I'll explain on the way. Come on."
Dyme rose from the chair, face expressionless as he followed the officer out. He was simply too exhausted to panic or feel upset at this point.
Letting him ride shotgun in the squad car, the officer calmly turned on the sirens for the sake of getting there quickly. As traffic moved aside, he began in a quiet way, "Arlene needs a heart transplant. Not only is it a serious and risky operation with a large chance of failure... but... Ricky is the one offering up his for her. Do you... understand the complications this might bring if the operation fails?"
Dyme stared dead ahead, nodding weakly. "What if it goes right? What happens to Ricky?"
"... Arlene's parents are filthy rich. They can afford the best doctors there are. But... even the best doctors can't keep a donor alive after a heart transplant." They were already at the hospital, parking up. Before getting out, the officer turned to Dyme, and murmured, "he... he requested for you specifically to come see him now."
Dyme's eyes widened a little and his stomach gave a lurch. "...okay..."
"Kid..." His hand rested on Dyme's arm. "... it's his choice. I know it's gotta be hard on you... but this is what he wants. Be happy for him."
Dyme nodded numbly. "Okay" was all he could manage as he turned and stepped out of the car, feeling sick and jelly-legged.
The officer led him through the hospital to Ricky's room. It was a quiet ward, seperate from the other beds. The ultimate 'waiting' room, where the terminally ill and the donors who would not see the end of the day were kept in the peace with a lovely view of some park outside several floors down.
As they entered, Ricky looked over tiredly and smiled. The officer backed off for some privacy, but stayed just outside the door. The patient opened his arms in want of a hug.
Dyme nearly ran over and collapsed into his arms, but instead walked quickly and gently hugged Ricky, crying into his shoulder.
"I'm s-sorry...I'm s-so sorry...th-this is all my f-fault..."
Ricky was weak and shaky, but managed to pull the boy up onto the bed and stroked his back. "It's not your fault, David."
"Y-yes it is," he cried. "I-I p-plotted this, I p-practically..." He was unable to finish his sentence as he cried, trying not to hurt Ricky yet holding onto him as if for dear life.
"... I'd never seen Dad so angry," Ricky admitted guiltily. "It's not like him to take Keith to the study."
Hatred rose in Dyme like a snake at the mention of his name, but he did not show it. "I've d-destroyed your family..."
"No, David. I did. I was the one who broke the machine. I remember now. I should have said something, but I felt funny and didn't remember it was me. But I'm going to make it all better, and make sure Emily is okay." Dyme's eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he squeezed them tightly shut. He wanted so badly to tell him that her name was not Emily, it was Arlene, and would always be Arlene. "I tried to help her before. Me and Dad came home and found her with Keith. Dad exploded and knocked Keith out to stop him. He didn't want me touching her though, or running to check on Leo and James. I tried to say sorry, and explain I just wanted to check on them, but Dad got angry and... I remember feeling my feet. But I can't feel them anymore." Dyme didn't know whether to tell him or not, so he just remained silent, hugging Ricky. Ricky cuddled him back and rocked him much like he had done for Leo that time. "I'm worried Dad will be angry I've gone to long... you will tell him what I decided to do, won't you? I'm doing this for Emily. She's been so unhappy."
"O-of course...he'll understand..."
Ricky smiled, as if a great weight was off his mind, and he sank back into his pillows, holding Dyme's hands. "You're an awesome little brother."
"H-heh, you're an awesome big one..." Dyme squeezed Ricky's hands.
A tear actually appeared in Ricky's eye. He smiled as if his heart was breaking in two simply from bursting. "... you're the first one... the first one out of all of my brothers and sisters... they all pushed me and told me to keep away... they thought I wanted to hurt them... Or they got scared. But you..." He actually sobbed in delight.
Dyme began to cry too, though his heart was breaking from sorrow. "Y-you're wonderful, R-ricky..."
The man choked on a sob and wrapped his arms back around Dyme, squeezing him tightly. Dyme was crying into his shoulder. "G-gonna miss you..."
"Tell Emily I love her. I love her with all my heart, and I'll prove it to her with this operation."
