My return to work was dissatisfying. Matilda had talked to Quintrell and set me up to care for another patient as my practice. As Quintrell put it, "someone more docile."
"Certain patients need a tougher hand to keep them alive." He said before being sent on my way. Maybe he needed the opposite? I kept my mouth shut, it was my second day at work and I was already in trouble. I'm no doctor, I'll leave it up to him to understand what the patients needed.
"My name is Mae." I introduced myself to the patient in the waiting room, it looked almost identical to the dinning room. He was an elderly gentleman, lived one hundred and fifty solstices according to the paperwork Quintrell gave me.
"Hello, dear." He mumbled. Half of his mouth smiles, the other was unmoving. The right side of his face drooped and the other half still had life. He said his name but I couldn't make it out. I contemplated asking him again. I hesitated, it might have been rude but he read me like a book. "You can call me Max."
"Hi Max, I'm going to take you for your daily walks."
"Good, good. Time to… stretch my legs." He stood with difficulty, He groaned with every movement he made. I jolted forward and held his arm, helping him so that he doesn't fall. He gave me another smile when he gained balance and could stand on his own.
"You ready?" He asked. I opened my map that Quintrell had drawn up for me to direct me out of this maze.
"Looking for the garden?" Max asked.
"Yes, I can't figure out where I am. I've been following Matilda without paying attention."
Max pointed with knotty joints at the waiting room.
"We're in this first building. This second building… Over here. Is the bath house." He slid his finger south, "connected to the bath house is the wash room."
With his arm around mine for support we made our way to the garden where patients were left to wander aimlessly without guidance, it was clear that the caretakers didn't take Quintrell seriously.
The same rock eating patient from yesterday had bloodied his teeth with rocks yet again.
"I'll be right back." I said to Max and guided the rock eating patient to the berries. I watched as the delicious leaf awakened surprise in his eyes as if it was the first time. As he had done yesterday, he searched for more beans and leaves.
I noticed Max staring at me, he had a content look his face, I noticed a few other caretakers giving me odd looks as if kindness was a foreign action here.
"You did that yesterday, too." Max said.
"I did."
"That was very kind of you."
"It's not kindness if I'm being paid for it." I couldn't help but hate myself. There was something more I should be doing and it shouldn't be this difficult to figure out.
Together Max and I walked about the ill-treated garden. The bushes had long weeds pointing out and dead brush wasn't clipped to be thrown away. We traveled through many buildings but Max stopped me at the east wing dorms.
"I don't want to take you in there." He turned around taking us back to the dining hall.
"Why not?" I asked. Sorrow drooped the other half of his face.
"Oh… I… I don't know how much Quintrell wants you to see on your first week." He silently answered. I could only hear half of what he said but got the idea.
"What do you mean?" Matilda gave me a shotty tour of the area, leaving much up to the imagination.
"We're going to be late for lunch! I can't miss a meal… I'll fade away!" He chuckled as he shuffled back the direction we came. He was trying to shy away from my question. He was hurting, I noticed him wincing. His joints popped, and the sun was doing a number on his skin. I let it go, leaving the mystery of the dorms as an image in my head.
"I hope you don't mind me saying this… But, you're not what I imagined the insane to be." I might sound ignorant, but this man needed a hospital not an asylum.
"Because I'm not insane."
"But this is the asylum… Why would they house a sane person?" He looked at me with deep eyes that have known disappointment. He waited to answer my question when we entered the asylum and found a place to sit in the dining hall.
"My wife passed three solstices ago…" He began his tale, I sat opposite from him. I studied his lips so I wouldn't miss a single mumbled detail. "I became distraught as any old man would. Shortly after her death I had a stroke. I-uh, couldn't move… My legs lost their mobility, I couldn't feel my hands. My children decided I was a nuisance and a burden on their banks from the hospital bills. They admitted me here to save their gold…" Maxs voice wavered, his tear duct became shiny and wet. He lowered his voice and waited for other caretakers to pass him. "They had me stuck in a bed for weeks until I recovered… If the stroke was any worse, I would have died from infection."
Tears trickled the edges of his eyes. I reached for his hand and held it tightly for comfort.
Goddessa, please show mercy on him.
"I'm so sorry…" Why did he tell me this? I'm a caretaker, after all. I wouldn't blame him for hating me and any employees bearing the name.
This story answered my questions to the evil stares from the patients and the odd look they gave me when I helped or showed the slightest hint of kindness.
"You're different." He broke my train of thought, he wiped his eyes with the tips of his fingers. "When you walked with me you gave me your arm. The others, they pushed me, they made me struggle to walk alone…" His head hung and my heart dropped. How cruel. "It's a tough time to be old."
