Head Case

by Kendra Moreno

  “You gonna clean up my mess after all?” I goad, trying to take the attention away from where Kenzie hides, but I can tell it’s too late. This is either gonna be really messy or go really bad. I can’t see another way out of this.

  “You hiding something, Straight Jacket?”

  “Just a dark sense of humor. Did you know toe tags are attached to dead bodies before they arrive in the morgue? They have numbers on them. There’s an EMT who always marks his bodies with the numbers eight-zero-zero-eight-one-three-five. I laugh every single time.”

  “Shut the fuck up.” Vic shoves me to the side and leans down. I can see the moment he finds a mess of blonde hair by the vicious smile curling his disgusting lips. “Well, what do we have here? The slut found herself a new victim, after all.”

  “What the fuck did you just say?” I growl, my voice morphing into both mine and H’s combined. The red slams down across my vision so hard I physically stumble under the force. Vic is throwing off the mattress before I’ve gathered my wits, revealing Kenzie in all her disheveled glory. He doesn’t get the chance to reach down and jerk her to her feet. Instead, my fingers fist in his blue uniform and I jerk him backward toward the door. “Don’t you fucking touch her, you mewling quim.”

  “FG, calm down,” Kenzie tries, climbing to her feet and slipping her hand into mine. The problem is, my anger is already morphing into something more, something dangerous. When her words don’t seem to have any effect, she changes tactics and smacks me on the arm. “Tell H to calm down, too.”

  Her words reach inside me, and the red fades a little. It doesn’t recede completely, but it’s enough for me to realize how foolish it would be to beat the ever-loving shit out of Vic, the dumbass. The orderly pants against the door jamb, his urge to hit me strong, but his self-preservation wins out. He knows he doesn’t stand a chance. He knows the only thing giving him any power is the fact he has a key dangling from his belt. I could snap his neck if I wanted to, and I desperately want to.

  He will be the first to die.

  “I can’t agree more, H.” The red recedes completely, and I blink away the haze that has started to accompany the feeling.

  “You alright?” Kenzie asks, looking up at me. There’s no judgement there. She doesn’t question my words, or the obvious heavy mood swings I have. I can tell the only reason she stopped me from attacking Vic is because of her worry over my punishment, not because it scared her.

  “Yeah, I’m good.” I glance back at Vic. “He won’t be, though, if he calls you a slut again.”

  “It’s fine,” Kenzie tries to push it aside, but I know it bothers her, and I won’t let some tiny-dicked orderly make her feel like she’s anything less than perfect.

  “It’s not fine.” My lips curl up, and I take a step closer to Vic again. Kenzie’s fingers in mine hold me back. “You’re lucky she’s here to stop me,” I growl, and my voice is a mixture of two. It echoes in the room, forcing goosebumps to raise even on my arms. I can’t imagine what Vic must feel like as his hand starts to shake.

  “You’re both going to be put on lockdown. Mackenzie, get out.”

  “I want to talk to Danny.”

  “Too fucking bad. Go to your quarters. You’re on lockdown until you learn your lesson.”

  Kenzie bristles, and it’s my turn to hold her in place. “And what is that lesson?” she growls.

  I narrow my eyes on Vic, and he shifts uncomfortably on his feet. He’s thinking about his words, and I can tell how much he really wants to say something insulting, maybe tell Kenzie not to spread her legs, but instead, he straightens and tries to look bigger again. The effect is lost with the obvious nervousness rolling off him.

  “The rules have to be followed, obviously,” he growls.

  Kenzie raises her brows and finally releases my hand. She turns to meet my eyes, smiles reassuringly at me, and takes a few steps toward the door.

  “You will be fine,” I say, but it’s not just my words. It’s H, too, and Kenzie seems to realize that. She nods her head and strides from the room, turning left and heading toward her own bed. I don’t know how long lockdown is going to last, but I have a feeling I won’t enjoy it. Vic is out of my room faster than Kenzie took, slamming the door behind him. Only then does he look in through my window and sneer at me.

