A/N: Eep! I'm a few days behind! Sorry. Had to leave town immediately after school (which is already crippling. Bah.) and only just got back.
Before you start this chapter, I want to say: I don't mean to offend anyone who is under similar circumstances as my mental patient characters. It's just who they are.
Our eyes barely even meet, but our fates are intertwined
Our destinations are exactly the same, so run through the unbearable night alongside me
Even if the radiance that we chased too far
Continues into bad dreams
T.M. Revolution - Resonance
Chapter Six: The Mark and Morning Sessions
71 Days Left
"So she didn't murder you in your sleep," I say, floating near the ceiling. Quinn just turned over in her bed and opened her eyes. I drop a few feet. "I'm slightly disappointed."
"Good morning!" she says brightly.
"No, it's not."
Quinn sits up and rubs her eyes. She swings her spindly little human legs over the edge of the bed and stands up, glancing at the motionless pile of Pyre in the other bed.
"I already checked. She's not dead either," I comment. Quinn walks over to Pyre's bed in her weird little bare feet. She's just asking for trouble there. If she gets assaulted, it's her fault. I watch as she leans over the sleeping mass. "You're poking her? You are crazy."
Quinn looks up at me and rolls her eyes.
"She knows the morning routine for this place. There's no way I'm going to just sit here and wait to see what the rest of my life is going to look like." As she turns back to Pyre, I look at her as well. Her eyes have snapped open. She sits up suddenly, grabbing for Quinn. Quinn screams and flees backwards several feet.
"What?" Quinn cries. "What are you doing?"
Pyre continues to get up, untangling herself from the sheets. She's only wearing a huge, thin shirt, so I look in exactly the opposite direction. Quinn runs over to me and tries to hide but I float upwards several feet. Even though Pyre can't see me...if it's possible, Quinn is even more stupid in the morning. Quinn abandons this feat and runs toward the door.
"You're pretty caged, you know," I observe. "Better run fast."
Pyre is shuffling after Quinn sleepily. Quinn looks back and yelps. She grabs the door handle and pulls it open, still looking behind her. She runs out the door.
"Oof!" a voice gasps. "What on earth are you doing?"
Pyre stops walking, and I make my way over to the door. Quinn is recovering from colliding with the nurse from yesterday, Anna. Does that woman ever leave this place? If it were me, I'd take all the time I could away from the scummy youth here.
"Oh – sorry!" Quinn says hurriedly. Pyre walks up next to Quinn and puts an arm around her waist. Anna the nurse doesn't notice, but Quinn stiffens. I snicker.
"I was just coming to wake you girls up," Anna says. "You have breakfast then a group therapy session."
" 'Kay," Pyre yawns, bringing a hand covered in an overlarge sleeve up over her mouth. I resist the urge to shiver, watching her. Where could her matches be now? Then I catch myself. I've seen far more violence and vulgarity in the worlds than she could ever imagine. What are some matches up her – hidden.
I meant hidden.
Anna smiles and steps back from the doorway.
"There's an attendant in the bathroom, so you can go shower if you want."
Pyre bumbles off, scratching her leg under the shirt. Quinn stays where she is.
"I prefer to shower in the evenings. Is that okay?"
Anna thinks for a moment.
"I suppose that's fine. We'll just need to get someone to watch you. Your mother hasn't dropped off any new clothing for you, so I brought you some." Quinn accepts the pile of clothes and Anna allows her to dress in the room. I look the other direction, but Quinn starts talking.
"The Death Note is still in the wall in the other room, right?" she asks.
"I'm surprised you even remembered. Idiot."
"Good," she says, ignoring everything but the bare minimum of my response. "We should just keep it there unless we need it for something. We can't risk a nurse finding it."
"You should keep it there unless you need it for something. You can't risk a nurse finding it," I correct, staring at the wall. She finishes changing and walks out of the room. Anna leads her to the cafeteria and she sits down at the table from last night after getting a tray. Only Thompson and Aidan are there, picking at greasy eggs. I hover near Quinn, but am careful to avoid looking at the humans eating. Mouths and digestion is disgusting.
"Sooo," Quinn says awkwardly. The two human boys are silent. Thompson is giving her the same look as last night, probably trying to decide if she was truly an alien or not. Aidan, of course, says nothing.
"You have the Mark," Thompson says suddenly. Quinn looks surprised.
"The mark?"
"The Mark. You've been contacted by aliens." Thompson is glaring at her. I resist the urge to nod smugly at Quinn.
"How can you tell?" Quinn asks. She sounds slightly interested. Of course, she's nuts, so I guess it's no surprise. But maybe she's just trying to keep up a conversation for some socially correct reason. Not that she should know anything about something like that.