This job, this place, destroyed souls and broke hearts. Whatever happened, I couldn't let this place kill what made me human.
I returned home again, feeling no more accomplished than I did yesterday. The only badge of honor I could bring home is that I wouldn't let that place turn me into Matilda, or any of the others.
I kept Dodger close to me, he sat on my lap as I read him his favorite book, a little goblin story. His sweaty head stuck to my chest and I watched his round tummy move up and down as he snored. The sound of his snoozing was calming, I focused on it, letting it calm my anxiety. Daniel was gone again, thankfully. I had no intentions to forgive what he had done.
I let the candle burn out on its own so that I didn't rouse Dodger, an excuse to hide the truth that I was paralyzed with fear. I pretended to sleep and ignored the chill in my spine and the eyes that burned a hole into the back of my head.
~~
The next day I met Max in the waiting room, took his arm in mine and walked about the garden. The rocks beneath our feet crunched and the wind howled. Max was wrapped in a blanket that I brought from home since the asylum doesn't prioritize the patients.
"She was as radiant as the stars…" Max spun tales about meeting his wife. "We were in an arranged marriage, but I knew I loved her. She was kind, like you are."
His compliment made heat flush to my cheeks.
"She thought of herself only when everyone else was taken care of." He said.
"Sounds like love at first sight."
"If only it was true for her." He chuckled as he reminisced. "We were so young, and there was a life out there that she was afraid she'd miss if she married me. Although it was an arranged marriage I wanted her to love me back. I won her over by introducing her to the world. We traveled a lot. Went on the, uh, the big ships and sailed to beautiful islands. One of the islands, Ta'Hi'Hai, had bananas the size of my arm. They tasted like the inside of a slug's asshole."
He shivered at the thought of the taste and I laughed.
"Ugh, awful stuff." There was a short pause, I yearned for more of his delightful stories.
"I, uh, I loved the babies," He said. "My favorite memory is, uh, my stubble would grow in and I'd tickle their tummies with it. They called my hairs, tickle prickles."
"That's adorable," I smiled as he regaled me but I felt a sense of sorrow taking over.
"They were so innocent then…" His voice wavered. "You'd think that after all those years I spent wiping their asses that they'd wipe my ass once or twice. No… Selfishness is a deadly disease."
The remainder of our walk was spent in silence. My mind wandered, Max was so sweet. The way he spoke of his children sounded like they had a fulfilled childhood. Why did they choose a life of leisure instead of helping their dear father that dedicated his life to raising them? Maybe the asylum lied about their program. The entrance hall was clearly decorated to misconstrue new people.
I took Max to the dining hall for lunch and grabbed his meal for him. Mushy dumplings in paper mache water again.
"Don't they ever cook anything different?" I set the plate in front of Max. I wouldn't dare touch this junk. I was thankful Mother made me cookies and I've packed them tightly in the pocket of my dress.
"Hah. We'd be so lucky."
"Why don't they?"
"Funding… Or some other excuse."
"Funding is certainly the root of most issues around here, isn't it? And the main foyer is decorated with elaborate paintings and golden fabric."
"Marble isn't cheap either." He said.
"They probably had plenty of funding, they just spent it all on the main foyer."
"Or…" Max began but stayed silent when a caretaker drew near. When he rounded the far side of the dinning room Max talked. "They haul all kinds of stuff over there…"
Max pointed his fork towards the kitchen.
"I thought they didn't make anything other than this glop?" Max had plopped a large slimy piece of dumpling and the glob hadn't splattered. The creamy substance wasn't cream, more like glue.
"No, behind the kitchen… There is a larger section to the asylum that's all locked up. All that I've ever seen go in that direction hasn't ever come back out."
"Mae!" I jumped at Matilda's firm voice. She power walked into the dining room. My heart began beating viciously, had I done something wrong? My mind raced with thoughts of all the things she would be screaming at me for.
"We need your help catching one of the patients…"
"Who's going to watch these patients…"
"Who cares?" She snapped. "This patient believes she can fly. She escaped to the garden and has hidden in the bushes. We're trying to flank her but there's an opening she can easily get through, we need you to guard that opening so she can't escape."
We exited out the back door, down the path past the buildings and into the fenced off garden.
"She's in those bushes!" She pointed to a wild tangle of trees, vines, and bushes. Two other caretakers, two men, waited patiently before advancing her. Each of them carried a thin stick. Matilda had two of her own and handed one to me. "Before she gets by you, whip her. We need to teach these patients they can't fool with us."