"I-I will," he gasped out, nodding and shaking.
Ricky smiled and kissed his cheek briefly in the hug, stroking his hair before sniffing and pulling back, wiping his eyes. "... you should go see her... I'll be alright. Go on, be quick... y-you... don't have long until they put her under. She's three doors down. The Hermes Ward."
"K-kay..." Dyme bit his lip, hugging Ricky tightly before almost running out of the room, crying openly the minute he exited it. Ricky watched him sadly, but still with a smile, and rubbing at his eyes again, he went back to gazing dreamily into the clouds and watching birds sail by as the last precious moments ticked by.
Not bothering to talk to the officer, Dyme began panickedly searching for the Hermes ward. When he found it, he almost burst in, but kept it quiet so as not to disturb her. "A...Arlene?
It may have been called a 'ward' but it was only one bed. The joys of being filthy rich. The girl was alone, surrounded by flowers, untouched chocolates, unwrapped presents, and untouched food. She blinked groggily but upon finally spotting him through the haze she lifted her arms for him and cried, "Dyme...!"
He nearly collapsed as the force of his real name hit him and he ran over to her, hugging her tightly. "A-arlene..."
She groaned, on some kind of pain relief, judging by the IV in her hand, but she hugged him back as much as she could and whispered, "you're alive... they wouldn't tell me about you, they told me to stop thinking about you; said you weren't important."
Dyme felt his heart clench painfully. "Who?"
"When my parents visited. They said to forget it, you weren't important, you were no one. They wouldn't listen, Dyme! They didn't come back after that, said they were too busy with business, and only Ricky's been visiting, but now he's going to die for me and I might die too and I just need someone to hold me and tell me it'll all be alright!" She was sobbing again.
Dyme felt a small thrill of anger. "They won't visit their own..." He shook his head, anger filled by anguish. He hugged Arlene tightly, rocking her just a bit. "It's going to be okay, Arlene: it really will."
"I th-thought I'd never see anyone ever again, I thought you had died or something and I never got to thank you, and I keep having nightmares that won't go away, even when I'm awake, and I'm so s-scared!"
"I thought I wouldn't see you again either," Dyme whispered, eyes frosted with tears. "But it's going to be all right...we'll see each other again, even if it's not as soon as we'd like."
"Th-there's a 40% chance I'll die." She pushed her head into his neck, clinging. "I don't want to die! Not after all we escaped."
Dyme held her close. "I don't want you to die either...b-but hey, there's a 60% chance you'll live, right?" He smiled weakly.
"R-rather it was 100%."
"I do too, but we've gotta work with what we got." He gently rubbed her back, trying to comfort her. "We made it out of there, we'll make it out of here. Together."
"S...s-seems crazy..." she managed the weakest, most terrified laugh she could. Breathless and quiet. Shaking. "A-all because Mom and Dad were a-annoyed I'd gone out without p-permission to get myself some s-shoes... and it e-ends here."
Dyme felt more anger towards her parents. "I almost wish we could run away - the both of us - and find somewhere better."
"So do I," she sniffed, then whispered in a trembling voice, "I have my own bank account. I can get us anywhere on the planet."
"We...we may have to wait until you're old enough to live on your own...but then we'll do it. We'll do it, and they won't be able to keep us apart."
"Yeah... sounds nice." She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on his shoulder, trying to calm down. She didn't help herself by mumbling, "gotta live to see the sunrise first..."
Dyme shushed her gently. "You'll make it there."
"C... could you walk with me when they come to take me? A-and... will you wait until its over?" Dyme swallowed but nodded.
"Yes. I'll be at your side the whole time." Something clicked in his brain. He remembered the song he would always sing to help his brother sleep...
"I met a girl on Halloween
Well she was lost, and I was drunk
And it was dark and cold out when we left..."
"... what're you doing...?" she almost laughed, but smiled gently as she whispered the question, not wanting to interrupt him, and somewhat grateful.
"And as we walked, the rained started
The leaves softened with every step
And all around us people slept
Alone with their dreams..."
