by T. Styles
Confused, she said, “I cannot walk in and talk to her?”
“Not now. It’s too early for Isabel to have contact. Besides, she must learn to follow the rules.” She walked away.
Slowly Nine approached the door and peered in. Everything was white but it still felt dark inside. Isabel was sitting in the classic Prophet position, on the floor, back against the wall and knees to her chest. Her eyes were closed and her soft hair had grown like weeds around her braids, causing them to dread up. “Isabel,” Nine whispered. “Can you hear me?”
Upon perceiving Nine’s voice, she rose up, and approached the door. With wide eyes and a huge smile, she said, “Cousin, are you coming to take me home?”
Nine’s chin dipped toward her chest. “Not right now,” she said regretfully. “They tell me you are not ready, so we have to follow the rules.”
“The rules?” Isabel frowned. “Since when does Nine Prophet follow rules?” She walked away and sat on the edge of her thin bed. “I made one mistake, Nine. I made one mistake and for that I deserve to be punished for life?” She paused. “You know that I’m not crazy. You’ve had long lucid conversations with me. Don’t you remember?”
“But you also tried to kill my husband and jump off of a banister. I just want you well, Isabel. That is all.”
She rolled her eyes. “You said I was like you. Is this how you would treat yourself?”
Silence.
Nine lowered her head. “Just follow the program, Izzy. Follow the program and I will get you out of here.”
“Do you know what they consider following the program to be in this place? To take a bunch of pills every hour,” she cried. “They want to steal my spirit, Nine,” she said touching her chest, “but they can’t have it! It’s not up for sale or negotiation! I won’t let them!”
“Isabel, just—”
“Go away, Nine Prophet! I’m hearing loud colors again. And even behind these doors, I can still attack.”
Needing to take care of matters at home, Nine backed away. Her walk was slow at first before turning brisk. She was almost out of the wing when she heard, “Nine, is that you?”
The sound of the woman’s voice sent chills down her body, stopping her at once. How could it be possible? She was told she was dead. Slowly she moved toward the sound of the voice and when she did, she was staring into her birth mother’s eyes.
She was looking at Kelly Prophet.