Cruel and Unusual (Somewhere In-Between)

by C. E. Wilson

  Where was she? Last I remembered, she had put herself on the chair…my eyes trailed down to the cushion where I usually sat. A tiny, unmoving heap with pink hair was there. Silently, I carefully padded over, trying to keep my steps light. Now that she was asleep, I could finally gawk at her openly without feeling embarrassed about it. She was in a tight little ball, curled up like a child, and her hair had fallen over her face. I smiled and crouched to get a better look at her face. For a doll, fairy, toy, whatever…she was adorable. Far too cute for twenty. She looked very young but possessed a regal quality that hinted of experience and maturity.

  Maybe she wasn’t lying about her age.

  I saw a tiny movement and narrowed my eyes to get a closer look. I didn’t want to get too close. Something told me she didn’t want to see a giant face hovering over her. My curiosity changed to concern as I realized that the movement I had seen was the quivering of her tiny shoulders and jaw as she shivered violently. Quickly, I stood and retrieved the nearest, cleanest rag I could find. I brought it to my nose and, not finding the scent offensive, I carefully draped it over her body and wings. She nuzzled up to the warmth instinctively, and her hand pulled it closer around her.

  Oh, God. Her adorableness was too much. She was almost too cute, if such a thing were possible.

  “What are you?” I whispered, daring to lean a bit closer. Each of my breaths ruffled her hair slightly, and I felt embarrassed about my size over hers. Just a breath could move her. I had never before felt so powerful nor more self-conscious about it. I could hurt her if I wasn’t careful. Dammit, even if I was careful, I could probably still hurt her. My hand seemed to be working on autopilot as it lifted from my knee and started to go toward her. She shifted and yawned, but didn’t wake up. My index finger reached her hair, and I gasped at just how unbelievably soft it was. And the color? I hadn’t seen anything like it…not outside of a video game, that is.

  I smoothed a soft strand away from her face, and the pad of my finger brushed against her cheek. I didn’t know why, but I was surprised that it was warm. I expected her to be cool to the touch, but I felt life and warmth behind her doll-like exterior. I wanted to learn more. However, I felt horribly perverted for my actions already, and I was sure I was pressing my luck. She would wake soon, and I didn’t want her to find me pawing her up because I wanted to know how she worked. I don’t think she would have accepted that as an excuse.

  I still couldn’t resist and traced my finger down her cheek one more time before I backed away and stood up. For the first time in a long time, I felt that my life had purpose. I rarely ate breakfast, but suddenly I wanted to. I wanted Verity to wake up and see that I was sorry for sleeping the whole damn night. Still though, I had to wonder why she didn’t try to wake me up. I bit my lip. Maybe she was still scared of me. I wouldn’t have blamed her.

  I went over to the kitchen area and unwrapped a package of stale bread. I would need to thaw another loaf for tomorrow. I never would have believe that frozen bread would be edible, but it was just fine. I had a lot of bread. Plus, we had some cereal, but I decided toast would probably be easier for her than cereal. Right? Maybe…I didn’t have any milk at the moment. I always traded my milk to Flynn for more bread. Maybe Verity liked it. I would have to find out when she woke up.

  I pressed the button on the toaster and waited. As I turned to face Verity, I smiled and leaned back against the table. I still couldn’t get over it. A girl, er, a young woman barely the size of a Barbie doll. With wings! How was such a thing possible? My mind flooded with questions I had planned to ask her the night before.

  How had she ended up like this?

  Why couldn’t she remember her real name?

  Why couldn’t she trust her own memories?

  How the hell did those damn wings work?

  My face brightened. The wings! Since she was asleep, that was probably the best time to check them out. I stepped forward, but for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to lift the rag and take a look. She hadn’t wanted to show me, and though I could easily take a look for myself and she would be powerless to stop it…I couldn’t bring myself to disrespect her so blatantly.

  She’d kept insisting she wasn’t a doll but a person.

  Maybe it was time I started to respect that fact.

  The toast jumped up from the toaster. Near black and smelling like char.