There came the un-intrusive trundle of a wheelchair, the door opening. A new voice came in, sheepish.
"The wind came down from up the plains,
and blew the leaves all through the streets..."
Ricky had rolled to the doorway, and was smiling, shyly joining in, making Arlene look up and get tearful again. Tears trickled down Dyme's face, but he continued singing, voice trembling slightly.
"I wondered how far leaves could really fly..."
Ricky didn't know the rest, but he didn't mind just humming gently, rolling into the room, taking his little life-on-wheels with him in a squeaky rumble, before achingly sitting by the bed and hugging them both. Dyme hugged him back, voice fighting not to break as he sang.
"W-would they rest in suburb yards?
Or make it t-to the city? Or,
Would they end up in the river just to float away?"
Arlene pushed head head to nuzzle between them, shaking. Dyme continued with his song, crying openly now as he hugged them both tightly.
A doctor and a team of nurses hung around outside the door. One of the nurses was muttering a prayer for them as they shared a solemn respect for their privacy. But they couldn't hold off any longer. There was a knock at the door. The doctor entered.
"It's time to say goodbye..."
"I have to be with her," Dyme said, looking almost frightened at the sight of the doctors. "Please...I can't not be there." Arlene trembled, turned pale and clutched him.
"You are free to stay, but I'm sorry to say you must wait in the general waiting room: only family are allowed to view the surgery, and even then, from behind glass."
Ricky looked strangely calm as a nurse helped him get comfortable, but he paused, then turned back to the two teenagers, kissing them both and giving them a tight hug. "Love you... I'll think of you always."
"I'll never forget you," Dyme whimpered before hugging Arlene tightly. There wasn't much he could do from this point... "I'll be waiting. I promise."
"Please..." Arlene whispered desperately. "Please do. I-i'm sure Ricky w-will wait as well i-if that's what happens... but... but I want someone this side too, t-to... to save me." The doctor pulled Dyme gently off the bed, making Arlene tremble and breathe, "Oh God," in fright before putting her head in her hands as her bed was moved out of the room.
Dyme let out a weak sob, reaching out for her as he was led out of the room, completely breaking down the moment he was outside it. The nurse who had taken him away gave him a brief impersonal cuddle then kept her hands on his shoulders as Ricky was put back in his bed and rolled along behind Arlene's bed. They were already applying the gas to knock them out. Dyme said nothing and merely hid his face in his hands, bony shoulder shaking as he cried. He couldn't seem to form a coherent thought, let alone coherent words. The nurse led him after a little ways, but then took him down a seperate hall and put him in a chair around the corner and two double doors away from the operating theatre.
The dull clock ticked endlessly, the smallest hand crawling from the 10, to the 11, to the twelve, then the 1, 2 and 3, before the operation ended and bloodied gloves were thrown tiredly into the sink. Dyme was staring unblinkingly down at his feet, hands clutching tighter and tighter at his hair as the minutes passed until it was almost unbearable, but unbearable was good, he could no longer feel the worry and only worry...his breaths were deliberately slow and even but they shook.
A trolley was approaching through the doors from the direction of the theatre, and pushed into his corridor passing slowly. It was a pale nurse pushing a trolley-load of Arlene possessions, and a heavily noted clipboard.
Dyme got to his feet at a frightening speed, staring intensely at the nurse before running back to Arlene's ward, already finding it hard to breathe.
Her room had been cleared out. Not a speck of dust, no shred of human life there. Just sterile, clean and empty, with a shaft of sunlight pouring in.
Dyme sunk to his knees, shaking heavily. He began to hyperventilate, nails digging into his scalp. Unbridled rage and anguish crashed through him. How could they do this? Throw her away like trash?
"Excuse me, what in blazes are you doing in here?" an annoyed male voice came from the doorway. Dyme was on his feet in a heartbeat, looking absolutely livid as he rounded on the man. It was a young doctor, who instantly shrank back at the expression on the teen's face. "C-can I help you?"
"The girl in here," he snarled, voice shaking in rage. "Do you know what happened to her? Has she been moved? Or is she dead?" His voice cracked slightly at the last word.
