Wired

by Caytlyn Brooke

  A loud bang pulls me from my cozy conversation and my left eye spins, trying to focus on the room reflected behind me. A girl with ginger hair materializes to my left, eyeing me with trepidation.

  “Who are you talking to?” she asks, glancing around the empty bathroom.

  “Oh, ah…Weather Cat.” I laugh, pointing to my neck.

  The red-head furrows her eyebrows and takes a cautionary step away from me. “Okay, well, we can hear you out there,” she warns.

  “Okay, well sorry, Tori,” I reply, making a pronounced eye-roll in Weather Cat’s direction.

  “My name is Taylor,” the girl says with evident exasperation.

  I throw up my hands and focus on my marred face. “Sorry, I didn’t know, Taylor. I’ll try to keep it down. Can you believe that?” I say to Weather Cat, scoffing the back of my throat. “Guess I’m not allowed to have a conversation.”

  The bratty girl, Taylor, turns on her heels and disappears inside one of the stalls, snickering under her breath. As soon as she’s gone from sight, she’s out of my mind. There are far more interesting things to do and think about.

  “So what have you been up to?” I ask aloud as another soft wave of dopamine calms me down.

  Nothing much, Weather Cat purrs, sounding bored. Shouldn’t you get back to work? I don’t think your boss would think very highly of you if you hung out in the woman’s room all day.

  I sigh and toss the bloody paper towel in the trash bin. “I suppose. I do have a lot of work to catch up on. It was really nice to talk to you. Thanks for the weather update,” I add, waving to my friend. In the mirror I only see myself, waving to no one like a loser, but I do it anyway.

  Be careful, Maggie. I sense bad weather, Weather Cat answers, regarding me with his lazy eyes.

  “Yeah, yeah, it’s going to get cold. I guess summer can’t last forever in the northeast. I’ll talk to you later!” I watch as my friend disappears in a puff of navy blue smoke. Time to get back to work.

  I take a last look in the mirror and attempt to fluff out my lifeless hair. No hope for that. I exhale, wrinkling my nose in disgust as my eyes glance to the dark brown flats in the stall behind me. Stupid Taylor.

  Unlike I had imagined by Taylor’s words, there is no one waiting for me outside the bathroom. With the Vertix secure on my neck, it pulses wondrous images into my occipital lobe. My vision is no longer blurry or hazy. A renewed determination makes my fingertips tingle. I can’t wait to get to work. Heaven knows how far behind I am on the Just a Taste manuscript.

  Humming a song that I can’t remember the name of, I sit down in my chair and activate my screen, quickly navigating to the saved manuscript. I lean back and settle down in my chair. Open Serenade, I command, scrolling down to find the last place I left off.

  What would you like to listen to? the Vertix asks, displaying dozens of artists and album covers.

  I reach up and trail my fingers through the bright yellow pixels making up Jay Lynn’s newest album. Immediately her breathy, high-pitched voice wraps me in a soft cloud and I sigh with contentment. All right, Joe, let’s see what you’re up to. I take a sip of my cold tea and frown as I start to review the edits. It’s written in first person, a complete switch in perspective from the rest of the book.

  The wind howls through the thick bars, dropping the temperature of my cell to below freezing. I had a blanket but I shredded it into baby strips. I had no choice; it was coming after me, charging me like an angry grizzly.

  I shiver and my teeth chatter as the frigid wind funnels into the concrete prison, curling around any exposed skin its bared teeth can find. My hands begin to shake, but it’s not from the cold. The stabilizing medication filters weakly through my system, inviting the nightmares to return with every passing second. I know they won’t give me another shot, I already tried. Tried begging, weeping, screaming, anything to get more of the medication into my veins. Of course, it’s not the medication I crave.

  I need the Nitrus Candy. Need it more than my lungs need air, or my body needs nutrients. As far as I’m concerned, the Candy is a nutrient, as necessary as water or food. But I can’t get it in here behind these thick impenetrable walls. Other guys snort coke and shoot heroin faster than a snap of their fingers, but no one, no one can get Nitrus.

  The first week was the worst, the hallucinations, the cravings, the transformations. I couldn’t get a grip, couldn’t control myself. They moved me to solitary after two days. My roommate didn’t argue. I doubt he could say much on the topic with his throat ripped out. I don’t even remember attacking him. One moment we were talking about what landed us in the joint and the next rough hands are chucking me to the ground and crimson blood covers me from head to toe.

