Thankfully I was not assigned to Quintrells "therapy." His intentions must have been to teach me a lesson, a lesson well taught. He signed me up with Max again having confidence I would obey my supervisors instructions.
As it was last night, the sky was clear but the wind had a chilling bite to it; it stung my eyes as Max and I took our morning stroll. Tears gathered in my eyes. I swallowed a lump that gathered in my throat and disguised my sniffling with a sneeze, pretending like I had a cold.
"You're usually not this quiet." Max said.
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to be a bore."
"Not a bore, my dear, I'm concerned. Your eyes are red, are you ok?" I wanted to say yes. I refused to look at his kind eyes.
"When you told me I was different – kind and understanding, I took that as a badge of honor. Something to help me get through the day. Yesterday…" I choked, thinking about what I've done shamed me. "I was helping Quintrell with an experiment or therapy session, whatever he called it. I wanted to do the right thing and tell him to shove it. But he told me that if I didn't I wouldn't have a job."
My lip quivered. I wiped tears away as I continued. Releasing my frustrations and sorrow lifted a weight off my chest, but it made me realize how much I have been through.
I explained my unfortunate experience at Lady Deinan's garden to give him insight on why respectable jobs were out of my reach.
"I'm in so much debt, I ruined my opportunity to work at an honorable job. My husband resorted to gambling and my family was threatened by people he's taken money from. I wanted to walk away but I didn't and I tortured those people so I could keep a job I hate, the only job that will give us any financial relief."
Max wrapped his frail arms around my shoulders and I leaned into his embrace.
"Nothing is truly good, Mae. I know you try and you help people in need, but in an imperfect world there are bad decisions and worse ones. You either stay true to your code of goodness and lose your job creating problems for your family; or you break and do wrong to strangers who should mean nothing to you and save your family." Max paused, it pained him to think the only kindness he had seen in this desolate building was about to be extinguished. "Can you live with the destruction within yourself? Or the destruction that will pull your family further apart? Each decision will kill a part of you but you must accept the decision you make."
He pulled away from me and wiped the tears from my eyes with his thumbs and cradled my face in his hands. His own eyes reflected sadness. "Protect what you love, I wouldn't choose us against my family. Even though it was my kids who threw me in here they are still my family."
His response did not console me, I don't believe it was intended to. Hearing his approval gave me some semblance of acceptance. I must survive this place and still be virtuous, there has to be a way. I would like to believe that the goddess sent me here to act as her mercy.
I couldn't let this creature, Mnakaraneh, continue to ruin my family. I needed answers, and with that my family would return to its non-violent, yet still dysfunctional selves. I refused to leave when all fingers pointed to this place and I haven't learned anything.
Max tightened his hold on my arm for emotional support as we walked. We continued our routine and ended our session in the dining room. I handed him his food and mentally prepared for another demeaning task assigned by Matilda.
The door to the hallway opened and Evan leads in a patient that was admitted into the asylum today. Evan was the only caretaker that hadn't scowled at me when I found an innovative idea for a humane answer.
"Sit here." He told the black-haired patient. The man keept his widened eyes glued to his feet. Evan grabbed a bowl of food and set it in front of the new patient. He was then detained to prevent a patient from tossing food at another.
The man had stubble growing from his cheeks to his chin, and something about the horror written across his face seemed frightfully familiar to me.
I knew him.
Not taking my eyes off the black frazzled-haired man, I advanced Evan.
"Evan, who is that?" I asked, pointing at the patient.
"Him? Some lowlife shmuck. He was wandering the streets screaming about all the dead people he saw. Said that a little boy trapped his soul between this world and the land of the dead. As if Godius and Goddessa would allow such a power to exist."
The man peered up from his seemingly entrancing toes and saw me. His wide eyes amazingly grew bigger and his mouth stretched with fear. I froze in my spot as he screamed with a blood curdling tone. Chairs tumbled out of his way, tables were overturned, anything in his path was tossed to the floor as he fled.
Evan jumped to action and a few other caretakers chased after him, confining him in a straight-jacket and then forced him out of the room.
That was Dom. He was considered completely sane until he touched Dodger. He claimed to see the dead, now he was here. What happened? Was it Dodgers fault this was happening to us?