The doctor grimaced and in a strangled voice, explained, "I'm new here..."
Dyme instantly brushed past him, resisting the urge to bump hard into him. He felt sick and dizzy with emotion, stumbling like a drunk. The trolley with her things was still moving down the hall he had left, just about to round a corner.
"Hey! Hey!" He ran up and gripped the nurse's shoulder hard, shaking. "Is she being moved? Or is she dead?"
The nurse was surprisingly frightened by the sudden contact and another rushed over to move Dyme away from her. However the nurse started to cry, and walked off briskly, hand over her face, abandoning the trolley. And something about the way she did it made it clear it wasn't from Dyme's 'scary' behaviour. Dyme's hand fell limply by his side as he collapsed to his knees. "No...no no no no...s-she c-can't...c-can't leave me..."
The remaining nurse crouched and tried pulling him back onto his feet. "Come on, boy, not here. This is not the place to make a scene, come along now, I'm sure I can find you somewhere quiet to sit and get it out..." She was babbling as if this was just any other day on the ward. Which it was, for her.
Dyme wrenched his arm away from her, looking livid again. "Do. Not. Touch. Me." he hissed, breathing heavily. "Don't you fucking come near me." He began to back away, eventually turning and flat-out running, shoving past people, running past the officer, trying to get out of the hospital so he could throw himself into traffic and never have to have the pain of living again.
As he fled through one hall, a voice rang out. "She's alive, you know."
Dyme came to a halt, turning to the voice. "...what?"
The security guard that had spoke to them all those nights ago was sat casually on a chair, seemingly unsurprised by Dyme's appearance.
"...why...why didn't they tell me?"
The guard groaned as he got off the chair and strolled over, clapping a hand on his shoulder and starting to guide Dyme back the way he'd come. "I'm not sure what you're on about. But the young Miss had a feeling if you showed up in time to see her off, you would try to bolt out and do something stupid out of blind panic. So, she made arrangements to have me stand guard here, in case you showed up looking in a hurry to do something you'd regret. I was given bribed privileges to be told via walkie talkie DIRECTLY seconds after the operation to know whether it was a success or not. As for why no one told you, maybe you just weren't asking the right people or were asking the right people in the wrong way."
"But...but..." Dyme's voice was weak and trembling, as were his knees. "...sh-shit..."
"You may not see her today. She will be very weak. And in need of rest. She's not entirely out of the woods yet. But the operation was successful: it's all a matter of adjustment. And I have a good feeling with the odds of her dying now being 0.08%." He managed a chuckle and guided Dyme to a ward, but didn't open the door, and instead hoisted him up a little to see through the small window. Arlene lay, still with the mask over her mouth, and hooked up to all kind of machinery. But she had a pulse, and the doctors were making notes on her progress. She was being cared for.
"Happy?"
"...yes." Dyme nearly completely lost it again, tears of relief falling down his face. "Yes."
"You know, I've known her since she was ten, when her father first started using those apartments for his business trips. And in those four-five years I've known her, I never expected her to allow this, but..." He sighed and turned Dyme to face the door directly opposite. "She made arrangements for the hospital to lend you a room to stay in throughout her stay. I quote, 'if that boy shows up, he'd better be there if I get out of my operation... or I am going to hunt him down and strangle him.'" A pause, then a laugh. "I don't envy you, kid."
Dyme weakly began to laugh, still crying and trembling in relief. "I-I thought...d-damn..."
"Yeeeeeeaaah, she's always been a little drama queen... even when she's not actually conscious. Heh. Women."
"Sh-she was a real drama queen when we met," Dyme said, still laughing a bit. "...though...I instigated..." He smiled guiltily.
"To her mind, everyone instigated." He opened the door and put Dyme in his temporary room. It was plain; bed, shelves with a single small teddy sat in the corner, window with a view of the city, and a toy box. "Eh heh, sorry: this was the only room the hospital could spare. S'usually for children sick with contagious diseases. But don't worry, it's been thoroughly cleaned out."