  “You’re going to pay for this, Straight Jacket.”

  I roll my eyes. “Sure I will, Eight-zero-zero-eight. Sure I will.”

  He slams his fist against the door in a show of false strength and locks it, leaving me alone in my messy room. I grin. Not because I’m happy to be locked up, but because I rattled the poor idiot.

  The first to die, indeed. H knows what he’s talking about.

  * * *

  /-/-/-/

  * * *

  Vic makes it his personal mission to enforce the lockdown, and no one questions it because we broke the rules. No one asked how Kenzie got into my room in the first place, and I didn’t open my mouth to say a word. Dr. Yoon came by at one point and instructed me that I need to read the welcome packet again which holds at the rules. I simply smiled and told her I’d be sure to read the paperwork, and as soon as she left, I slid the folder back onto the desk and out of sight. Call me an idiot for not getting all the information, but it didn’t feel important, not when being on lockdown meant not seeing Kenzie.

  Our rooms are on opposite sides of Whisperwood. My room is in the temporary wing and resembles more of a basic hotel room than anything else. Kenzie stays in the permanent wing, and I’m sure it feels a little more like a prison over there. Lockdown means we don’t get to leave the room for any reason. Normally, I’d be okay with the solitude. Enforced avoidance of people? Sign me up! But enforced separation from Kenzie? I’m finding it’s starting to eat away at me by day two.

  First off, my food returns to the horrible inedible mush like I’d gotten the first day. I don’t even attempt to eat it, pushing it aside. My stomach isn’t happy, but I have a feeling I won’t die of starvation. Besides, H told me as much.

  The first twenty-four hours is relatively easy except for some light nightmares. Day two is when the shit hits the fan. I can’t seem to stop sweating; my standard issue clothing is soaked far faster than it’s ever been. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think I’m getting the flu, but that can’t be right.

  ‘Tis the plague. Not the flu, boy.

  “We don’t have the plague anymore. We wiped it out.”

  What a time to be alive.

  I snort and start to pace along the floor. My eyebrow won’t stop twitching, and I have the sudden urge to strip all my clothes off.

  We could just bust the door down.

  “That seems counter-productive. We need them to let us out, so we can spend time with Kenzie.”

  We will take her with us when we break out. But I am not strong enough, yet. Soon.

  “You keep saying that. Does ‘soon’ have a date?”

  Yes.

  I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t, and I sigh. He won’t tell me more until he’s ready. It sucks having a guy stuck inside my head because I can’t beat him up for being an asshole. I can’t even tune him out. The prick shows up no matter the time of day or my desires. Fucking Harold.

  My name is not Harold.

  “Whatever, Harold.”

  Another tray of inedible slime gets pushed through a slot in the door, and I curl up my lip. “Don’t even bother bringing that nasty shit!” I shout through the door.

  “State mandates you’re offered food. If you go more than five days without eating, we get to force a feeding tube down your throat.” It’s Vic. Of course, it is.

  “I got something you can shove down your throat, guy.”

  I can literally feel his anger through the door, and it gives me a small shred of happiness. Fucking with him has become my pastime. Only one more day to go, one more day to survive, and then I can see Kenzie again and hopefully, get some decent food. I hope she’s faring better th
an I am.

  “I can’t wait until they lock you up and throw away the key.”

  “Sure, sure.” I don’t tell him I can’t wait for him to be dead. That probably isn’t the most sane thing to say to your jailkeeper. It seems like a good way to get my current punishment extended, actually.

  That night is when the real trouble starts.

  I lay my head down to go to sleep, falling easiy into peaceful rest, but that’s where everything changes. My nightmares have always felt like memories since H showed up. They’ve always felt a little too real, but before, I was just there, like I was watching a movie and couldn’t look away. This time, when I slip under, it feels different. Suddenly, I’m not a bystander. Suddenly, I’m the one in the movie.

  Screams fill the air, a panic so palpable I can taste it on my tongue. The village around me doesn’t feel like it’s from my time. Instead, it feels old, small, even the air feels cleaner in my lungs. The details are too clear, different than my other dreams. Somewhere in the distance, a horse whinnies in panic, its own fear adding to the atmosphere.

