***
For the rest of the day, I battle between not being able to stop thinking about Noah, Ketchup’s reaction to him, and worrying about Zander. Now, as I stand in front of Peak View Hospital, Oscar is all I can think about. I want to go in and see him, I do, but I can’t force myself to take the first step. I love Oscar, despite the things he’s done. Seeing him locked up and raving never gets any easier. I always walk in expecting him to get better. All he ever gets is worse.
Zander hides his emotions most of the time, but during our visits to Oscar, we are equally overwhelmed. He doesn’t even try to hide it. His hand slips into mine and squeezes tightly. Having him close reassures me, but not enough to keep a shiver from running through my body.
“You don’t have to go in if you don’t want to,” Zander says. “He won’t even…”
I flinch, even though he doesn’t finish. I know what he was going to say. Oscar probably won’t even notice if I’m not there. He may not even remember us coming at all. So what if he doesn’t? I’ll know.
“No, I want to go in,” I say. “I’m ready.”
Even still, Zander has to tug on my hand to get me to take a step forward. We make it to the front doors, and as soon as we step in, the gloom of the place presses in around me. It affects Zander, too. The way his shoulders drop and his expression pales betray him. He always handles these visits better than I do, but he is the one who has the most reason to never want to set foot in this hospital. He’s the one who found Oscar. I shudder at the thought and fight to keep tears from falling. Before I’m ready, the visitation room is standing before me.
Of course, it’s not the regular visitation room with couches and rocking chairs and people playing checkers and reading books. Only the non-violent residents get to use that room. Zander pushes the door open and tows me into the room where Oscar waits for us. I close my eyes to the sight of the plain metal table with shackles bolted onto the top and legs, against my oldest brother being attached to those chains.
For those used to this kind of setting, the restraints would seem barbaric. Oscar’s strength makes them necessary, though our family knows they’d do nothing to stop him if he really wanted to escape or hurt someone. The hospital staff only knows what Grandma has told them, most of which is lies. The “genetic” condition we’ve all been diagnosed with is a vague catchall for our bizarre qualities and the fact that if we’re apart from each other for too long we become deathly ill. I think in the beginning, the staff was at such a loss for how to deal with Oscar that they simply took Grandma’s word on how best to handle him and keep him calm.
I know the precautions are necessary, but I can’t stand seeing him like this. I have to shut away everything else and picture myself dancing. Ballet. In my head, I run through my favorite dance, The Red Shoes, a piece that is very technically difficult and requires absolute control. I work through the skills and elements one by one until I feel my emotions calm and settle. Only then do I open my eyes.
Oscar used to look a lot like Zander, fit, handsome, tall, and magnetic. Most of that is gone, now. The sallow tone of his skin and sunken crags in his face have aged him and stolen any hint of the good looks he once had. His muscles are flaccid, though I know they still contain more strength than most people have. Although his height hasn’t changed, the way he hunches and hides from the world makes him look small. “Oh, Oscar,” I whisper quietly.
It takes Oscar several minutes to even realize we’re in the room. When he does notice, his whole body jerks against the chains. Fists slam down on the table and his eyes rise to meet Zander’s. At first he doesn’t say a word, but his nose wrinkles in disgust. The sneer isn’t normally something I would scrutinize. Given Zander’s lies lately, I wonder for a moment if Oscar tastes it, too. I wish I could ask him, but Zander’s presence isn’t the only thing that holds me back. I doubt Oscar could even answer a question like that, judging by the way he’s acting today.
The purplish color around Oscar’s eye sockets make his blue eyes look so much darker than they used to, but they pierce Zander all the same. He shivers under his brother’s glare and says nothing.
The quiet twists Oscar’s features. His head tilts to one side and a hideous smile that shows strangely white teeth appears as his lips turn up. “I know you,” Oscar says slowly. The harsh edge to his voice makes me step back. His eyes slither from Zander to me. “I know you, too.”
Neither of us responds. I can’t make my mouth work in the face of his disturbing voice and appearance. Zander doesn’t seem to be having any more luck than I am.
“I know your faces,” Oscar growls, “but they’ve changed.” He shakes his head viciously. “They’ve changed from what I remember.”
The sharp ping of his hands slapping down on the table startles me into jumping.
“Younger, happier, hopeful, that’s how they used to be. No more young and innocent for us. No more happy, no more hope. No more happy, no more hope,” Oscar chants. “No more happy, no more hope. No more happy, no more hope.”
“Stop it,” Zander finally says.
“No. I won’t stop. I won’t stop until you admit it. No more happy, no more hope, especially not for you,” Oscar hisses at him.
“Shut up!”
Oscar’s eyes widen and fixate on Zander. His finger waggles back and forth in front of his face. “Shame, shame, I know the truth. You can’t hide it from me. I know.”