"S'alright." He sat down on the bed, feeling something akin to anxiety, but he didn't know why.
"She also allowed me an $1000 budget to spent on your stay here. So if you want something to spruce up the room, you got it. Her orders."
Dyme smiled faintly. "Alright" He still felt nervous. It was as if this room reminded him of something.
The guard wasn't to know, and awkwardly swung his arms looking for something else to talk about. "I... uh... have a funeral to arrange now. She wanted that donor guy to have a proper burial... gotta chat with the morgue. So... uh... yeah. You have fun." He shuffled out, giving a small salute.
"...Ricky..." Dyme murmured, feeling the weight that had been lifted from his shoulders settle down again. "...thank you..."
"No sweat, kiddo."
The man was gone, leaving Dyme to his thoughts. It was then, with an unpleasant lurch, Dyme realized what this reminded him of - the childish atmosphere brought back the wretched days in that room. He put his head in his hands, taking a deep breath in to calm himself. He knew he was not there. Arlene was okay. He was okay. Keith and Ian were gone, gone, gone...
Early the next morning, there was a knock on his door. Dyme had awoken a long time ago and he looked over at the door. "Come in..."
The doctor that had been there to take Arlene away yesterday opened the door and stood in the frame. "She's stable. You may see her." Dyme quietly slid off the bed, looking far more tranquil than the day before.
"Thank you."
The doctor nodded and held open both the doors for him, murmuring, "she's still asleep, and still weak. Try not to do anything that will startle or disturb her."
Dyme nodded. "Okay." He silently walked through the doors, realizing he didn't know where she was being held.
On the lonely bed in the room beyond, she lay still unmoving, but the machine at her bed was happily beeping her pulse. She looked tired, but there was colour in her cheeks and she was breathing without the mask now. Dyme eventually found his way to her, almost nervously stepping into her room. "Hi," he said very softly.
She didn't respond, but an empty chair was waiting at her bedside. Dyme silently walked over to it and sat in it, wanting to take her hand but worried he'd disturb her. So, he settled for simply watching her, until he drifted off into sleep once more.
"... D...y..."
Dyme's eyes instantly opened, his head jerking up with an audible and painful crick. Was he hearing things? The little whisper came again, quieter. Arlene's fingers twitched in weak desperation. Dyme's hand was instantly in hers. "Right here," he whispered.
She could scarcely hold her eyes open half-way for more than two seconds before the effort became too much. She couldn't even squeeze his hand back in return. "... stay..."
"I will," Dyme vowed, still clutching her hand.
With that, she smiled and lost consciousness again, not retrieving it until later that afternoon. She was stronger this time, and got his attention by squeezing his hand. Dyme had been awake this entire time and nearly jumped in surprise when she squeezed his hand. However, he squeezed it back quickly. "Right here." She opened her eyes, looking tired still, but not on the verge of fainting again.
"... I'm alive."
"Just barely." He smiled at her, but quickly pouted. "I nearly had a heart attack."
"That'd make two of us..." she joked in a gentle rasp, smiling tiredly and rolling her head a small ways to gaze at him. He smiled down at her squeezing her hand.
"...you know...for a moment...I'd...I'd really thought you were..."
"S'like you said... made it through that Hell... can make it through 'nythin'..."
"Wish I'd known you'd made it through before I swore at a nurse," Dyme admitted with a nervous laugh, blushing. She managed a laugh but groaned in pain and settled down again, stroking her thumb on his knuckles. Then she suddenly looked sad.
"... Ricky's gone... isn't he?"
Dyme's eyes grew wet. "Y-yeah," he whispered, looking down.
"... he held my hand before I passed out..." she frowned a little, trying to remember. "They told me to count down from ten... and he was there at seven. And he smiled. Then five came and it all went away..."
"He died...so happy," Dyme bit his lip. "H-he was crying when I left him to see you, but because he was happy that we loved him and that he would die this way."
"... it shouldn't have been him..." However, Arlene weakly looked down at her chest and closed her eyes, crying a little quietly. She took Dyme's hand and put his and hers over her chest. Dyme put a hand over his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut. "...maybe it was better it was him. What kind of life would he lived after this?"