  What are they all afraid of? Who are they afraid of?

  It isn’t until I’m walking through the village with an axe clutched between my fingers that I realize they’re afraid of me.

  “Go back to whatever hell you came from, devil!” The man who shouts at me runs from an open doorway, a pitchfork raised high in threat. I don’t even twitch as I cut his head from his body, the soft thunk of it hitting the ground sending a gross satisfaction through me. His blood coats my leather shoes, even as I walk away from his body, even as I’ve already forgotten his death.

  “You will all die at my hands,” I say, spilling more blood, killing without mercy, adding more to my collection. “You will all perish for what you’ve done.”

  The words come from my lips, but they feel foreign. No, they’re not just mine. They’re H’s. What did they do to him to elicit this massacre? Who would dare to wrong him? Or maybe he wasn’t wronged at all. Maybe he means their sins.

  A woman stumbles from behind a building and screams. In her arms, she carries a small bundle, the babe crying with the tension. I lift my axe, but I pause. As she begs for mercy for her child, her green eyes slam into me, the tears falling down her face forcing emotion into my chest. Emotion I don’t want, but I refuse to push away.

  “Please have mercy,” she cries. “Take me but spare my child.”

  “Why should your child be spared? She is not innocent. No one is born innocent.” I don’t plan to harm the child, but the woman doesn’t know that.

  “Mercy,” she begs again, dropping to her knees.

  I stare at the woman for a moment longer before I bypass her for no other reason than her eyes speak to me, bring up memories of long-ago love, and my thirst for blood is easily quenched with the blood of the rest of the village.

  No other mortal is spared. Nothing is left unbathed in red. And as screams fill the air, fire following in my wake, I laugh, and laugh, and laugh.

  The Headless Horseman is coming. . .

  * * *

  When I stumble out of bed on the third day, I can’t tell what’s real or what’s imagined, and when I stare at the shatterproof mirror, for a moment, I can’t even remember my name.

  I can’t remember my name. . .

  Chapter 12

  Kenzie

  A knock at the door has me groaning. I’ve been on lock down enough times in my life to not bother keeping track of the days. I don’t even ask how long the punishment is anymore; knowing only gives me something to look forward to, something to count. And that feeling? It draws out the torture more than anything—as intended—and I refuse to give them the satisfaction.

  “I’m coming in,” an all too familiar voice calls before the door swings open. Danny’s footsteps echo across the tile floor as he approaches the bed. “Get your ass up, little girl. You look pitiful.”

  “I still don’t want to talk to you,” I snap, rolling over onto my back so I can glare at him where he looms above me from the side of the bed.

  “I don’t care. Get up. I know Vic has been a pain in your ass these past three days. He insisted on being the one to attend to you two while you were on lock down. You looking all beat down is just going to give that prick what he wants.” Danny rips the blanket off me, and I screw my face up into something which must amuse him, because he laughs. “I thought you might not like that.”

  “I don’t like being bothered. Get out of my room!” I snarl.

  “The tough girl act doesn’t work with me, kid. You forget how long I’ve known you.” Danny taps his forehead and images drift through my mind.

  My first night at Whisperwood, Danny was the only one who’d speak to me. I was the youngest resident back then, and terrified. No one here knew what to do with a kid accused of murder. Manslaughter. Murder. What’s the difference, honestly? People died, and it was my fault. And it had gotten me stuck here for the rest of my fucking life.

  When Danny’s wife, Gina, came to work at Whisperwood, and she started giving me food that didn’t suck the life out of me.

  When I got into my first fight with some older roomer for trying to grope me, and Danny stood up for me to the director.

  The time Danny found me crying in my bathroom, wishing I could die because I knew I’d never have a life like the ones I read about in my books.

  “I know you, Kenzie. I feel like I’ve raised you—”

  “You have,” I whisper, wiping at my nose while I sniffle. “I just wish you weren’t so against Crane.”