No, this wasn't Dodgers fault, it couldn't be.
I walked back to Max's table and sat next to him.
"Max…" I thought for a second before speaking. Who better to get answers from than someone who was a patient? "How many of these patients claim to see the dead?"
He stopped eating and thought with a worried look in his eyes.
"I believe everyone."
"What do you think of people that can see the dead? The patients, the ones who claim to see the dead, do you think they're insane regardless of Godius' promise to hold our souls dear?" Max chuckled at first, then noticed the seriousness in my face.
"Well- Seeing the dead is against our religion, but the few patients that I've met who claim to see the dead certainly appear normal… except for the- well never mind."
"Max tell me… Please!" I begged him. Max pointed to the eldest patient in the room. The first man I cared for when I came here. "When he came to the asylum he was talking about more than ghosts. He muttered about dragon people for weeks until he suddenly went quiet."
"Dragon people?" I asked.
"Nobody knows what it meant, but Quintrell didn't like it. I could see the concern on his face. He had the old man admitted into the lab and when he came back he stopped talking."
"Anyone else?"
"The redheaded boy over there." He pointed. "He was admitted here before me, but from our conversations he has more life than any patient that claims to see the dead. Quintrell never took him back to the lab but I know they had a talk and after that the boy stopped trying to cause a ruckus about the dead. They definitely have a fear about them that's indescribable."
"What caused them to see the dead?"
"I don't know…" He shrugged his shoulders. "I never bothered to ask. They're crazy, according to the asylum and our religion. Then again, look at me, look where I am."
I insisted on knowing about the others. He seemed to hesitate then pointed them out. One was a woman who held onto a pillow for dear life and, from the few days I've been here, she treated it like a baby.
"She's ridden with shock, not insanity. She's new here." Max said. He pointed at a few others, all of them had terror in their eyes and scars on their necks, wrists and any part of their body that showed skin. Those were faces that had seen torture and war, they weren't on a mindless journey through insanity.
"Most of them are normal people. Some have been paralyzed by fear and refuse to talk, some have starved themselves to death, and others… Well…" He made a slicing motion at his wrists.
"I'm going to talk to them." I stood to make my way to the redhead. He, out of them all, seemed the most put together. Max grabbed my wrist.
"They won't talk to you, Mae. You're a caretaker… and, from what you witnessed I hope you can understand why we aren't too keen on helping."
"… I know. Max, my son can see thin…"
"No, stop talking." He shook his hand as signal to keep quiet, he lowered his eyes to his bowl and whirred his spoon around the pale mush.
Matilda passed the table at a sideways glance and glared at me. I don't know how much she heard, but she heard something or could tell from my restless attitude of learning something. Max play-acted eating and remained silent, pretending that he couldn't see her.
I waited for her to pass before I leaned into the table and whispered to Max.
"Can you talk to him for me?"
"What?" His brows furrowed.
"Please, Max? My son needs help. I would rather slit my wrists than watch him rot in here."
It took him a minute to decide but he nodded in agreeance.
"For the innocence." He said. "Word of advice, Mae. Nobody you know can see the dead. Whatever it was, it was a trick the neighbors played on you or some hallucination." He waved his knotty finger at me, they were wrinkled with age and his nails were yellow. "You got that!"
He spoke a little louder after I agreed. He stood from his metal chair and walked away. "I can't believe people would play such an awful trick on your son. People…" He grumbled as he shuffled by the redhead but he hadn't stopped. I could tell Max might have said something to him because the redhead tilted his head as he passed by. Subtle, Max was a master.
"Mae!" Matilda shouted to me from across the room. "Come here."
Matilda did not look happy, she suspected something. I readied myself for her rudeness.
"Yes?" I stood before her, my hands clenched at my sides. I tried wiping the sweat off my palms on my dress but they still felt clammy.
"We're assigning the rest of your shift to help the cook, Co'quus." She pointed through the serving window at a tall burly man with a white apron stained gray and had little red splotches. He stood out of sight but I've seen him once or twice as he put food on the counter. He had a large gut that had seen many pints of beer.
"Your duties as a caretaker are over." Matilda finished and left the room, I didn't have time to ask questions. Over? For the day or from now on?