Thompson gestures towards her left hand. Quinn holds it up questioningly. As soon as she does, Thompson hisses and ducks down under the table, like he did the night before, with only his eyes and the top of his head showing. Loon.
"Get it away. I don't want to be abducted again."
Quinn drops her hand and he slides back up into his seat.
"Was he probed?" I joke raucously. Quinn leans back a bit and takes swipe at me like she's just gesturing. It clips me, though, and I roar with disgust. "I'll murder you!" She just smirks and puts her chin on her hands, continuing to converse with Probe-Boy.
"So what exactly is wrong with my hand?"
Thompson looks at her oddly.
"Like I said. It means you were abducted by aliens. Or at least contacted by them. They Mark their victims like someone would tag an animal. To keep track of them. And eventually, they'll use the Mark to control the human so they can take over the world."
"That seems like a lot of work," Quinn mutters, looking at her left hand. I pause my fit of disgust and look at it as well. It's normal, for a human hand. But it's also the hand she used to write her shrink's name in the Death Note. Could that mean anything to Thompson?
"So why weren't you Marked?" Quinn asks. "If you were abducted, wouldn't they have Marked you?"
"They tried," Thompson says darkly. "But I escaped before they could finish. I stole one of their spacecraft and crashed back into the Earth. Then I cut it out."
"Cut it out?" Quinn yelps, looking more dumbstruck than usual. "You mean…with a knife?"
Thompson nods, glancing around for staff. Seeing no one looking, he pulls up his white standard-issue shirt so that we can see his side. A great chunk of flesh was scooped out, surrounded by ragged scar stitching.
"If you want, I could help you get rid of your Mark."
"No thanks!" Quinn says immediately. She clutches her hand to her chest.
Thompson gives her an angry look.
"Then stay away from me. You're just one more brainwashed alien troop in their army." I snort.
"You know," I say to Quinn. "He's onto something. You're left handed. You killed your shrink with that hand. Isn't that ironic?" Her eyes flick to me, but she doesn't say anything. She sighs deeply, then brightens.
"What's your story?" she says to Aidan. His black eyes look at her, but he says nothing. "Oh, right."
"Yep." Pyre sits down beside Quinn, Chloe right behind her. "I told you, he's mute. But sometimes he uses his own version of sign language…sometimes I can understand it, sometimes I can't. But anyways…his story…mute, apathetic…malevolent sociopath…he's a tough cookie. He's here because his parents stuck him here when he didn't respond to any kind of medication. They were a young couple and couldn't really deal with him."
"I see," Quinn says.
I look at the hunched boy. I can't help but be a bit stirred by his story – I'd never show it though. He was banished to a hostile place because of false assumptions. Sort of like me. Not exactly, since I'm not a scrawny little runt…
But close.
"Chloe?" Quinn says tentatively. The girl looks up at her and shrugs.
"What Pyre said last night. Suicidal. Bulimic. Depressed. I've tried to kill myself a few times. I tried to electrocute myself with a hairdryer. Hurt like hell, but it didn't work. Drank ammonia once. That one was rough. Cut. Pills. That's it. I've been in and out of almost every hospital in the state. It's been a circus." She has a slow, thoughtful voice. It's slightly deep for a girl, with a raspy hitch to it. From the ammonia? She's not as bad as Ryuk though. That I must admit.
"Wow," Quinn breathed. "Do you live nearby, or is this just another hospital for you? How long has it been?"
"No. I lived in Brooklyn Heights during all that, with my parents. But they gave up and shipped me here. Those suicide attempts were spread out over about five years."
"Five years…" Quinn counted. "So it started when you were…twelve?"
"Eleven."
"Brooklyn Heights…wow. That area is gorgeous. I visited a friend there a few years ago."
"What's your point?"
"Well," Quinn said slowly, no doubt trying to put her simple little human thought pieces together. "How can you have been among beauty like that and not have seen a reason to keep living?"
I perked up at this. I was actually interested in what human's thought of their own lives. It was sort of intriguing, in a pathetic way. They were so painfully ignorant of what meaningless lives they lead.
But Chloe doesn't seem to want to give a deep, philosophical answer. She just shrugs again. Quinn looks at her a moment longer, but decides that Chloe is done talking. I slump down in the air, slightly disappointed. Oh well. I had the smallest bit of respect for her – she had some idea about the insignificance of a human life. Her suicidal tendencies were proof of that.
The group dissolved into silence. Not even Pyre was talkative after that. Eventually they got up and dumped their trays. An attendant led them to their group therapy session. They were all scheduled together – I suppose it made things easier.