  “Shit,” I muttered as I took out the pieces. They were almost as dark as my hair. Whether she was a doll or not, she probably didn’t want to eat burnt toast. I had no butter. Maybe that was something I could request for the next month.

  If Verity even wanted it.

  If Verity was even still around.

  “What time is it?”

  Verity’s small voice rang in my ears. I jerked around to look at her, but her eyes were fully closed and she was clutching the cushion under her. Was she talking in her sleep? I smirked at the idea. She’d said she wasn’t a kid, but she certainly wasn’t helping her case when she stirred under the blanket like that, mumbling with her eyes closed.

  And then my smile faded as the tiny woman’s face twisted in pain.

  “No,” she muttered. “No, I don’t want to go. I don’t want to see them. Please…don’t make me go…” her voice sounded so broken.

  Go where? See who? She sounded so miserable. Who would make her feel that way?

  I set down the piece of toast and moved towards the chair.

  “V-Verity?” I said softly. Past experiences let me know that it was never a good idea to pull someone out from a dream if they were talking in their sleep. It could be disastrous, but maybe I could pull her out from her dream slowly. “Verity, wake up…you’re having a nightmare.”

  “Nooo…” she groaned. “Pl-l-lease. I don’t want to go!” Her tiny hands gripped the fabric as if it were a lifeline. “They’ve seen me. They’ll catch me! I won’t go! I’m not a doll, you monsters! I’m a person!” She started to get violent, more erratic in her actions.

  What the hell? My hand hovered close to her flailing body, but I still didn’t touch her. I couldn’t.

  “Stop! Let me go!” She was crying in her sleep.

  Something snapped in me. I couldn’t take it anymore. To hell with it if she would be pissed. I didn’t like it when girls cried.

  With careful hands, I scooped her and the blanket up off the chair and sat cross-legged on the floor. I shushed her as I used to with Mauve when she would come home crying after a bad day at work. She would come to bed and crawl into my lap, and I would hold her against me, feeling like the most important person on earth. I’d rock her back and forth in my arms until she stopped crying and would either fall asleep or ask what I was going to make for dinner.

  I smiled softly at the memory but looked at Verity when I did so. In that moment, I felt the same way with Verity in my hands. I could take care of her. I could protect her from whatever demons haunted her at night.

  “Shhh…wake up,” I whispered, still rocking her. “Wake up…you’re having a bad dream.”

  She stopped screaming immediately.

  I couldn’t believe my voice could have such an effect on her. My heart warmed at how pleasant it was to hold another person against me, even a person as small as Verity. “Come on now. Wake up…it’s okay. Wake up.”

  She moaned and whimpered softly in my arms, and I lowered my chin to my chest to get a closer look at her.

  She was waking up, stirring in the folds of the blanket.

  I decided I didn’t want her to see me looming over her. I could only imagine the conclusions she would come to if she woke up to me rocking her in my arms. She didn’t want to be seen as a child or doll. She wanted to be a person. Carefully, I set her back on the chair and rested a light hand on her back, rubbing between her shoulder blades with my thumb.

  Finally, her eyes opened. I quickly took back my hand and tucked it in my lap. Her eyes met mine as she practically gasped for air.

  “What…what the…�
�� she muttered, blinking her sleepiness away. Her eyebrows shot up into her pink bangs as she finally recognized me. “What happened?”

  “You were having a nightmare. I tried to wake you up, but you were in a panic.”

  “I was,” she agreed, lowering her eyes. She bit her bottom lip. “Did I say anything…”

  “You were saying a lot of things.”

  “I didn’t wake you up, did I?” she asked.

  I snorted. “You’re worried about me?” I asked with a dumbfounded expression. “I should be asking about you. Don’t worry, I got plenty of sleep.”

  She pulled the makeshift blanket down away from her and sat upright on the chair. “Did you give me this?” She held it up.

  “You were shivering,” I said with a shrug.

  “You really are all about male chivalry, aren’t you?” she asked in a teasing voice.