"Come on around!" The burlesque cook said, he popped his round cheeks into the window. "I'll meet you by the door in the hallway and let you in. You'll have a key by tomorrow."
I was standing in the hallway, waiting for the door to swing open. Nothing happened, maybe he didn't know I was here yet? I knocked on the door and it swung open.
"I'm Co'quus, but you may call me Quus." Being closer to him, he wasn't just chunky but built like a brick wall. I was but a fly in comparison. His face glowed red from the heat but patches of skin spotted in little white pimples. A massive white blemish covered in a mountain of irritated red skin protruded from his left temple and I corrected my stare to something else. I would slap myself out of it, but it would be painfully obvious.
"The days already almost over, I won't have time to go over recipes and all that, so I'll give you a tour."
He introduced me to the two stoves with four big pots over the boilers. The rims of the pots were coated with grime and could use a good scrubbing. Counters encompassed the kitchen against every wall and were sprinkled with flour, and bits of dumplings. There were two areas, the prepping area farther in the back with blocks of knives and cutting boards. The other was the cooking section with the stoves and all the seasonings. In the middle of each area was a metal island-counter with shelves beneath it holding dozens of flour bags and crates with potatoes in them and all sorts of dishes.
"Some of these potatoes are rotten." I said
He instantly continued the tour.
"This is the pantry." The cook opened the wooden door revealing cans with black writing on them. Some read beans, others read tomatoes, and others were too far away or facing against the label. He closed it and I followed him elsewhere.
"This is the freezer, we activate a freezing spell twice a day, once in the morning and after we leave. If we don't it'll deactivate and all the meat will spoil." He opened the freezer door and inside was meat lying in boxes, some lie on the floor unprotected.
"Do you use the meat on the floor?" I asked expecting the worst answer but I wanted to believe that they were more sanitary.
"Why not? Meat's meat, these bastards will eat anything." He answered as anyone in this terrible place would.
"They're people!"
"They're insane. Nobody cares about them. This institute is only here because the church funds us through donations that nobody wants their donations to provide."
I was too disgusted to speak.
"I need your helping cleaning. We're getting more patients by the hour, I'm having a hard time keeping up."
He handed me a bristled brush and we scrubbed the floors, the counters, and pots and pans until everything sparkled. My elbows ached, my back had a kink in it, and I was positive Matilda was still punishing me or she overheard me and Max talking and didn't like our conversation. Co'quus dismissed me and I left to pick up Dodger from school then returned home to scrub the pasty white flour from my hair and skin.
~~
I stood awkwardly by the pantry door waiting for direction.
"Here ya' go." Co'quus handed me a medallion no bigger than my palmar flexion creases. Carvings on the coin meant magic and a small hole at the top was meant for a chain.
"What is this?"
"That is a magical item that allows you to use common household magics without needing to tote around a giant spell book. You can activate the fridge, cast light fire spells, and all that fun stuff." He then handed me a piece of crinkled paper folded into what seemed like a million little squares. It was irritating trying to unfold the paper without shredding it into pieces.
"Those are your duties, little miss." Co'quus yelled from the pantry, he kicked open the rectangular opening. He carried three big bags of flour on his shoulder. "You're going to make dumplings for the porridge. We need to prep ahead of time for lunch."
He provided me with his own 'special' recipe. It was flour, water, more flour and more water.
"Can I add some vegetables to this recipe?" I asked. "There's plenty of cans in the back?"
"I'm declining your request because those are for the employees." His tone meant business. He wouldn't change his mind.
I made dozens of batches, throwing the dumplings into boiling gravy that was another "secret recipe" I would soon learn. The gravy I made was brown, not gray. I was too afraid my whole hand would turn gray if I touched it.
"Aha!" The chef shrieked suddenly. I almost shed my skin with fright. He grabbed a big pot and widened his stance and bent his knees. He stared at the floor with the pot turned upside down and held it firmly in both hands.
A little gray mark scampered across the floor and like a panther with the body mass of a hippo the cook pounced on it. His grace was lacking as he plopped to the floor but he his aim was true.
"I gotcha!" He yelled.
He lifted the pot and pulled a rat out by the tail.
"Do you want me to release it past the gate?" I asked, he was busy and might not want to deal with it.
