Owen stared at the notebook in his room, perplexed at the blank paper. It was extremely unusual for there to have been no contact from Ollie at all. The last thing written had been the day before Jason Ryan had gathered all of them, these so-called "survivors". Oscar had been present for the majority of the morning as far as Owen could understand, and he was being tight-lipped as always. Owen knew one thing – something had happened the night before, Oscar was being tight-lipped and Ollie wasn't allowing him to access those memories.
He glanced to the other notebook – this one had been written in regularly. Oscar wasn't much of a social butterfly but he often enjoyed talking to Ollie and Owen. In fact, a lot of Oscar's notebook were conversation between the three of them. It had been advice from Charles Evans to use the notebooks as a way of communicating and honestly, the advice had worked. Often there would be blackouts or uncertainty on which persona was where, but Owen had to admit that it had worked to get them all on the same page… at least, it had until now.
Ollie was the main persona and the gatekeeper of the Cox's boy's mind. It was a strange feeling and a feeling it took Owen a long time to understand – being a persona, knowing that you weren't the one that was born twenty years ago. In fact, Owen felt more like he was in his late twenties, his section of mind somehow feeling older than the physical body itself. Doctor Evans had once told him that perhaps it was a way to give himself an authority figure to tell him what to do. It made sense – Owen was the one who would speak sense and be the voice of reason. Ollie had a tendency to be a little bit of a hothead and Oscar, as always, would cry and be sad pretty much all of the time. Owen could feel Ollie actively shutting him out and he wondered if that was the same for Oscar.
It was unprecedented. For the first time since they arrived to Hearthome three years ago, they felt like maybe they could head out into the outside world. Now it seemed all that progress was for naught.
Owen refocused back on the notebook and the message on top, realising that it was a new message from Oscar. Nice and simple: Hi, can I speak to Marcus?
Well, he had nothing better to do. Owen had started having his meals with Noah, Robyn, and Penelope in a group but he had found that Noah talked too little, Robyn talked too much, and Penelope seemed to have less attention for him in a group than she did when they were alone. She was much more interested in asking Robyn and Noah questions, asking them more about just the List, but their lives before and all manner of things. Questions that Owen himself had once answered as Penelope had been the first resident to treat him as a person and not as an extension of Ollie Cox's mind.
Slipping on his shoes, Owen turned to look at the lock. It was a brand new lock, installed the same evening as Jason's talk. Robyn seemed to know something about it and it had only made Owen all the more worried. She had talked in hushed whispers about the people in masks and how they had took him. After hearing this, Owen felt himself phase out and switch places with Oscar and it wasn't until the following morning that he was able to come back out.
Immediately he had spoken with Doctor Johann Schneider about it, but the doctor seemed to be holding something back. Owen always knew when people were holding back on him. He seemed more interested in talking to Ollie than himself, and Owen found it hard not to take that personally, especially with Ollie not showing up.
He left the dorms, walking through the now dry grass and across the square to the Rec-Zone. Inside he caught a glimpse of John disappearing into the back hallway that led into the various rooms. Owen didn't like John – there was an air about the gangly man that just didn't sit right with him, not to mention that in the three years Owen had been here he had never even seen John until that meeting in the administrative building.
Instead of heading that way, or into any of the crowded recreational areas, Owen headed for the corner where the cafeteria was engrained into the design of the Rec-Zone. The combination of food and play meant some residents barely left the zone but Owen supposed that was what Hearthome intended. If the residents were eating and staying out of any trouble, that was all they needed.
The cafeteria had four different stations, each serving a different kind of food. Just another way Hearthome tried to act different from the mental hospital it really was. The far station was a deli counter, serving tasty bagels, baguettes, and subs filled with all kinds of delicious food that seemed freshly prepared. It was the most popular of all the stations, and was manned by Marcus Morris, a large man in both girth and height who constantly wore a white apron over his orderly uniform even when he wasn't working the station.
Oscar timidly raised his hand in greeting at the large man. "H-Hi Marcus."
"Oscar!" The rambunctious voice practically bellowed back, drawing more than a few glances from the various residents eating around the cafeteria. Marcus pulled himself away from his station, his grin wide above his double chins and between two massive sideburns that emerged under his chef hat that he was determined to wear at all times, even though it made him look as if he had just walked out of a cliché. Marcus clapped Oscar on the back, nearly bucking his knees. "Oscar, Oscar, Oscar! It has been far too long, my lad, far too long! Here, you look like you haven't eaten a thing, let me rustle you up something—"
"That's okay Marcus, I'm not too hungry," Oscar said. "I-I actually thought I could maybe talk to you?"
"Talk? I can do talking! I love talking! Let us find somewhere a little less open and a little more quiet," Marcus ushered in Oscar behind the station, past a kitchen with the saliva-inducing smell of fresh bread, and into a back room filled with boxes, supplies, coats, and various other odds and ends that meant there was barely enough room for Marcus himself, let alone Oscar. Marcus sat with a thump, crossed his arms over his belly, and opened his eyes wide. "So, what can I do fer ya?"
Oscar rubbed the back of his neck as he sat down on a stool half-hidden under a pair of coats. "I've been feeling a little lost lately," Oscar said, staring down at the toes of his shoes. "I-I mean… more than usual. Ollie… Ollie hasn't talked to us in the past couple of days and-and Owen doesn't know why…" Oscar's gaze swung from his shoes to Marcus' own boots, swinging to the coats, up to the ceiling, everywhere other than the big man's face. "…He's… asking questions… He thinks I know something…"
"And I'm guessing ya do?" Marcus rumbled.