Zander’s fingers crush mine in their grip. I have no idea what Oscar is rambling about, but Zander is shaking next to me. I want to ask him what’s going on, but I’m afraid of this getting out of hand. My frightened and distraught mind struggles to find something to distract my deranged brother. “Oscar, did you like the CD I left you last time we were here?”
I don’t have a lot of hope that he’ll actually answer me. Hope that he even remembers me giving him the music, let alone him actually listening to it, is even slimmer. So when he turns to look at me and speaks, I am caught off guard.
“Tchaikovsky was never my favorite. I like Beethoven better. The madness in his music makes me feel less alone.”
Following up such a lucid comment from Oscar is completely impossible. I’m too shocked to respond. I can’t remember the last time he spoke to me so clearly.
“Alone… alone,” Oscar sing-songs. “I am all alone. Hopeless and forgotten, I’m alone now.”
“No you’re not, Oscar,” I say quickly. “We’re still here. You’re not alone.”
“Have you come to take me home? Home to our broken home?” He says it mockingly, but there is hope in his eyes. My lips break into a frown that threatens to split my face in two.
“Someday,” Zander says quietly, “but not today.”
“Promises.” Oscar closes his eyes. Then he suddenly slams his head against the table. The crack of skull on metal twangs through the room. A man at the door moves to come in, but Zander holds him back. Slowly, Oscar lifts his head back up. The unfocused quality of his eyes makes his sneer even worse.
“Someday isn’t a real day. It will never come. I’ll be stuck here forever, getting poked with needles and fed drugs and being broken even more than I’m already broken. Promises are nothing. I won’t believe you. It’s all fake!” he screams. Red in the face with anger one minute, he’s back to normal a moment later. Well, he’s back to the way he was when we walked in today, glaring and maniacal. Somehow, he seems to focus on both me and Zander at the same time. “If you believe I’ll ever leave here still alive, you’re crazier than I am.”
“You’ll get better soon,” I say quietly.
Oscar’s hyena laughter fills the room. “Better?” he trills. “Are you stupid? There is no better. You know that. You’ve got the same thing I do. You’re sick, too. You’re one slip away from landing in the room next to mine. You both are.” He breaks out in psychotic laughter again.
“That’s not true,” Zander says forcefully.
Snickering like h
e’s heard the funniest joke in the world, Oscar rocks his body back and forth. “Alec-zander and Van-essa. Baby brother changed his name. Little sister changed hers too. Neither one can stand to hear their given names. They hate who they are, try to hide their true nature and hope reality will just go away. Zander and Van pretend they’re normal. They’re delusional, insane. I’ll wait here in my personal hell until they join me. I’ll wait and wait. I know they’re coming. It’s the only thing that keeps me from losing it completely. Baby brother and little sister come hoping they will one day take me home. I let them come with their foolish dreams, knowing the hope belongs to me. One day they’ll come and they won’t leave, and then my dream will come true. Baby brother and little sister dreaming, dreaming, building their nightmare one visit at a time.”
The room falls silent and I hate the sound even more than Oscar’s voice. In the quiet, I can hear his words whispering their way into my head and taking root there. The absence of sound lets me hear his insanity digging into my brain and settling in. We’re given half an hour to visit, but I’ve had all I can take for today.
“Zander, I want to go,” I whisper.
“Go?” Oscar asks. “You can’t go, silly little sister. You belong here. There’s no home for you to go home to anyway. Nobody left to love you.”
“Yes there is,” I argue.
“No. There. Isn’t.”
“Zander loves me. Grandma loves me. Even you love me, Oscar.”
That part of him has to be there still. He can’t have completely forgotten playing tea party with me when no one else would, or walking me over to Laney’s house when I was too little to go on my own. He’s my big brother. He has to see that still.
“I don’t love you anymore,” Oscar says. “I don’t love anyone anymore. All I am is hate and anger, pain and destruction. I don’t love you anymore. I don’t love you! I don’t love you anymore! Get out! Leave and don’t come back. Don’t come back or they’ll keep you here forever. Get out! Get out! Get out!”
On the last sentence, he pounds his fists against the table and doesn’t stop. Over and over again the metallic bashing washes over me. He takes up the chant again at some point, but my eyes are closed and my hands are over my ears by then. Suddenly, I am moving, but I don’t open my eyes to see where I’m going. I don’t even realize Zander has my arm until the door closes behind me and the noise stops. I open my eyes at the sudden lack of screaming and banging. Zander stands in front of me pretending to be stoic and calm, but the twitch at the side of his mouth gives him away.
A breaks out of me, and a second later Zander's arms are around my shoulders. I don’t miss the fact that he’s shaking as much as I am, but I pretend he isn’t crying and he does the same for me. Standing in the hall of the building we hate more than any other, we hold each other and wish… wish things were different, wish everything Oscar said to us wasn’t true.
Wicked Hunger Page 11