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Not Even Human—Chapter Five
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Lucy's eyes were covered with the notorious sandman's sand the next morning. She quickly rubbed the yellow grime out of her small eyelashes, and she yawned, letting in a huge stream of air into her mouth. The first thing she saw was Aunt Jill, Uncle Frank, her father and her mother, and Bobby gathered all around the sides of Grandma Kim's bed. They were all silent, with the exception of a few soft sniffs and weak sobs.
Lucy saw that Edward was sitting in a corner, all alone, with his head drooping, and his scissorhands shivering. She hated seeing him alone. He looked like a rag toy that had been thrown away and abandoned by a selfish child.
Lucy managed to heave her body up off the chair and slowly crawl over to Edward. He, Lucy observed, was much paler than before, and Edward didn't seem to notice that she was approaching. He was as unmoving as glass, and his black, plastic hair covered his scarred face like a curtain.
"Edward?" Lucy whispered, thinking he must be asleep.
She gently tapped him on the shoulder. Edward stayed still as a statue; he wasn't even breathing.
"Edward?" She persisted, calmly. She tapped his shoulder again.
He lifted his head, inch by inch, his eyes climbing up to Lucy's. The little girl's heart snapped as she saw the cutting, sour, and heartrending gloom that was being held in those two glass black orbs called his eyes. He looked different somehow...he wasn't older or sadder, but he looked like a part of him was gone, like a missing piece to a jigsaw puzzle. Edward watched Lucy come and sit next to him with dead, sorrowful eyes.
Edward lowered his head again, soberly.
Lucy frowned, concerned, and she felt his forehead with her pink, petite palm. His waxy forehead was as cold as snow and just as white. No...it wasn't a sniffle or a cold. Eddie wasn't sick...or, at least, not his health.
"Eddie," Lucy whispered, wrapping her tiny hand around his big, leather arm, "What's wrong?"
Edward didn't say a word, he only looked at her hand grabbing onto his arm, and then he gazed down to the blue and white tiled floor. He sighed, the sound of tears and tame sadness ringing in his sweet breath. He wished with all his heart that he could hug Lucy right now, or, he thought, he would be eternally happy by just shedding a real, watery tear. Yet both were impossible, and Edward knew it.
He always wondered what it would be like to cry. Was it like bleeding? If it was, then he wasn't missing anything. He knew what pain was like. But, Edward wasn't perfectly clear on what it felt like, and he had never had the courage to ask someone. He had always imagined crying as taking the pain inside of a person and making it flow outside, so that it would never come back. He wanted to cry.
"It's alright, Eddie," Lucy said, gingerly hugging Edward's arm, "Grandma'll get better soon. She'll live, I know it..."
You don't know, Lucy?
"I bet any moment now she'll spring out of the bed and be as right as rain!" Lucy said, excited by the very idea of her Grandmother making a miracle recovery. "And we'll all have tea with my dolls at home..."
No, Lucy. We can't.
"Grandma, you, and me...we'll all have Christmas together, Edward. And we'll have a great time, too." Lucy encouraged, hope and anticipation stinking strongly in her voice.
Edward wanted to tell her so badly, but his mouth felt like it was sewn shut. He felt Lucy sneak under his arm and hug him, lovingly.
Edward's heart stopped. A child had never hugged him before, and he was not accustomed to the feeling. He had only been hugged once before, and that had been with Kim. Not even his father had hugged him, kissed him, yes, many times, but actually hugged—never.
Lucy hugged Edward, as if he were a huge, cold, leather and plastic teddy bear.
Molly gave a short whelp when she saw Lucy hugging onto Edward. She swiped off the tears from her rosy cheeks and rushed over to pull her child off. Edward's cloth-covered hands were razor sharp, and horribly dangerous for a child to be close to.
"Lucy, Lucy!" Molly cried, as she pealed the small girl off, "He's dangerous, honey! Don't get close to him, baby!"
Lucy struggled in her mother's sturdy arms as she was being yanked away from Edward. Molly was infinitely stronger than her little girl, and it was no problem for the mother to protect her child from the monster. Edward looked up at Molly, deeply hurt, but the defensive Mother only returned the look with a frown.