"Yes." Oscar admitted. "I-I want to tell him, I do, but…" He hugged his arms. He could already feel his cheeks growing hot as they always did, his eyes aching. "…What happened… it was…" He couldn't say the words. The memory of what those people in masks did to John was seared into his mind. They had stabbed him, pierced his flesh with a knife. They had held a gun to Banks' head. All the time Oscar couldn't stop crying through it, just like always. And what had the woman told him? To stay scared. What kind of request was that? Oscar was scared alright, he knew that. He looked up at Marcus. "I'm scared it's my fault that Ollie's missing."
Marcus unfolded his arms and placed his palms on his knees. He took a long breath like a bellows and let it out again, his warm breath filling the tiny room. "It sounds like you need to talk to one of the good doctors and not to me, buddy."
Oscar immediately shook his head. "I have to talk to a professor now. Professor Schneider. I don't like him. He asks questions. Owen does the talking. He lets me watch but… I don't want to talk to the professor. He scares me."
"Professor Schneider?" Marcus echoed. "Never heard of him."
"He came with—" Oscar caught his breath. He was told not to call Jason Ryan by name if he was to talk about him to anyone. "…the investigators. They wanted to talk to me. About what happened."
"I mean if the professor isn't workin' for ya, I can listen if you like but…" Marcus shrugged his big meaty arms. "I ain't no doctor, buddy."
"I don't want to talk about what happened!" Oscar sensed the sharpness in his tone but Marcus seemed to ignore it. "I-I just… I wanted to talk… to a friend… 'cause I feel like… there's not many friends… and the situation that is happening is…" Oscar felt the familiar tears slip out of his eyes. It was no good, once they started, Oscar could never stop them. "Owen asked that professor a question…" The word caught on his throat.
After a moment, Marcus leaned forward and placed a thick hand on Owen's shoulder but despite the size it was a delicate touch. "…A question?"
"He asked… he asked what would happen if one of us d-d-died." Oscar bent over as untethered sobs took over. It took a long while before he could recover himself and eventually he was able to look back up to the patient Marcus. "I know why he asked but he asked it like he expected it and that scares me, Marcus, that scares me, because I don't know what would happen if one of us dies…" The words came out in a rush. Finally he stared up into the small eyes of the orderly. "What do you think, Marcus? What do you think would happen to us if I died?"
"Oh boy, buddy…" Marcus patted Oscar on the shoulder before pulling away. "That's a question and a half, don't you think? Why all this worry about death? Hearthome is safe, buddy. Always has been, always will be. Hell, the way I hear it this place it a whole lot safer than out there. So stop this talk about death, alright? Have a sandwich, on me."
"I don't want a sandwich…" Oscar sniffed. "I just need someone to talk to who isn't a part of me. You… You're the only one who does…"
"Well, look, here's the thing…" Marcus chewed on his thick bottom lip for a moment before finding his words. "I ain't no authority on the matter so take it with a grain of sea salt, alright? You, Owen, Ollie, you all share the same body. You share the same path, side-by-side, you know? And I get that's a big thing and I'm not gonna pretend to understand the psychology of your ol' noggin' up there. But if y'all share the same path then you all gotta take care of each other. Now for the majority of us, we only have the one bit of advice keeping us where we gotta go. You got three. They say three heads is better than one, right? So with three heads keepin' an eye out for yourself then you got three times the chance of keeping yourself safe. That make sense?"
In Marcus' own, inarticulate way, it did. Oscar knew it did. He wished he could talk about the List but he didn't want to risk alienating Marcus. Oscar had friends few and far between but he did feel like he could call the chef a friend. Oscar nodded, wiping away his tears with a sleeve. "T-T-Thanks."
"Now, buddy, let's hinder all this talk of death and what-not alright? I don't like thinkin' about it and thinkin' about it does no-one no good. So Ollie is takin' a bit of a vacation from the sounds of it, well, why don't the two of you take advantage of it – like a dad away from home, you know? Find a hobby, learn something new, get something to distract yourself. Owen likes to play chess with Penny right, so how 'bout you find some board game to tickle your ol' membrane?"
"O-Okay…" Oscar stood up, nodding vigorously. "Y-Yes… Yes… Doctor Evans used to tell me… b-before… before that… that doing something like that would be good for me… do something for myself… I get it… Okay, Marcus. Okay."
"Good boy. And hey, Oscar, I wouldn't say no to giving that professor of yours a talkin' to. Give him a taste of his own medicine. He can ask all the questions he wants but if he's a professor and not a doctor, you give him all the questions you want. These investigator types like interfering in Hearthome business so make sure that whatever they want with you is in your favour. I know little of what happened that night and I know you're not comfortable tellin' me, but we orderlies wanna look out for you residents. It's our job. Not the investigators. Not this professor. Ours. So hey, come to me again if you want a bit of the ol' Morris advice I got enough to fill a two-foot sub!" Marcus' laughter came thick and rumbling as he practically dragged Oscar out of the room and back through the kitchen and with a friendly clap on the back sent Oscar on his way.
As he walked absently through the Rec-Zone, Oscar half expected Owen to take control but instead he felt something in the back of his mind, some kind of fifth sense of sorts, and Oscar knew that Owen was letting him have a little time for himself. He knew with that sense that Owen found Marcus' words somewhat helpful as well. If Ollie was out for a while, why not take advantage? Wiping the remnants of wetness away from his face, Oscar tried to control his breathing and follow through with Marcus' advice, the light presence of Owen urging him on.