by A. M Martin
“Avery, we’ve talked about this.”
I slowly turn my head away from the window towards Miss Theresa, and my eyes flick down to her pen tapping away.
“You need to stay here in the now. Not the past.” Miss Theresa says sternly.
She gets confused. When I zone away from her, she thinks I’m going back into the past. Reliving the memory of finding my dad, but that’s not the case. The past is just the past. Nothing to relive or remember. I just don’t care what she has to say. I don’t seem to care about anything anymore.
“How are you feeling today, Avery?”
My gaze snags on the bright red lipstick smeared across her overly white teeth.
My head tilts a little bit to the side. See I’ve come to this conclusion that Miss Theresa has an odd obsession with Alice in Wonderland, mainly the Red Queen.
Her office is decked out in white and black checkered carpet. The window drapes are a dark red. The chairs for people like me to sit in is red leather. The walls are painted white except for the one behind her black desk that always seems to hold my attention. It’s a shiny blood red.
I bring my eyes back to her and clear my throat. I don’t speak much. Not anymore anyways.
“Fine.” My voice comes out eerily calm, muted.
I watch as a strained smile crosses across her face.
“How do you feel about leaving the Institute?” Tap tap goes her pen.
“Fine.”
I’ve learned the word fine works in a lot of ways.
How are you doing? Fine.
How was your day? Fine.
Was the food good? It was fine.
I could go on and on, but Miss Theresa pulls me back from my thoughts.
She lets out a frustrated sigh; dark eyes narrow on me. She’s been working with me since the beginning. How could a girl who seemed to be hysterical for three months straight, just shut down completely to what I am today. She asked me that a lot but I never answered, so instead she tried to get me to show a spark of emotion, any emotion for the past year and nine months. She hasn’t succeeded yet.
“Avery.”
My eyes flick back up to her and snags on the light red ethereal ribbons dancing lazily through the air. It twists and turns around and throughout her body.
My nails pick up their tapping. No matter how hard I try, I still can’t seem to block out these ghostly ribbons that seem to pop out of know where. I watched and watched for months when they’d come and go and figured out that these colored ribbons that danced around people are their emotions. I might not get to feel people emotions anymore, but I sure get to see them now. When someone’s emotions flare up with a great amount of strength is when these ribbons come out to dance. To taunt me. At least it doesn’t last too long. A couple of minutes at best.
I look out back towards the trees. I don’t like seeing the ribbons with their teasing dance saying look Avery look you really are a nut case. Normal people don’t see them, but I do.
The tip-tap of a pen moving too fast has me snapping my gaze back onto Miss Theresa.
A smile slowly stretches across my face. It’s for no reason other than it brings forth a dark gray ribbon around Miss Theresa. Fear. Her Fear. It seems causing fear in others seems to be the only way to get my blood pumping through my veins and my heart pounding in my chest. Making my body buzz with a high.
She shifts in her white leather chair, shuffling papers around and flickering her eyes up to mine and back down. Only when I drop my smile does she keeps my gaze but never for very long. No one likes to consider my ice cold blue eyes. I wonder what they see in my ice filled depths. Is it their fears? Maybe their deaths? I think it would be nice to be able to read people’s minds instead of sense and see their emotions.
“Alright, Avery.” She lets out a pint up breath. The ribbons are speeding up their dance. “So, you’ll be moving to West End to live with your Uncle. Any concerns about that?”
We’ve been having this same discussion for a couple of weeks now. Miss Thearsa talking me looking out the windows. Why she keeps bringing it up makes no sense to me. It’s not like what I think will have any impact on me leaving here or not.
“No.” My hollow voice rings out.
Another sigh passes from her blood red lips, “What about your friends? Wouldn’t you like to see them before you leave?”
“No.”
“Why is that Avery?”
I turn back to look at her knowing it makes her uncomfortable, “I’m not the same girl any longer.”
I’m coping, and that’s what matters, and it’s not like any of my friends wanted to see me other than Jules. She stuck it out with me for a year before she finally gave up. Which I don’t blame her. Evan, my boyfriend, never showed up, not once at least she did. It goes to show who really cares. Jules told me his lame excuse and break-up speech.
Like I said before I’m different now in more ways than one. That bubbly dancer I was is gone. She broke along with her father that night.
Last time Julie came to visit me, she finally lost it. She yelled and screamed, voicing her thoughts real loud. She finished her rant all in one breath.
“I miss you Ave and love you, but I just can’t do this anymore. I know what happened was horribly wrong in so many ways. It’s like you’re not even here. Hells, you’re probably not even listening to me now. Let me know when my best friend comes back. Okay, girl.” She left that day with a whispered I love you.
I haven’t heard from her or seen her since that day. She was wrong, though. I heard everything she said. I just didn’t feel. Didn’t care.
“Avery. Where did you go just now?”