Once they were in the small grey conference room, however, Pyre gradually started brightening again. She managed to get Thompson talking. He was still hooked on Quinn's "Mark", but he seemed to have decided that she was at least safe to talk to. Which was not technically true. She has a way of dragging you down to her level of stupidity, so you can never return – I'm only immune because I'm not human. If I could warn him, I would.
Probably.
After a few minutes of Pyre's head-splitting laughter, a doctor walks in. He's tall and slightly bulky. Bald. Mid-40s. His name reads Donovan Jakes. I immediately don't like him. I don't-like him a lot more than most humans. But his time is quite short.
"Hello!" he says cheerfully. Pyre looks at him like he's something she just scraped off her shoe. I can't help but feel a wave of respect for her then. She's a good judge of character. I suppose.
Jakes sits down in front of the semicircle, looking them all over appraisingly with a smug, confident smile on his face. It looks friendly…but I can tell it pisses both Pyre and Quinn off. When did I get so empathetic?
"I'm Dr. Jakes, I'm going to be your new counselor for both mornings and evenings."
"Evenings?" Pyre asks. "We just have morning sessions."
"Starting today," Jakes smiles obnoxiously, "you now have both."
I see a vein pop in Pyre's forehead, but she doesn't say anything. Jakes is still smiling at the taut audience before him.
"Where's Ms. Lienel?" Chloe asks, while examining her nails.
"She was moved to another ward. Now, I'd like to get started. I've read through all of your files, so I'm just going to start off with a question…" he paused. "Why are you here?"
"Oh, here we go," Pyre mutters. Then, louder, "When a mommy and daddy love each other very much…" she cuts her own self off. The nasty smile hasn't left Jakes' face. For some reason, my urges to kill humans (other than Quinn) had diminished slightly ever since Quinn took my Death Note. Probably because I'd had no direct contact with a human other than her.
But they were back again. I very badly want this guy dead. I won't have to wait long, though. The thought makes me want to giggle, and I don't giggle. Ever.
He waits for an answer, but all of the patients are resolutely silent. He turns to Aidan.
"Aidan. Why do you think you are here?"
Aidan glowers up at him from underneath his eyebrows. His obsidian eyes are cold. Jakes smiles blandly at him with a hand on his own knee. When he doesn't look away, Aidan does something odd. He holds out a hand, and raises the other. He slaps the side of his hand down onto the palm of his other, like he is trying to chop it in half. The rest of the room stares at him a moment.
"Oh, yeah," Pyre says. "This is the sign language I told you about, Quinn." She turns to the stupid doctor. "He says he hopes you choke in afterbirth." Quinn snorts and covers her face with her hand, hiccupping. I look at Aidan, slightly amused. Emotion flashes in his eyes, but then vanishes. I can only interpret it as…satisfaction? Quinn is giggling, but I can't hate her for it. Chloe is fighting off a smile as well, even though she's still looking at her cuticles. Pyre, of course, is flat out guffawing. A small smile springs to my lips, hidden behind my mask.
The doctor closes his eyes briefly, still wearing that hateful smile. He leans back in his chair. Even his posture is getting on my nerves. I take it back. Forty-five days is a long time to wait, when I think about this guy.
"What about you Chloe?" he asks, as if he hadn't heard the last statement. Chloe doesn't look up from her nails.
"Because my piece-of-shit parents stuck me here."
"And why would they do that?"
But Chloe is done talking again. Jakes waits for a moment before turning to the human I possess. Unfortunately.
"Quinn. I recognize you as the newest member. You arrived yesterday, correct? This is your first session with any of us," he says to her. She doesn't respond, but he doesn't wait. "Do you think you are here because of the things your schizophrenia causes you to see?" Quinn is silent.
"I will tell you, that no, that is not the answer. You're not here because you see things. Simple medication can take care of that. You are actually here because you refuse to believe that what you see isn't real. You haven't accepted that the…" he consults a paper in his lap. "…'monsters' you see aren't real."
I can see where this is going…that's almost exactly what the other shrink had said before Quinn killed him. This guy didn't have long – I glance up at his lifespan. Quinn is sneering quietly, crossing her arms and slumping defiantly in her seat.
Jakes gives her an amused glance and continues to press about her schizophrenia. I can see Quinn get more and more irritated. Even the other patients are starting to get restless, listening to it.
I hate this guy. He's making fun of Quinn, sure, but he's doing it for the wrong reasons. I like to tell her she's stupid and crazy because she is. It messes with her. But he's calling her crazy for entirely selfish reasons. He's giving people like me a bad name. That perverse smile of his hasn't once dropped off his face.
Pyre shifts in her seat, giving Quinn a nervous glance. I watch as she squares her shoulders and arranges her expression carefully, so it's amused and obnoxious. I feel my face change. I reach up underneath my chain mask for clarification – yes. I am shocked. Why? How can I feel surprised, and at the same time, not be sure?