"He... he could have been our guardian."
Dyme's stomach lurched at this thought. He bit his lip. "But he was still very devoted to..." He didn't even want to substitute Ian's name with 'him.'
"... it would've been nice though... don't you think?" Arlene managed a smile, but shivered and grimaced in discomfort. "Sorry... hurts a little..."
"Yeah..." Dyme smiled a bit as well, but frowned at the shiver. "Don't be sorry: you've been through a lot." A sudden thought struck him and he paled. "...d...d'you think we'll need 'counseling'? After this?"
"God knows... I don't care..."
"I'm just worried they'll keep us apart." Dyme bit his lip again, stroking her hair. "And I'm worried we'll have to stay apart until we're both old enough to really live on our own: your parents don't seem too keen on me."
"... you could steal me?" she suggested.
Dyme laughed. "As great a thief as I am, I think we'd get in trouble."
"Pfff, we've survived hell, and I even survived having my heart taken out of my body... we're invincible."
Dyme smiled. "Yeah." He squeezed her hand again. "I'll think of some way for us to communicate, somehow. For now, should we plot what we're gonna do when we're really free?"
"Sounds fun," she smiled tiredly.
"...though let's have you get some sleep first, yeah?"
"Spent all day sleeping..." she sulked, but closed her eyes, the grip on his hand weakening eventually.
"And for good reason." He smiled, still holding her hand. "Don't worry. I'll be here."
She was asleep before he even finished speaking, and awoke in the dead of night, her small bedside lamp buzzing quietly. Her hand felt empty. She panicked and whispered nervously, "Dyme...?"
Dyme had been forced to go back to his room, but he had gotten no sleep. Guilt had been tangling and twisting inside of him. Knowing there could be consequences, he slid silently out of his bed and near-floated across the hall, peeking into Arlene's room. She couldn't sit up just yet. It still hurt badly. But she weakly kicked at her sheets, calling a little louder for him. Seeing this sadly pathetic display, Dyme quickly shut the door and was instantly at her side, clutching her hand. "Right here. I'm sorry. They wouldn't let me stay."
"Th-thought Ian got you..."
Dyme shivered at this thought. "Don't worry, I'm totally okay. I won't leave tonight. I'll see if I can convince them to let me stay." In truth, it had been horrific for him to attempt to sleep alone in his room. Arlene just closed her eyes in relief. Then a thought struck her. "... have my parents been to visit...?"
"I...don't think they have."
"... oh..." She opened her eyes and again looked away, fiddling with her hands. "... Figures. They're busy people. Dad must've had a meeting or something."
Dyme bit his lip, nodding. "Yeah." He looked down at Arlene. "I'll be old enough to legally live on my own in a couple years: d'you think I'll be able to be your 'guardian' or something then?" He really wanted to get away from this horrid town, away from everything...
"... yeah... I'd like that... Something new. Something mine."
"I-I don't even know if they'll let us, but if they do..." He smiled. "It'll be great: I'd definitely have to get a job. Even if your bank account sustains us for a while, it won't last forever."
"We could kill my parents and use my inheritance of my Dad's company?" she suggested. She was too tired to be serious.
"Oh yeah, that'll work out really great." Dyme chuckled, but noticed her tiredness. "...sleep. I'll really be here this time."
"But I wanna talk s'more!"
"What about, then?" Dyme looked amused.
"What we're gonna do when we move in together." She tried to sit up a little on her pillows but gave up, instead opting to gaze at him and muse, "location first." Dyme gently helped sit her up. "As far from here as possible...though it may have to stop at other countries. I only speak English," he said with a chuckle.
"I speak good French," she offered, but she groaned stiffly as he helped her upright. Once done, she settled again and clarified, "but I meant what would be be looking for? City? Country? Small house? Big house? Surroundings?"
"Hmm..." Dyme thought. "I'd like the city again: I've been the nicer parts of one once, and it was great. But what do you want?"