“Nowhere,” I whisper, looking at her black painted fingernails.
That’s it with her questions. The ribbons are a whirlwind of light red and dark gray. They blink in and out. Faster and faster. I’ve pushed her limits for today. I always seem to push them.
“Alright, Avery.” She crosses her arms, “You know I want you to see a therapist in West End, and there’s also a therapy group that deals with situations like yours. It’ll be good for you. I do wish you the best of luck.” She gives me that fake smile that seems always to be plastered across her face and nods toward the dark wooden door behind me.
I get up from the leather chair but stop with my hand on the door knob turning to look back her. A sweet smile blooms on my face making her eyes widen, and I add a touch of sass in my voice, “You know Miss Theresa when you smile you might want to make it look half way guanine.”
Her mouth pops wide open, and I walk out the door letting in shut with a bang, echoing down the overly white hallway.
I might not be able to feel anything now, but I learned from watching others. How their voice changes with whatever emotion they got running a wreck in them. The way their faces change depending on what their feeling.
I can fake it with the best of them. The only thing I can’t fake is the dead look in my cold eyes. Never could change that, but most people don’t notice. They hear the excitement in my tone, the wide smile that shows off my white teeth and that’s all they need. They don’t realize that the eyes are the doorway to the soul and mine is dead.
Chapter Two
Avery
The clearing of a throat as my eyes snapping up and my head going to the left.
There’s an orderly clad in light green scrubs waiting for me in the hall. I watch as a light sweat peppers his wide forehead. He shifts his feet and a dark gray ribbon pop forth. It twists around his slim shoulders.
“This way.” He mumbles his voice tight with fear.
I turn and follow him down the white hallway. The fluorescent lights are giving off a buzzing sound causing my eye to twitch. Every so often he looks over his shoulder eyes meeting mine for a split second then turning back around.
We come to a stop at a locked metal door. The camera in the right corner blinks its little red light letting everyone know it's watching you. The door unlocks with a loud beep and
the orderly ushers me through into a small receptionist room.
The floors are ash wood and the walls a homely brown. There’s a small nurses desk with a pink-clad nurse behind it and two other doors both on opposites ends of the small space.
I sign my name on the clipboard, showing the nurse my ID card. She won’t meet my eyes. One of many who looks at my nose instead, but at least she has a better grip on her emotions. No ribbons with this one.
I get handed off to another orderly in bright blue waiting outside of the door to the left. The other door leads out into the Main Waiting Area. A lot of locked doors and check in stations around here and always guards. They like to call themselves orderlies, but they’re guards. You can’t go anywhere without one.
We walk down the center hallway that leads to the girl’s wing of the building. The floors here are a bright white, but the walls are painted a bubble gum pink. Obnoxious looking in my opinion.
We came to a stop in front of a white door with a small glass window and my name in big blocky stickers. Avery Black.
The burly guard swipes his card on the scanner and the door beeps, popping open and I walk in.
It’s a tiny room with a twin-size bed and the world’s smallest dresser. The room is if the bed on both sides. The color scheme in here is like every other room in the girl’s wing. Pale blue floor with a bright yellow rug at the end of the bed. Light purple curtains on the small barred window and pale green walls. They’re all about happy, calm colors here. It just looks like a three-year-old was told to decorate.
As I look around, I decide to leave the paintings and drawings I’ve accumulated over the many months here. They have no real value to me, and the only clothes I have is the standard banana yellow jumpsuits the female patients wear. Which I don’t want either.
I turn and look at the guard in his beady eyes, “I’m ready.” My empty voice slices through the air.
A shudder runs through him as he nods his head, dark gray ribbons flare up around his head as he takes off back towards the way we came with me treading behind him. My eyes lock onto the dark gray ribbons. He’s afraid of me.
Which he should fear me more than the other worker bees here.
I had a roommate once. A nice shy girl and I found out this orderly liked to visit her at night. That didn’t go down too well. I swiped a plastic knife from dinner and jammed it in his leg one night.
I got a class nine violation and ended up in solitary for three months. When I got out the girl was gone, and I had a room all to myself.
He looks over his shoulder his eyes narrow, but I know it’s a lie. The ribbons tell the truth. He has a look of fear that he tries to hide.
I smirk, and he whips his head back around. His stride is picking up the pace.
They don’t like me much here. The guards and nurses. I’ve heard them talk, the pretty girl with the blank face, vacant eyes, and calm voice. They’re all afraid of me in one form or another and try to avoid me at all costs. It’s impossible to do here, but they try. Got to give them their props for that.
We enter the same small room I was just in with the same pink dressed nurse. She has me sign out and hand over my Id badge.
The orderly leads me towards the locked door on the right. A door I haven’t passed through since I was admitted into Green Bier two very long years ago.