"Release it? Hell no, this is lunch!" He slapped the rat on the counter and with on accurate chop its head plopped off and tumbled to the floor. I dropped the bowl of dumplings and hundreds of little white balls tumbled across the floor. Chunks of my previous meal poured in the closest waste basket as blood dripped from the rats neck. After I gathered my bearings I realized that the container I spilled my guts in was not a waste basket, but a cooking pot. "Gross! Clean up after yourself and pick up those dumplings! They're not going to waste!"
That was gross?
I picked them up and put them back in the bowl as I was commanded. Dead rats aren't as unsanitary as dumplings on the floor so the question of 'are we still cooking these' is dismissed from my mind. He bleeded the rat dry, skinned it, then sectioned it into tiny slices of meat. He diced up the meat then cooked it and tossed it into the mush of dumplings.
My stomach rumbled with sickness, this was worse than plain paper mache.
I reluctantly portioned the porridge into bowls and placed them on the serving window, two at a time. It wasn't until my third trip when I noticed that Dom was staring at me with bloodshot eyes. I shivered with fear and did what I could to ignore it but he continued to stare. Each trip I made to get another set of bowls, he was still there, biting his nails until they bled.
The food was served, everyone had been set. The chef went home, leaving me with the duty to clean up. I scrubbed the grime off the pots, swept the flour off the floor, and put everything away. I made my way across the kitchen with my hands full of cleaning supplies to the dining room. The door clicked as I unlocked the double bolts. As I entered the large and overly white room the door boomed as the weight caused it to shut itself. Locking the doors behind me, I kept staring around my shoulder. I had a strange sense Mnakaraneh was here, plotting my demise. The emptiness of the dining hall caused my skin to crawl. I couldn't tell if my paranoia was due to the hollowness and cruelty that haunted my memories or if Mnakaraneh was hiding in the shadows. It seemed odd that I felt his presence outside of home. Maybe I was still shooting up from Dom's staring.
I relocated the dirty dishes in the dining room to the serving window, wiped the tables and chairs, then swept in here. It wasn't until I swept about half the room I noticed Dom peeking behind the rectangular window from the hall. His eyes were more bloodshot, his mouth moved quickly like he was speaking but the walls were too thick to hear him. He was stationary, but his glare creeped me out. How did he get there? I thought he left with the rest of the group? Why was he unattended? All I could hear in the back of my head was Quintrell giving me that lame excuse, "we're understaffed."
He took a step forward, I took one back and held onto my broom for dear life. A loud screech made me cringe as he scratched at the side of the door, his mouth still moving but I couldn't hear him speak. Through the small window I saw Dom lower his hands to the door handle. The door clanged as he tried to open it, thankfully Evan remembered to lock the door but my heart still jumped as I feared it hadn't been.
My peripherals went dark as I focused on the enlarged pupils of his eyes and the large bags underneath. The only noise that echoed through my ears was the clanging of the door as he tried again and again to break through. I was paralyzed on spot unable to sum up enough strength to lower my broom as a weapon.
Suddenly, as I remembered to blink he was gone. Had I imagined that whole thing?
The darkness was gone, I was left alone with nothing but chairs, tables, and a pile of dirt on the floor.
I knew Quintrell wouldn't care if I didn't finish, nobody would. I dropped my broom and I ran.
Even as I left for home, my eyes kept wandering behind me. I could feel Dom's eyes watching me from his dorm window. I wanted him gone but my story would only give Quintrell more reason to keep him here.
I returned to work each day for two weeks and each day Dom continued to stare at me, looking deathlier and carrying a familiar aura of Mnakaraneh each minute. His darkness haunted my footsteps, each step I took when I was alone was another set advancing me. I had nightmares of him taking the shape of Mnakaraneh, his eyes glowing red with anger and hatred.
My attempts to talk to Max have all been in vain. I wasn't a caretaker anymore. My only chance to exchange words was during breakfast while serving food through the window as he picked up his food to eat. Although, It was too risky, Matilda was at every turn, her round eyes focused on us like an owl hoping the mice would step out of its hole.
I'm dying with anticipation of what he may have learned. I could tell by the way his eyes widened as he saw me and the sweat beading on his forehead that he knew something important and was dying to tell me.