  It was nice to see her smiling again. I couldn’t stand how she had looked when she was crying out. I wished she knew I was the one that had held her and calmed her down, but I couldn’t reveal that to her. Not if I didn’t want my nose scratched again.

  “Seriously though, Malcolm. I didn’t wake you up?”

  My cheeks warmed from her calling me by my first name. It sounded like an intimate nickname now. “I got plenty of sleep. Too much, actually. I told you I was only going to take a nap, and then I wake up and it’s the morning. I’m sorry about that.”

  “Well, at least I know you’re capable of saying sorry,” she said lightly as she rubbed her eyes.

  I wondered why she was working so hard. Was she worried about what she said in her dreams? Did she know I’d picked her up without asking?

  “I’m really not upset,” she said when she saw my concerned expression. “You were tired. A lot happened to you—”

  “And you,” I said.

  “It was good to sleep on something soft,” she said offhandedly.

  “What do you mean?”

  She waved me off, and her nose scrunched up. “What in God’s name is that horrible smell? Did you burn paper?”

  “No, actually,” I turned my head and nodded toward the kitchen, “I…eh…tried to make breakfast.”

  “Fail,” she said with a musical laugh. “Horrible fail. You’re going to have a hell of a time getting that down.”

  “I’m not the only one. It wasn’t only for me. I made it so you’d have something to eat.”

  Her face changed slightly. I couldn’t read her expression. “You…you made something for me? You tried to make breakfast for me?”

  Didn’t she understand putting toast in a toaster wasn’t even a big deal? “It’s toast.” I tried to play it off so I wouldn’t come across as a complete idiot. Shaking my head, I stood and walked to the kitchen. “And as you can see, I burned it badly.”

  “I’ll say.” She still scrunched her nose. She stood on the chair and fluttered over, landing on the counter directly in front of me.

  She still wasn’t flying smoothly.

  “Is there anything else to eat?”

  “Not much. I have some cereal—”

  “Cereal works.” Verity smiled at me encouragingly. “So long as I don’t eat you out of house and home.”

  “You’d have to do quite a bit of eating for that.” I reached over her head for the nearest, and hopefully freshest, box of cereal. I took the bright yellow box to my table and sat down. Verity watched me and started to flutter her wings. “Are you sure you don’t want some help?” I implored.

  “Nah.” She made her way over jerkily. “I can take care of myself.”

  “Oh.” I tried not to sound put off. Honestly, I was looking for an excuse to hold her again. The feeling of holding a woman again – even a miniature one – was incredible. I wanted to see…I shook my head. What the hell was I thinking about?

  I dragged a hand across my jaw and rubbed it a bit, listening to the sound of my stubble before reaching into the cereal box and handing Verity a few pieces. She took them gratefully and sat on the opposite side of the table. We looked at each other for a few awkward moments.

  “So what does a guy like you do?” she asked finally.

  “Do?” I asked and swallowed loudly. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, you live out here…it’s kind of the ass end of the middle of nowhere, isn’t it?”

  I cleared my throat. “I mean, well yes, I suppose it is.”

  “So you must like being by yourself.”

  “Not at all!” I said a bit too loudly. Dammit. I was really going to have to learn to keep my voice lowered. I couldn’t imagine how sensitive her ears were, and I was shouting away. “I mean, no. I don’t like being isolated. I hate it, actually.”

  She turned around slightly to look at me. “Sooo…why are you out here?”

  I swallowed. “You mean you don’t know?”

  She shook her head. “No. I was trying to get aw—” she stopped herself before another word fell out. Obviously, she still wasn’t comfortable talking about her past.

  And I wasn’t either. I didn’t want her to know who I was or what I had done, but if she was going to stay, I supposed I would have to tell her something.

  She was probably thinking the same thing. “I looked out the window while you were sleeping. I didn’t see anything. I saw another small cabin.”

  “That house belongs to my only neighbor.”

  “Are you friends?”