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When Molly told Lucy that Grandma Kim had "crossed the rainbow bridge" last night, the little girl had burst out in tears. She became inconsolable, crying her eyes dry, and clinging onto her father, who was crying a few manly, solitary tears.
Grandma was stiff as whitewashed wood, her eyes were staring off into space, her skin was icy smooth, and she was wrinkled like a dead rose. Lucy felt sick to the stomach just looking at it, and she had to cover her mouth to prevent gagging. The thing in the bed wasn't her beloved Grandma anymore. It was like a glove with no hand in it; limp, dead, and white.
They all watched, grievously, as Kim was carefully carried away. The family stayed in the room, crying and calling other family and telling them about Kim's peaceful death.
Aunt Jill, a short, red-cheeked, blue-eyed, fading blonde woman of her early forties, and her red-haired husband, Frank, were soothing Bobby and trying to put his irritated nerves to rest. Aunt Jillian gave Edward a curious glance, but made no attempt to speak to him. Frank just ignored Edward altogether.
"You say he's that robot or something from Mom's stories?" Jill had asked Jake, in a hushed tone. Jake bobbed his head up and down, seriously.
Jill's lips tightened and she frowned, cautiously, as she looked the "man" up and down. She looked as if she was judging a horse in a derby. The woman nodded approvingly at his face, for it was handsome enough; she scowled at his hair, it was too messy; she winced at his hands, a flicker of hate beaming in her sky blue eyes; and she shook her head at his horribly unfashionable leather clothes.
Jillian could fix all that, though. She, after all, she had carried on the family legacy of being an honorary Avon representative. She had her own salon in the next town, and she had graduated beauty school with flying colors. She had been waiting for a challenging case like Edward for years.
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Surprisingly, Kennedy Boggs was also waiting for a challenging case. Perhaps his father, Kevin Boggs was also waiting for something like Edward to cross his path.
Two weeks had flown by, and Kim Walters' memorial service had been packed with people. Her coffin was a cherry oak with white lilies and pink roses gathered in a bouquet on the top. The people could have cried an ocean as Kim was lowered into the soft, sagging ground.
Edward watched, hardly getting the energy to lift his head. He blamed himself for Kim's death. Hadn't he, literally, scared her to death? He felt like he deserved to die right along with her.
He didn't socialize, and though the crowds did wonder who and what the specimen was, they mostly left him alone. He looked so interesting, with fancy clothes over the leather and buckled suit. The people who did talk to him were never answered—Edward never spoke back.
Without Edward, the snow stopped. The snow had started to melt into a slushy, sloppy mush, and Suburbia was the bright, hot place it had been so many years ago. Flowers had started to grow again, trees were growing greener, grass was showing under the white snow, and the sun beat unmercifully down on the town.
TV weather reporters were stunned, stumped, stupified.
After being unmasked from the white veil of ice and snow, Suburbia looked like a pastel paradise. Houses were lined up one by one, square windows with butter-colored curtains, emerald green lawns, and grey driveways.
The Walters' home was a robin's egg blue with a wood brown roof. There was a green lawn with patches of muddy snow dotted here and there. The dove-white walls, grayish-white carpeting, and colorful furniture were still there. Kim's home had hardly changed.
Tears of mourning still reined in the Walters' residence, but a difficult and demanding issue had sprang up. It was in hard debate, truly.
What was to be done about him?
"I don't think it's safe," Molly whispered to Jillian, with her head shaking, "We're harboring a criminal..."
"Yeah," Jillian returned, curtly, "A dead criminal, Moll. Come on, Ed isn't any threat, obviously, besides, ya know, his hands." Aunt Jillian gave Edward a friendly look; "His completion is remarkable, isn't it? He's a true winter color, that's for sure."
"Please, Jill, this is serious!" Molly's voice grew louder, "Don't tell me you're even thinking about keeping him! He's sweet, I know, he's very sweet, but—" Molly's voice hushed down to a raspy whisper, "He is, after all, a murderer, Jill."
"I say it was self defence, Molly," Jake said as he butted into the conversation. "From what I've heard from my mother, Jim Higgins threatened to kill Edward. The Higgins boy had a gun, and he was drunk as a sailor, too. If I was in Edward's shoes, I would've done the same."