The door beeps open, and we walk through. I should be excited, happy maybe even a little scared being able to walk through this door, be in this room. I’m not. I’m just an empty vessel with a working brain.
The main waiting room is spacious. Warm browns splashed across the large room. There’s only one person seated in a wingback light brown chair. He’s built like a lumberjack, wide shoulders, a scuff on his jaw line, and a head of sandy brown hair, smartly dressed in a black suit. I’m sure was professionally tailored to fit his wide girth.
I move further into the room, letting my feet drag on the dark brown carpet. They make a soft scuff sound that seems to sound like a gunshot going off in the quiet room.
His attention pulls away from his many papers in his hands. His head snaps up. Ice blue eyes take me in from head to toe. Eyes like mine. Eyes like dads. This man must be Uncle Jeff.
He moves much faster than I thought for a man his size. His long strides are covering the distance between us quickly. His arms swing open. He’s going to hug me. A man I haven’t seen since I was five. A man I don’t even know. He’s going to touch me.
My body flinches back on its own accord. My back is hitting the hunter green wall. He pulls up short. Long arms are falling to his sides. We lock eyes. Dead ice blue to warm ice blue. Ribbons appear out in the air, reflecting the emotions turning is his gaze.
Happy. Sad. Disappointed. The ribbons disappear just as soon as they blinked into existence. The fastest I’ve seen yet.
“Sorry Avery.” His voice comes out soft but holds a commanding edge to it, “I’m Jeff. Just in case you didn’t recognize me.” A sigh escapes him, “And sorry about,” his hands wave towards me, “Just sorry. I was told the rules, and it just slipped my mind for a second.”
I give a small nod in return. Jeff stares a little longer then strides back towards his vacant seat.
I let out a pint up breath. My body is relaxing, and I move further into the room. I don’t like being touched. Don’t want it. The staff learned the hard way. I was least likely to have a violent outburst if I wasn’t being touched. Skin to skin contact made emotions so much stronger, and I can’t block them at all when I’m touched.
That was one of the rules he mentioned. No touching Avery. Another one is closed in places. Four walls no windows tended to cause problems, but that one’s nothing new. I never did like being closed in with no way out.
“No bags.” Jeff’s gruff voice filters to my ears.
My gaze leaves the windows, swinging towards him. He’s looking at my guard with steel in his gaze, turning them a darker shade of blue.
“Err... No Sir.” The guard stutters out. The already gray ribbons darken in hue, moving faster.
Jeff’s face turns hard matching his eyes, and he gives the guard a nod. Dismissing the guard.
I watch the guard scurry through the door like the rat he is.
“Here.”
I look back at Jeff. His voice is softer than before like he doesn’t want to spook me. He stretches his arm out towards me. A pink duffle bag hangs from his massive hand.
I shuffle closer, grabbing the bag from the bottom rather than the straps clutched in his hand.
And wait.
“It’s a change of clothes.” He says, eyeing my banana yellow jumpsuit. “Go change while I finish out the paperwork.”
He takes his seat. Pen to paper.
My eyes roam around the room till I spot the bathroom.
A click rings out in the small room as I lock the door. I turn and freeze. A mirror rests above the porcelain sink.
I haven’t seen my reflection in a long, long time. Glass was a big no, no around us.
The girl in the mirror looks back at me with lifeless eyes. Eyes that used to be beaming and alive. I move closer to the mirror. She’s thinner but taller. Dull black hair hangs to her waist. No longer bouncy with curling ends. The dark circles under her lifeless eyes are obvious against the pale ashy skin. Cheek bones are sharp and pronounced. I do look like the zombie I imaged myself being.
I no longer resemble the girl from my memory. The smiles and hint of mischief are gone. I shrug my shoulders at my reflection not caring and set the duffle bag on the small white sink.
I unzip the yellow jumpsuit, chucking it in the small trash can as soon as my feet slip free. Sports bra, panties and socks get pulled on first. I slip on a white tank and a pair of purple yoga pants. Both hang off my skeleton frame. I grasp the shoes from the bag. My head tilts a little. The clothes are new but not the shoes. My pink and brown DC’s hang from my hand. Jeff must have packed up my stuff from home. I slip on the shoes and grab the last thing from the
bag. Another thing from home. I pull on my Nightmare Before Christmas hoodie. I grab the now empty bag and leave the bathroom and that lemon scent. Not my favorite smell in the world. It’s kind of nauseating.
Jeff’s standing at the wall of windows when I come out. His gaze on the small flower garden outside.
“You look better.” A smile graces his lips as I walk up next to him.
My eyes flick up, looking at his reflection in the window and give him a small smile in return.
It’s fake. I know it, and so does Jeff from the look that comes into his eyes.
He nods towards the dark wood doors, walking that way. His feet are not making a sound while mine seems to pound on the plush carpet, seeming to boom like thunder.