Matilda updated my schedule and next week I'll be with a different supervisor performing maid duties. These duties involve being in rooms without patients. Good news: I'll be away from Dom. Bad news: It'll be harder to talk to Max.
~~
I haven't worked as a caretaker in two weeks and my suspicions of being booted from that team were confirmed. They haven't officially said anything, but I had a strong feeling they wanted to keep me away from Max. My anxiety to learn the truth was peeking.
I've worked with Steve these past two weeks and his frankness was misguided as jokes. He teased the patients, mocks them, and says vile things but as soon as I speak against him he raised his hands in defense and tells me it's just a joke. Hiding behind humor to make me feel like a prick was a mannerism I absolutely despised. But no more. I'm to work in a different department.
I sat in the employee lounge waiting for my next supervisor, Mindy to finish her break. She babbled on with her stories of all patients. I listened intensively hoping she would spill something important about the odd behaviors.
"As crazy as they come." The maid continued her story.
I wondered what it would be like to lose your mind? Do you know you've lost it? Or is everything ordinary and normal? As curious as I was I didn't really want to know. It was awfully sad looking at all the poor people stuck in this jail. Some don't seem to think that way at all. They smile and catch magical imaginary butterflies, unaware of their situation. Though there are cute, and sensitive creatures here there are few that give me a this urge to sprint as far away as possible.
I jumped at the sudden touch of Mindy's hand on mine. I had forgoten where I was for a split second.
"Time to get going, I'll be training you on your next chore. Follow me." She pulled me forcefully by my arm and I had no choice but to be dragged out of the employee lounge.
"I'm more than capable of following without the need to rip my arm off." I tell her. She lets go and chuckles, thinking it a joke.
We entered the wreck room only to exit through double doors. Through the hallway we exited a single sturdy metal door.
"Remember to always..."
"Close the doors behind me. I know." I locked the door behind me. She takes me into the dorms, the patients are busy in the wreck room, leaving the dorm rooms empty.
"We're going to clean today." She tells me as I lock the door leading into the dorms. We head into a closet, which was locked, filled with cleaning materials and a cart that could hold several items at a time with wheels to push around, then locking it, once again.
"We have different schedules throughout the week, one dorm will be free of patients while the others are still stocked full. When these are cleaned and our duties here are finished we'll cycle through to the next dorm. We are on a tight schedule that way, so we must hurry."
Together, Mindy and I grabbed supplies, one of which was a shovel, an odd object for cleaning. We opened the door to our first room. It was fairly clean, I grabbed the sheets and we crossed the hall to our next room. A powerful wave of rotten smell hits my nose the second I opened the door. I gagged as it traveled up my nose and the stench grazed my taste buds. Plugging my nose and holding my breath kept the vile scent at bay. Whichever patient stayed here released his bowls all over his or her room. Now the shovel makes sense.
"Why am I doing this?" I asked myself, my mind swiftly replied with "Twenty-five silver coins a week. We need this." I found the courage and strength to continue. Taking a step away from the room helped only a little, the smell wafted into the hall. I re-entered with another deep breath and shoveled the grime from the room. My head spun and my lungs became week so I took a step out, grabbed a bucket of soapy water and a mop then inhaled again to return. Mindy appeared more composed than I did, I couldn't even tell if she was holding her breath or not. As Mindy removed the sheets from the room I mopped the floors until the room didn't smell of shit anymore. We did it again, the next room was also used as a bathroom.
"Does anyone take them out to go?" I asked mostly to myself while shaking my head in disgust. I lingered by the door, hesitant to go in.
"No. They just let us handle their mess." Mindy scooted by me with the shovel in hand. This room had less soiling but it looked like the patient believed that his piss was magical and could burn down the walls. It was sprayed in fancy circles and up and down in squiggly lines. Man, he drinks a lot of water. After scrubbing the walls three times to get the stains out we move on until the laundry basket was full.
"Go ahead and start with room one-hundred and three. I'll take these to the laundry room." She left me in solitude. It was hauntingly quiet.
I entered the room labeled "103" and was shocked by the dried blood on the wall. It smelled of copper and I couldn't push out the image a patient bitting the tips of his fingers off to write, "where is the reaper?" in thin, tall letters. I shivered at the thought. All my thoughts raced with questions and possibly even answers. But anyone who would use their own blood to write on the walls has to be insane.