I snap away from my thoughts and watch Pyre.
"Hey," she says with a sideways grin. "I come here to fix my own mental instabilities, not listen to someone else's. Why don't you ask me about my mania for lighting things on fire?" Quinn's shoulders slump, and I can see she's relieved that she's free from his rapid fire accusations. I lean back against the wall. Things are getting boring again. But something about the way Pyre steeled herself to intercept Jakes bothered me. Was everything about her an act, or was she just behaving according to some unwritten human law of compassion? Help your friends and fellow mental patients or something?
As soon as the session ends (it was taken over by Pyre. Who knew that whelp was such a master of impromptu therapy?) I get up, feeling my exoskeleton crack, and follow Quinn out the door. She detaches herself from the group of patients and walks towards the nurse's station.
"Can I go lie down for a bit in my room?" she asks. A nurse we haven't seen before nods and tells her that there will be someone by to check on her in a few minutes. Quinn smiles and walks off.
Once in her room, she throws herself down on her bed and stares up at the ceiling. I attempt to learn the human thing called yoga in the middle of the room to pass the time, since Quinn doesn't look up for conversation. Pleasant or otherwise. I've got an eternity either way, so why not?
Cathy Dawe the nurse comes in a few minutes later, along with two orderlies. She's holding a small paper cup and a baggie with two pills in it. I eye them from the Scorpion pose (I'm cheating at it, but only a bit. If I can float, then why can't I float?). The pills look benign enough, but if Quinn is a diagnosed schizophrenic, there's definitely not sunshine or butterflies in those little capsules.
She seems to be thinking the same thing.
"Here," she says, thrusting it at Quinn. "This is your daily prescription. They're mandatory, according to your doctor."
"Why haven't I met my doctor?" Quinn frowns. She takes the bag and examines it. Cathy Dawe smiles but waits for Quinn to take the pills. Quinn opens the bag and takes out a pill, sticking it in her mouth. Her mouth twists, then she grabs the other and shoves it in too. She accepts the glass of water from Cathy Dawe and takes a swig. Then she sits there.
"Open," Cathy Dawe says. Quinn looks confused, keeping her mouth fused shut. I shimmy over on my forearms, not wanting to break the pose. Quinn is trying to find a way to stall opening her mouth. But Cathy Dawe grabs her jaw and pries her mouth open. Quinn tries to fight her, causing water and two white pills to spurt out of her mouth and nose.
I exclaim with disgust, dodging masterfully and maintaining my pose. I was nearly five feet away – that was quite a range.
The two orderlies grab Quinn's arms as Cathy Dawe pulls another bag out of her scrubs. This time Quinn is forced to take the pills. Cathy Dawe holds her nose until she swallows. I wince. Humans. Cruel, but primitive. Different from Gods of Death.
The three leave Quinn there, gasping and spluttering. I watch her from my pose as she tries to disguise her sniffs as clearing her throat.
Pyre walks in a few minutes later, looking sympathetic.
"Your first medication, right?"
Quinn massages her jaw where the nurse grabbed it and nods.
"They're absolutely batshit about that. Cathy is the only nurse that I truly can't stand. As for the orderlies, they're just little soldiers," Pyre continues. She sits down at the end of the bed, looking far more welcome than the squat little Cathy Dawe who was just there.
"There's something you should know about this place," she says. "It's something that Chloe and I have figured out, based on how long we've both been here. It's a points system. We've decided that it takes about 1000 points to get moved down a ward. You get five points for attending your therapy sessions, ten for taking your meds, and five for talking to a nurse. You get ten for laughing. You lose ten for sleeping too much. Minus ten for crying. Minus twenty for not taking your meds. It's much easier to get into the negatives than to move down a ward." Pyre leans back against the wall. "Don't tell a nurse what's going on if you see something, okay? That's digging your own grave."
Quinn nods. Pyre is quiet a moment, then sits up suddenly, and grabs Quinn's hand.
"Come on. It's lunchtime. The lunatics are waiting for us."
She drags Quinn off the bed. Quinn seized the corner of the wall so she isn't immediately pulled out of the room.
"I don't think I'm welcome there. Thompson still thinks I'm an alien."
"Nah. He thinks everyone is an alien. Let's go."
"I'll be there in two minutes," Quinn says desperately, losing her grip. "I promise. I just need a moment."
Pyre stops pulling and stares into Quinn's face.
"Fine. But hurry up." She leaves the room. Quinn turns to me. I haven't moved from my Scorpion pose. I'm afraid my back might snap at this point.
"Go get a page."
A/N: Yeah. She went there. Okay, I'll update on time this week! Promise!
Feel free to review!