"Just something new. Anything new. To be honest... I'd be tempted to just find myself a cardboard box. But Ian's still out there..."
Dyme shuddered. "I know, but do you think he'll try doing what he did again? With other people? Something like this is going to be big, right?"
She thought about it, then sighed. She was very hungry, but had been told she would only be allowed to start eating tomorrow. "... I don't think I want to care anymore..."
"I just hope they find him." Dyme sighed. "...but back to the houses." He really just wanted a distraction from these scary thoughts. "If you don't want to live in the city, we definitely don't have to: it'd be nice to have a place in the country."
"... Ocean."
Dyme slowly smiled. "I'd like that." He thought back to his first memories of the ocean. The sound was incredible...
"I knew you would," she smiled, closing her eyes as she felt another twinge. "... on a cliff, or level with the beach? One you have risk of flooding, the other is risk of erosion."
"I'd rather live on a cliffside. S'a better view, and we could always walk down to the beach." He smiled at the thought, imagining it. It was all so perfect and wonderful...
"You're making it sound almost romantic. Were you aware of that?" she asked calmly, eyes closed but an eyebrow raised in question.
Dyme flushed brilliantly - not because he had any feelings for Arlene, but because...well...oh dear. "...ummmmmm..." He scratched the back of his head. "...I kinda...have a...confession..."
She groaned, hoping this wasn't going to be what she thought it was. "Dyme... I... I've got no interest in guys right now... You're really special to me, but... yeah..."
"...I was gonna tell you that I'm gay."
"Oh thank Christ."
Dyme started giggling, then laughing. "I-I'm sorry!" he said. "I w-wasn't aware of what I was re...you're okay with this?" He looked surprised.
She nodded, then laughed. "I have standards, Dyme. And as sweet as you are, I want a filthy rich doctor with abs like from the movies."
"Good luck with that!" he laughed. "So, what, are we doing some cliffside house or what?"
"Heh, sure~" She closed her eyes as she relaxed again. "A house by the sea, but on the cliff. I have a big fancy villa in mind..."
"I'd like to see what a villa looks like from the inside," Dyme chuckled. Then, a non-house related thought struck him. "...wonder if I could have a music career."
"Music? Why music?"
"S'the only thing I'm good at...I used to have a cello."
"Really?" She shifted a little in discomfort then managed to resume smiling. "You didn't mention this before..."
"Didn't seem like there was a good time..." His eyes suddenly saddened. "...bet my mother found her and used her for firewood."
Arlene could guess who 'she' was. "... I can buy you one, if you'd like."
He looked at her. "You would?"
"I owe you for life."
"..." Gently, Dyme hugged her. "You've no idea how much that means to me." She winced but didn't let on and hugged him back sluggishly. "D'you think you could sleep up here for the rest of tonight...?"
"Of course."
"Thanks..." She patted the part of the bed beside her for him to sit as best as he could with her against the pillows. He sat carefully by her, making sure not to jostle her. "Where will you go until you can live alone?"
"I don't know."
"You can stay with me here, but when I go home... I won't even be in this state."
Dyme looked a little panicked. "Where will you be?"
"South East Coast."
"That's far away," Dyme groaned, putting his head in his hands.
"I could run away."
"They'd find you and bring you back." He sighed. "I might be able to follow you there somehow."
"... I could get father to employ you as a servant."
He looked at her. "I...actually wouldn't mind that."
"I'd need a servant to help watch me after this operation," she went on, growing more hopeful as she spoke. "They wouldn't have to spend any money, I have my own. And it'd give them more chances to push me aside on someone else!"
"Yeah!" Despite being tired, Dyme was feeling excited. She laughed to seal the deal but twinged then sank back, clutching her chest in pain. Dyme looked worried. "You should get some sleep."
"... d...on't ne..eed..."
"You're in pain, I shouldn't keep you up..."
Arlene winced, but gave up and took his hand. "Stay..."
"I will...just please get better."
"Will... I promise..." She rested her cheek to the pillow and sighed out, squeezing his hand. Dyme smiled gently and got comfortable, watching over her, soon drifting off himself.