  That’s when they gave me the first hit of Naloxone. It helps, for a little while, but too soon my body absorbs it and the horrifying visions return, holding me prisoner both physically and mentally as the demon emerges from my twisted mind. I don’t know how much longer I can do this.

  I lean back from my screen, overwhelmed by the last few pages. The writing is okay, haunting from first person POV, almost like I’m reading a passage from my own life. I take a break from the manuscript and check my email. There are at least a dozen queries I’ve been meaning to respond to since last week, but I’m not in the mood.

  Pulling my travel mug toward me, I take a sip and watch Jay Lynn dance in my right eye. Ice cold liquid splashes on my tongue and my gut instinct catapults me forward as I spit the offensive taste back into the mug. The lid is still on and the rejected drink bounces off the black surface, dribbling all over my lap and chest.

  “Great. Just perfect,” I groan, patting the dark brown spots in an attempt to blot them off my light gray pants. “Forget it, this isn’t working.” Pushing off from my desk, my chair rolls back a few inches and I spin around, leaping from the seat in a swift motion. I land on my feet gracefully. Wow, I feel like a gymnast. If only I could have caught that on video. I’ll have to play with the Revolve app later.

  I make my way to the little counter that acts as our breakroom, in search of some Clorox wipes. I round the corner and walk into the break space, but there’s already someone there.

  My heart quickens as I recognize the wide shoulders and short brown hair. Without hesitation, I walk up and place my black mug on the counter, turn on the water and start humming. I don’t want to have to start the conversation. I want him to notice me.

  Remembering my current state, I take a subtle sniff of my shirt. Did I put perfume on today? I think back to this morning but nothing sticks besides my hurried flight. Why isn’t he saying anything? Does he even know it’s me?

  I step to the right, closer to him, and pretend to trip. “Oh my goodness.” I say with a gasp, catching myself on the edge of the counter, managing to bump against his leg at the same time. “Sorry. Oh hey, Jeremy. How are you?” He looks at me strangely, as if he’s waiting for something to happen. I cock my head to the side, confused by his reaction. “Are you okay? Do I have something on me? Besides tea I mean.” I giggle. “Gosh I’m just a mess today.”

  “No, you’re fine. I didn’t even notice the tea…I’m just surprised you didn’t go home. You seemed pretty upset an hour ago,” Jeremy answers, his eyes wary.

  “Oh yeah, it’s because I didn’t have this in,” I explain, turning my head to reveal the copper device. “Sometimes I get sick without it.”

  “Sick? I wouldn’t say that,” Jeremy scoffs. “You seemed kind of possessed.”

  I blush, squirting some Ajax soap into the bottom of my mug. The black lining is so dark I can’t make out the bottom. “Ah, sorry. I guess I can’t help it sometimes.”

  Jeremy shifts, stepping away from me. “Is that normal? To react so strongly?” he asks with obvious doubt.

  I shrug, feeling annoyed at his judgmental questions. “I’m not sure, but it’s no big deal.”

  Jeremy exhales, his breath loud as it whistles between his teeth. “Sure seemed like it.
I thought you were going to rip your face off the way you were scratching yourself. And the way you were screaming…” His voice trails off as he stirs the dissolving sugar crystals into his coffee, careful not to look in my direction.

  I flinch at the reminder. Looking away, I tear a paper towel off the holder to dry out my cup. “Was um…Robins there?” I ask. I’d almost allowed myself to forget about my episode when no one had been waiting for me outside the bathroom.

  Jeremy shakes his head. “I don’t think so, but I’m sure she’s heard about it. I’m surprised you didn’t get an email or something.” He tosses the little red-and-white-striped stirring straw into the small garbage can. “I just can’t imagine wearing one of those things,” he adds, but I’m too busy reacting to his other statement.

  Panic begins to set in. Does Ms. Robins know I have a Vertix? Is it allowed? Who told her? Am I going to be fired? I should go check my email. What does Jeremy think of me? Why is he looking at me like that? Dozens of questions race through my mind, freezing me in place. I don’t know what to do. I feel like a deer caught in a hunter’s scope. Is the end coming for me? Maybe Robins doesn’t even know. Maybe Jeremy is lying. My eyes narrow at a sudden thought. Is he trying to get rid of me? Maybe he’s scared Robins will change her mind and go with my cover design after all.