  “Not exactly.” I was unable to hide my grimace. The day Flynn and I became actual friends… “We’re both kind of stuck here together. We make it work.”

  “A guy?” she asked curiously.

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “And you live alone?” she asked.

  “Yes.” Wasn’t that obvious already? Did she really think I would want to stay in a shanty shack like this? “This isn’t exactly my first choice to live, Verity.”

  “Why not?”

  I reached up and rubbed the back of my neck. I didn’t know why I was so nervous. She was going to find out eventually. It would be better to hear it from me up front than try to conceal it. “People like me…” I hesitated, “we’re here because we’re serving time.”

  That got her attention. She set down the doughnut-shaped piece of cereal next to her. “Serving time?” she repeated. “Like… like volunteer hours?”

  “No, Verity. Not like volunteer hours. I think you know what I mean.”

  She lowered her head, embarrassed again. Her face flushed pink.

  “I did something stupid and bad a few years ago, so now I’m here.”

  “And your neighbor? He’s the same way?” I nodded. “What did he do?”

  “Something to do with politics and money,” I said. “He’s pretty vague about the whole thing. I know he’s keeping his mouth shut and protecting some big shot, but he’ll never tell me any specifics. Hell. He hasn’t told anyone.”

  “And you…” She started again carefully, “Why are you here?”

  I looked away. “I really don’t want to answer that.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m ashamed.”

  “Why?” she asked again. “Was it something really bad?”

  “Yes, it was,” I said shortly, my anger building. I didn’t know why I allowed the conversation to go on that long. I should never have mentioned anything. I should have lied and just said I liked the privacy.

  As if she would have believed me.

  I wouldn’t even believe it myself.

  “Malcolm,” she started again, “I won’t push you to talk about it—”

  “So don’t.” It almost came out as a growl, but I didn’t care. I wasn’t ready to talk about what I had done. Talking about it only made it more real, and when it was more real, it became less likely that I would ever see or talk to Mauve again. I didn’t want to talk about it.

  “Okay, okay,” she said softly. “I won’t push you.”

  “Good.” My eye twitched. “I’m sorry I’m being an asshole. I don’
t want to talk about it, okay? It’s too real. Please…” I croaked, softening my tone, “please know that it doesn’t make me dangerous.” Not necessarily. “And I would never hurt you.”

  “I know,” she muttered.

  I tried to study her face, to read her. I expected to see doubt. Disgust. Uncertainty. Instead, I saw an earnest expression, head cocked slightly as she listened to me. No fear, no judgement.

  “We all have secrets. I get that.”

  I nodded carefully. If I had secrets, I could only imagine the ones Verity was hiding. The screaming in her sleep. The crying and the pleading to be left alone. What would I have to do to get her to talk about those things? How selfish was I to want her to open up to me while wanting to remain a closed fist?

  I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I didn’t even notice Verity standing up. I thought I’d caught the faint sound of her wings, like a rattling chain, but I was still too immersed in my memories. Mauve’s face. My parents’ reaction. Oh, God! I couldn’t let myself think about it again. I didn’t want to be on those meds to help me sleep. They made me sluggish. They made me like a zombie. I couldn’t think about those things.

  I flinched sharply when something small touched my hand, resting on the desk. My head shot up as Verity stumbled backward, barely keeping her footing. “What were you doing?” I asked, looking down at her. I balled the same hand into a fist.

  “I was trying to comfort you…or something. I guess…” she stumbled over her words shyly, and I started to warm up again.

  “Comfort me? Verity, I told you I’m here to serve time. If I wasn’t here, I’d be in jail. Why would you want to do something like that?”

  “I dunno,” she said with a shrug. She didn’t approach me again.

  Why did I react like that? I had jumped up as if her touch was ice—as if it was poisonous. I felt terrible.

  “I mean, I don’t know what you did.”

  “You don’t,” I agreed.

  “But you can’t be all that bad,” she mused, taking another step backward. Was she sure about that? Her actions were speaking a little louder than words, but I didn’t say so. Honestly? Hearing the words at all was nice.