I dumbfoundedly grabbed the stick with no intentions to harm anyone. There must be a better way to lure her out. I made my way around the other end as Matilda had quietly explained. There was a small opening for her to crawl through and there were a pair of bare feet, they were browned with dirt, green with grass stains and red from deep gashes on the soles. She wore the usual uniform but hers had splotches of dark red. She didn't deserve more beatings, she deserved sympathy.
The patient cooed and flapped her hands like a bird desperately trying to fly. Despite Matilda's commands I had come up with a humane way of luring her from the bushes.
My father taught me a little trick when I was a child, a whistle that sounded like a pigeon's call. I folded one hand over the other with a deep space between my palms and a small gash between my thumbs. I placed my lips over the gap and blew. The first attempt was a pathetic sputtering noise that wetted my thumbs. It took a few practice attempts before the deep coo caught her attention.
Her feet pointed towards me and the bushes rustled. I whistled again. She coed in reply but stayed put.
"What the hell is that noise?" I identified the caretaker voice to a man named Evan. He peeked around the bushes and saw me on my knees whistling back to the patient. "What are you doing?"
"Shhh!" I sent him a scowl. I took out a cookie that mother baked. I broke it in half and placed it in the opening within her reach but far enough away that she must move from her spot to take it.
"What in the hells are you doing!" Matilda stormed at me. I scowled at her too and shushed her. She shut her trap but griped to my small audience of caretakers.
I cooed again, she leapt for the cookie and I put another one on the ground, inching closer and closer. Another cookie went down, she grabbed it. She was within reach of me. I could easily grab her arm and drag her out but that was what Matillda wanted. I put a cookie in my hand and waited for her to grab me. I puckered my lips and blew. A sweet twittering whistle got her to inch a bit closer to me. She swiftly nabbed another cookie and pecked at it like a bird.
My arm was shaking as it began to cramp up as I waited for her trust to build between us, but I stayed my hand because she might get startled.
I hadn't replaced the cookie but left my hand extended.
"I'm not going to let them hurt you." I wasn't sure she would take my hand, but in a instant her icey hands clung to my arm and I quickly wrapped her in my embrace. Her frame seemed tiny even compared to my own, but I protected her like I was the biggest dog in the yard.
Matilda rolled her eyes, but the caretaker Evan seemed impressed.
We entered the asylum and she hadn't loosened her grip on my arm, she trembled from fear and the cold. I wrapped her tightly in the thickest blanket I found in the closet and took her to the dinning hall.
"I know it's not appetizing but it's hot. It'll warm you right up." I placed the messy glop in front of her. The smell of it caused her to pull away from it. "This is all I have for food…"
Staring at the last four cookies in my bag made my stomach grumble but I wasn't forced to eat this awful stuff. "Here. Eat this. You need food. You're tinier than a hummingbird."
The cookies almost became a crumbled mess by how quickly she tried to grab them. She would have eaten them from my hand if that was her only solution. Her look of satisfaction was worth the hunger pains.
~~
Matilda rounded up the patients with her brutish charm and frightful grace. I stayed back to help a few of the elder patients to stand. Matilda stopped me before I left the door.
"Stay here, wipe down the tables." She threw a rag to me-more specifically, she chucked it at my face. I caught it before it made contact with my eyeballs.
As I wiped down my last table Quintrell entered.
"Spick and span." He wiped the top of a table that was closest to him and examined the tip of his finger. "Your duties are done, you may go home."
"Thank you...Any news on the comfort closet." I slightly chuckled as if we agreeded on a name already.
Quintrell lost his smile.
"I'm sorry, Mae. The church doesn't want to spend money on closest in the dining room when we have many throughout the asylum."
"What if, before sending them here we can set up certain chairs with soft seats and reserve them for the elder patients?"
"Mae… Understand that not everyone wants to do that every day. We would be spending our mornings preparing pillows on seats and lose time to focus on more important things."
"But if we set them up once-"
"We can't do everything when we're understaffed, Mae. Pillows on seats are the least of our concerns. I'm sorry, but you must harden your resolve for this job. These patients aren't human like we are. They don't care for pillows on seats." Quintrell left it at that and exited the room while I stood like a bumbling idiot. I couldn't speak, I couldn't protest. My words stuck in my throat and all I wanted was to go home and hide underneath my blanket.
~~
I dreaded going back already, I wasn't even home and I hated the thought that I'd return. But I had to go back. Those patients needed me and I hadn't learned anything about the odd happenings of weird ghosts showing up in my home. Was I even looking in the right direction?
I had hoped mother would be making dinner already but I was not greeted with wonderous smells of spices, and not even the burnt smell of fats and grease blackened onto a skillet.
Dodger's little feet pattered down the hall. He threw himself into my dress.