  Jeremy clears his throat and lifts his coffee to his lips, taking a long sip. I get the sense that he’s stalling for some reason. “So are you feeling better now?”

  I push away my unease and flash a radiant smile in his direction; at least I hope it’s radiant. Quickly I run my tongue along the front of my teeth and feel the thick layer of mossy plaque coating them. When was the last time I brushed my teeth? “Yeah, I’m much better now. Why?”

  Jeremy opens his mouth to reply, but raises his cup back to his lips instead.

  A wispy memory weaves through my mind from when I was hallucinating. “Hey, were you trying to ask me out earlier?”

  “Ah, no,” he says, the lie evident as his blue eyes glance at the floor.

  My face falls as I read the anxiety in the set of his mouth. Is he blowing me off? “Okay, no problem,” I say, forcing a careless shrug. “I’ll see you later then.” I wrap my fingers around my wide coffee mug and take three steps away from the counter, away from him, attempting to keep my chin up. Launch Hot Love, I command and instantly the dark shadowy nightclub-like atmosphere envelopes me.

  Hey darling, the sexy vixen greets. Are you looking for love?

  Yes, is Marco available? I wonder, my gaze already busy combing through the life-sized posters of the edible guys. Why did I even bother with Jeremy? Marco’s here whenever I need him.

  “Hey, Maggie, wait up,” Jeremy calls, touching my arm to hold me in place.

  I spin around, wishing Marco would answer. “Yes?” I say, glancing behind him at the counter for whatever I must have left.

  Jeremy flashes me a bright smile. “Sorry, you’re right, I was trying to ask you out earlier, before…whatever. It just caught me off guard a little but now I know that you need…never mind. Are you free tonight? I know a great place close by,” he offers with a grin, his fingers still holding my upper arm.

  “Ah, well I—” I stammer as Marco’s poster brightens with activity. He’s seen my request; he’s looking for me. “I’m not sure,” I whisper, glancing down at Jeremy’s fingers.

  His touch feels nice, strong, and my mind fast forwards to tonight. He’ll probably take me to a pub where we’ll sit and talk for a few hours about his family and what brought him to Boston. He might kiss me, he might not, and then I’ll go home exhausted from a long night of socializing. But…if I choose Marco, I’ll be exhausted for a different reason. My knees almost buckle as I imagine the way his lips will feel against my skin, the way he makes me shiver when he groans my name.

  With Marco it’s so much easier. We don’t have to waste time going over all the silly minute details to get to know one another. In our own little world they don’t matter, because like Sarah said, it’s not real. I don’t have to worry about hurting his feelings or entertaining him with stories from my past.

  Jeremy wants to talk. Marco wants to play.

  The rational side of me knows it will be nice to go out and have a normal conversation for once, in which both of us speak our thoughts aloud. But the rebellious, reckless side gets bored too easily. I’m not sure if I can sit there with Jeremy for two full hours. With Marco, if I need a break, though highly unlikely, I can just lay back and hang out by myself, sorting through the vast web to find another distraction to entertain my mind.

  Jeremy’s body heat radiates from the tips of his fingers through my thick sweater. What would it feel like to have Jeremy touch me, to be intimate with a real person for a change? I shake my head. Even though it’s all in my mind, it doesn’t mean my relationship with Marco is any less concrete. And the best part is I get to skip the awkward stage after we hook up.

  No forced cuddling, no strange breakfast the next morning, no lame conversations about how great the sex was. All I have to do is leave Hot Love and I’m alone in my own room. It’s hard to resist the appeal, especially with Marco already half-naked and waiting for me.

  “Sorry, Jeremy, I actually have plans with someone else tonight,” I explain, taking a step away from his warm embrace.

  I watch his face fall for a split second before he slips the calm and collected mask back in place. “Okay, some other time then,” he says, nodding once. “Have a good rest of your day.”