  “I don’t want you to get hurt, girl,” Danny sighs, dragging a hand down his face. I swing my legs over the side of the bed, raising up to look him in the face more comfortably. “The boy’s dangerous. The things Yoon said about him—”

  “Things she isn’t supposed to share with you.”

  “She can share as much information as she feels is necessary for me to keep the residents of his institution safe. That includes you, young lady,” he growls.

  “He’s not dangerous to me.”

  “I believe you. You’re not dumb, and I should have asked you instead of making demands. You’re not my kid, I don’t have any right to butt into your private business. Though, how you manage to keep having private business in this place is freaking beyond me.”

  I cover my smile with my hand, looking away from him. Danny has always been impressed by my tricks. “It definitely helps when the lazy staff forgets to lock doors,” I point out with an accusing grin.

  “I’m getting old, must have forgotten—”

  I throw my arms around his neck, hugging him for a moment. I haven’t hugged him in a long time—it’s not appropriate and all that—but this feels . . . necessary. “Thank you for always being there, for always looking out for me. I’m sorry we fought.”

  “Oooh weeee,” Danny laughs, patting my back awkwardly. “Someone’s been paying attention in group therapy. Just wait ‘til I tell Gina you’re finally letting the wackadoctors rub off on you.”

  “Ha. Ha. Ha.” I let him go, narrowing my eyes on the wily old man. He really is getting older. I hadn’t noticed how much he’s changed over the years until he said it. Somewhere over the past few years, Danny has changed from the just-a-little-bit-older man who looked out for me, to someone who looks like they will be retiring soon.

  I don’t know what I’ll do when he retires. I’ve never been here without him before. Holding my elbow, trying my hardest to brush off the overwhelming sadness washing over me, I force a smile on my face and wiggle my eyebrows at my old friend. “Did you get me in time for breakfast?”

  “Yes,” he chuckles. “And Gina has something special for you, today. Better run before Mitzy tries to talk her out of it.”

  I fake a gasp, jogging toward the door. Mitzy would never, but the thought is amusing.

  * * *

  /-/-/-/

  * * *

  I stare at the tray of food, salivating over what looks like ac
tual, real life cheesecake. Every year at the holiday party, Whisperwood caters in amazing food and the staff dresses up like waiters in a fancy restaurant. There are decorations and music, and we get to stay up past curfew, but the best part is always the desserts. Cheesecake has always been my favorite. Apparently, Gina loves me, because not only is it cheesecake—and Christmas nowhere in sight—but it has blackberry sauce. I lick my lips, preparing to eat the dessert first, when Mitzy smacks my hand.

  “Eat the real food, first!” She points at my plate accusingly, and I roll my eyes, searching the crowd for Crane. Mitzy can be annoying when she’s lucid. “I mean it.”

  “You’re mad at me for getting locked up again, huh?”

  “You know I am. The spies have been ridiculous since you’ve been gone,” she huffs, popping a nearly burned chicken nugget in her mouth.

  “I’m sorry! It’s not like I wanted to be locked in my room for days.” I roll my eyes, begrudgingly eating a spoonful of mashed potatoes while she lectures me.

  “Yes, but, it’s because you’re sleeping with the spy.”

  “I’m not sleeping with the—I’m not sleeping with FG. Stop calling him a spy, Mitz. He’s one of us, they aren’t ever gonna let him out of here.”

  I don’t know what makes me turn around and look over my shoulder. I’m not sure if it’s the way everyone at the table goes quiet, or the hairs rising on the back of my neck, but when I look, I see Crane, staring at me with a slack jaw.

  “Oh h-hi,” I stutter, trying to recover from the awkward moment.

  “Hi,” he whispers and sits down beside me in a rush. “So, I’m never getting out of here, huh?”

  “You weren’t supposed to hear that,” I whine, burying my face in my hands.

  Between my fingers, I see Crane swell up for a moment and then deflate, all in an instant. “It’s fine. Is this like, insider information, or just your personal opinion?”