"I'm hungry," he said. His words were muffled as he had a mouthful of my dress.
"You haven't eaten?" My stomach ached and my head spun. I hadn't eaten since this morning. I was too weak to make any food.
"Grandma was really tired after she picked me up from school. Her and Daniel are asleep."
"Great…" I was fortunate enough to avoid Daniel. Just thinking about him made a raging fire of anger burn inside me. It was awful that Daniel raised his fist to Dodger, but he hadn't made an effort to amend his actions and that made my anger grow with each passing day. He has been avoiding us and taking extra action to be away from home when I'm not working.
The door to our bedroom opened. My heart jumped inside my throat. Please, let it be mother.
Daniel had wobbled into the living room. His neck was still bandaged from my teeth. He glared at me and shook his head then went back in the bedroom. He looked at me as if I had done wrong. I bit him, yes. But he deserved it.
I was tired, hungry, and mentally drained. I fought through my unwillingness to cook because Dodger needed to eat. Dinner was made simple by tossing potatoes and sausage in a broth and cream concoction with salt and pepper sprinkled on top. The steam cleared out my sinuses, and my worries flushed out of my system.
I was shocked out of my daze when a book flew from the bookshelf and pounded against the floor.
"Dodger, don't throw books!" I thought I had seen a brown curly head behind the couch.
"I'm right here."
I turned towards the opposite corner. Dodger was curled up in a ball safely by my side. I stared back at the bookshelf and the top of the head was gone.
"I didn't mean to yell at you, honey."
"I know," Dodger said, his voice wavering.
I felt an impending fear in my chest that felt as a tight knot wrapping around my lungs. Thoughts ran through my head and I couldn't tame them. What if the creature was still there? What if I just imagined it? If I stood and a book waited on the floor behind the couch it would confirm my fear.
It wasn't real. But would that mean I was going crazy? If the book lied on the floor then a different fear would be fabricated meaning I wasn't insane. Both sides of the coin was terrifying.
I lifted myself from the floor and rounded the couch with caution.
The book was there on the floor, pages bent underneath the cover. The paper felt real underneath my fingertips as I picked it up. The cover was course and the lettering was smooth, how could this be a figment of my imagination if I was crazy?
I put it back on the shelf only for it to fall at my feet. I tried putting it back one more time. A few seconds passed, and nothing happened. I rounded the couch hoping it was over but my racing heart wasn't convinced.
Paper whistled in the wind, I ducked and a book slammed against the wall and fell to the floor. Another, with rustling pages was tossed in my direction and flailed across the room. I hid behind the side of the couch when another book bounced off the back and landed perfectly on my head while countless others were being chucked at the wall behind me. I shielded my head and stayed away from Dodger believing I was the target.
How many damn books did we have?
It seemed a countless amount flew over my head but briefly ended.
I was too scared to look over the arm of the couch. What if there were more books?
With my hand before my face, prepared to catch a book I stood. The shelf was empty.
"Are you hurt?" I asked Dodger. He shook his head but stayed in his curled position. "I'm not going to touch those books."
I left them in disarray with bent spines and crimped pages.
"Let's eat." I said. Breaking the frightening silence helped calm my nerves. I made a trip to the kitchen and grabbed two wooden bowls. I turned my back to retrieve the eating utensils and something rumbled against the counter. One of the bowls I had left spun in circles until it was an inch from the counter I pushed it back a bit and stared like it was a starving animal about to eat me. What the hell was going on?
When I returned to the fireplace Dodger hadn't moved from his spot. Something was wrong other than the other people.
"Dodger…" I bent over and caressed his head. "Did something happen today?"
Dodger hadn't said anything. He uncurled himself and clung to my neck. I hugged him until he spoke.
"I'm afraid…" He spoke with a squeak.
"The other people won't hurt you, Dodger. I'm going to protect you."
"No, they can't hurt me…"
"Is it Mnakaraneh? Did he do something?"
"No…"
"Then what?"
"It's Daniel."
How foolish of me. Dodger might have been with my mother, but Daniel had beaten Dodger in front of me. I underestimated what he was capable of and that was dangerous.
I hadn't forgiven Daniel for being abusive, but Dodger was his target. We were surrounded by ghosts tossing books through the air, creepy apparitions that stared at us in the dark, and a demon that wanted to hurt me and Dodger was afraid of my husband. Dodger might not heal from the physical abuse.
"He won't hurt you again. If he does I'll kill him." My words seemed to slip out of my mouth on their own accord. I surprised myself with how dark that came out. But I was frightened too, I couldn't stop shaking and nothing that was happening was normal. I was lost, confused, broke as all hell, and I didn't have anyone to run to.