  “Uh huh, yeah,” I reply, not watching him go. Marco just took off his boxers and he’s excited to see me. “Just give me one second.” I giggle, my heart already racing. I glance from side to side and see a nearby supply closet, inviting him to step into the office setting rather than jumping to a tropical destination. “I feel so naughty, like we’re going to get caught by the principle or something.”

  “What? Did you say something?” Jeremy asks, looking at me with a raised eyebrow.

  I wave my hand behind me while I stalk closer to the supply closet. “Nope, sorry, not talking to you.” I gasp as Marco slides his hand down the front of my gray pants.

  “You better get in that closet fast. I don’t plan on keeping these clothes on you for very long.” Marco whispers while his other hand rubs my right breast greedily.

  “Just give me a second,” I groan again, my eyes closing in pleasure as his fingers work magic. “I’ve never done this before, snuck off to do it with a co-worker in the middle of the day.” His warm hands push me, guide me closer to my target and my body bangs against the wooden door.

  “Well I hope you don’t have any meetings because I don’t plan on letting you leave until I’ve had my fill of you,” Marco growls running his tongue along the bumpy ridge of my ear.

  My hand fumbles for the doorknob and with one more step I’m inside the small closet, halfway toward my first climax. There’s not much room to move, but in my mind, Marco and I have nothing but space.

  He brings his warm, eager lips to mine, plunging his tongue into my mouth, forcing it open as he rips my pants open, throwing them to the floor. Oh yes. I groan with passion. I definitely chose the right guy.

  I stare at the soggy Apple Jacks floating in the discolored milk. My stomach is growling, but the disintegrating cereal is the last thing I want to eat. In my right eye, a tasty stack of mouthwatering pancakes are piled high on my plate. I inhale deeply and the sweet scent of maple syrup and butter makes my stomach growl louder. Andy and I just finished cooking them in Chef Holt’s tutorial class.

  “Great job class,” Chef Holt says, her lips smiling widely. “I hope you all enjoyed yourselves and have the confidence to recreate this delicious breakfast on your own next time. If there aren’t any questions, please dig in!”

  Unable to refrain from the warm golden plate any longer, my hands reach forward, not bothering with the fork and knife several other civil students are using. I’m too hungry to wait, too hungry to ca
re. Across from me, Andy rips apart his top pancake before submerging it in the thick puddle of syrup pooling on his plate.

  The warm, fluffy pancake creates a delicious explosion on my taste buds as I devour it in seconds. I shove another into my mouth, licking the sticky syrup off my lips. A happy sigh purrs in my throat, growing louder with every bite. It takes me a moment to realize that my stomach is still growling, still empty. No matter how yummy the virtual pancake tastes in my mouth, it’s not real.

  “Yeah, not fair is it?” Andy says, already in line with my train of thought.

  “No,” I pout, pushing the now empty plate away from me. “Why did we even bother?”

  Andy shrugs, swallowing the last bite of his breakfast as well. “Because it’s better,” he admits. “Helps make dealing with reality a little easier.” In my left eye, my brother grins and pulls my soggy bowl of cereal toward him. He slurps up the contents greedily. I imagine that I can hear the milk splash inside his hollow stomach.

  “So what are you doing today? You and Sarah going out?” I ask once his face reappears from behind the bowl.

  He shrugs again, setting the now empty bowl back on the table. “Not sure. I think she’s taking a shower. She said something about having to make a few returns, which is code for let’s go shopping all day.” He rolls his eyes.

  It’s been a few weeks since Andy came over to apologize. They seem to be doing much better and are kissing and touching once more. I’ve discovered it doesn’t bother me now that I’ve got my own midnight trysts to look forward to.

  Vaguely my mind drifts back to when Jeremy asked me out two weeks ago. He had mentioned going out again last week, but I’d already made plans with Marco. I’d even bought new panties. I flush red thinking about how quickly they hit the floor. I’m not even sure he saw them. I shake my head and decide to save my arduous thoughts for later.

  “Shopping, lucky you,” I scoff aloud. “What time will she be ready?”

  A puff of air escapes Andy’s lips. “She said twenty minutes, but that was…seventeen minutes ago, so I think I’ll be stuck here for a while. Not that I mind,” he says with a wink. He doesn’t have to say anything more. I know the feeling. It’s wonderful to just be able to sit in your own bubble and allow your mind to leisurely explore. “What are you up to today?”