Frank, since all the adults were now huddled together in the living room, decided to join in on the discussion. The children and Edward were completely left out of his elite meeting, and it was strictly for adults only.
"But what will the neighbors think?"
"Fry the neighbors! They don't have to know about him!"
"So am I expected to keep him inside this house? Secretly?" Molly fumed, outraged, "Jake and I live in California! We have a house of our own. You and Frank live miles away, Jill. There's no way Kennedy could take care of him, he being in Florida and being as irresponsible as he is. Kevin's too old, and he's just as reckless as his son."
"Kennedy is eccentric, Molly, not irresponsible." Jake said, contradictorily, "And my uncle isn't reckless. He's...just a bit of a mad scientist."
"You can cover up for them as much as you like, Jake," Molly snapped, harshly, "The fact of the matter is that there is no way in this earth that they could take care of Edward's safety."
"Are you saying we should put poor Edward back were he was?" Jillian said, appalled.
Frank, who had always been the fair-minded sort, said: "We should have Edward in this discussion, guys. I think it's only fair, you know."
"I agree." Said everyone in the group but Molly, who sulked a moment, but soon saw the wisdom in Frank's suggestion.
They summoned Edward. The boy was such a sad thing to behold; his eyes were closed most of the time—as if he wanted to shut out the world and fall asleep forever. He was like a dilapidated house that had once been the prettiest, fanciest mansion human eyes had ever been blessed to see. He hardly uttered a word anymore.
He clinked and clanked his way over to them. His head was still bent downwards, and his hair still covering his face.
"Edward," said Jillian, sweetly, "We've been talking, honey, and—"
A hammering knock banged at the door. The bell ringed numerous times, making quite a ruckus.
"That must be Kevin!' Molly said, jumping up anxiously.
As soon as the door was opened, Kennedy Boggs, a brown-haired, brown- eyed, tall, and mischievous man of twenty-something burst through the entrance. Kevin Boggs, a man of early sixties, followed behind with a similar glint of mischief, but Kim's death had sobered him up a bit. Kevin had grey-brown hair and a wrinkled face, but his eyes looked terribly boyish.
Kevin and Kennedy gave their hellos to the family and they sat down. Kevin spread the papers over the kitchen table.
Edward, when he first saw Kevin at the funeral, could hardly believe Kevin was the same person. Kevin had changed. When they had been introduced by Jillian during the memorial, Kevin had said:
"You're that...thing!" Kevin had said to Edward, "You're that thing that tried to attack me when I was a kid..."
"He was running when you were a kid? Damn. Edward certainly was built to last..." Kennedy chuckled, teasingly.
"You shut up, boy." Kevin had snapped, as he looked Edward up and down. The father and son exchanged a glance that no one could quite understand, and they gazed at Edward's hands, amazed. They had something up their sleeve, and everyone was waiting for it.
Edward peered into the kitchen, and then ducked his head back into the livingroom again. Since he was too shy to look, he would listen.
"Okay," Kennedy's voice was loud and gripping, like a knife being sharpened, "We all remember who's got what in the will and testament, right?"
There was no sound from the family, but Edward assumed they were all nodding their heads. Jake and Molly had inherited the house, Lucy and Bobby got money, books, and small keepsakes, Kennedy and Kevin had got her car, TV, and other electronics. Kim had even put Edward in her will—he was to get her pictures, drawings, and her old white dress.
Those were the first material things Edward had ever treasured.
"Good." Continued Kennedy, "Well, can you also recall the statement saying that we were to, I quote, 'take good, loving care of my dear Edward if he is ever told news of my death'?"
"Where is this leading to, Ken?" Asked Jake, with great suspicion. He knew how sneaky his cousin was. Ken might be some sort of genius, but he was also a thief, a pretty good one at that.
"Shut up and listen, Jake." Kevin said, calmly. "As you know, I was once the greatest machine technicians NASA ever clapped their eyes on. Ken works in the robotics lab now—"
"And," Ken cut his father off, eagerly, "We have a few papers that we need signed. Nothing much, you know? Everyone in the technical and robotics lab is completely jazzed about the whole project I've thought of—They're all eager to get to work."
"What are you talking about?"
"Edward. I'm talking about Edward." Kennedy said, his eyes crazed and half- wild, "I am going to finish him."
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