I returned to the cart, on the bottom rack was a second bucket of soapy water and a rag. I put all my strength in my elbows attempting to get the blood stains out of the walls. The pieces of dried blood chipped off the walls, but the little bits that were imbedded in the divets of the stone weren't coming out. I rubbed and rubbed until my joints hurt.
"Why isn't this coming out." I stopped to breathe, at least it didn't reek of piss that smelled of rotten broccoli, and bowel movements. On the opposite wall were little white streets. I took a break from the blood and ran my fingers over the sketching of tally marks. I multiplied the columns by the rows.
eighty across, twenty-six going down equals ninety with extra marks scribbled on the bottom equaled about two thousand and one hundred. Counting the opposite wall ten across eleven down equals one-hundred and ten. They could be days, months, solstices; to what though? I looked back at the words, "where is the reaper?"
A feeling inside me knew what that meant, that the tally marks corresponded with the missing reaper. But it all sounded so absurd, then again, whatever I've been seeing in the dark was labeled as insane by Ade'cer. Maybe this wasn't as absurd as I thought.
I wasn't a saint, but I have faith in the Godius and Goddessa. Scriptures of their word never mentioned a reaper, or any being that took care of our souls. We were taught that the god and goddess handled that and took our lives into their hands. With everything I've been seeing I started to doubt my faith.
I shook it off and continued working. The blood was permanently stuck on the wall and I admitted defeat. I had to get out of this room. As I pulled the sheets off the bed a chilling feeling traveled up my spine, a feeling that the shadows hid another human, or worse, Mnakaraneh.
Someone was behind me. I shot my eyes towards the door as my heart began beating faster. No one. I sighed to release the feeling but it stuck around like a leech.
"Where's the reaper?" My mind asked. I shoved the sheets in the basket then messily mopped up the floor.
"Where's the reaper?" I thought again as I finished.
"Done with this room!" I tried sounding cheerful, hoping it would toss that stupid question aside but the dark blood stained the question on mind. I ventured across the hall to the next room. It was fairly clean and needed little attention.
"Where's the reaper?" I whispered to myself even though minutes have passed since I was in room "103."
I longed for Mindy. I didn't like being alone in here. What was keeping her?
I worked on this room just like the others. It wasn't until after I threw the sheets into the basket that I noticed the figure standing opposite from me. My heart dropped into my stomach as blood shot eyes stared back at me.
Dom.
"Are you lost?" A quiver in my throat made my voice crack. He didn't reply. I prayed that his mind was straight enough to keep his blood craved tendencies at bay, though the deranged look in his eyes said otherwise. I took a step back as he stepped forward. My heart raced, my palms began to sweat profusely.
My sore lungs breathed faster to keep up with the deafening beating of my heart. With one quick movement the cart hurled across the room. He screamed with shrill hatred lacing his voice. I responded with a shrill screech and lept backwards into the room behind me. The door shut and I held the handle as my life depended on it. I didn't have time to lock the door as Dom threw himself against the metal. It opened an inch as I was forcibly pushed back but thrust my weight against it to keep it shut. He reared, ready to throw himself at it.
My fingers felt like uncontrollable worms as I shuffled through twenty different keys to find the right one. The keys slipped through my fingers as I was knocked back by Dom ramming against the door. I had a short frame of time to bend over and pick up the keys before he did it again. but I managed to swiftly pick them up and shoved one into the door.
Click, the door locked but I still leaned against it for fear I merely imagined the sound of it locking.
"These were meant to hold." I repeated to myself hoping the hinges wouldn't fly off. I doubted myself, my faith in the door decreased each time it rattled against his brutal banging's. Instead of hurling himself at the door he ravaged the door with his fists until blood dripped from his knuckles.
I could see his face from the barred window. His yellow chipped teeth grinned with frustration as he growled like a rabid dog. The whites of his eyes seemed abnormally large with red veins crawling to his iris.
"Help me!" I cried aloud as his teeth bit at the bars.
My imagination ran wild. He wouldn't make my death quick, he'd bite my nose off, rip my hair out, and try to shovel my bowels out of my body with his bare hands! He was going to find his way in here and he would mangle me.
There was shouting down the hall and the quick tapping of shoes against tile. His face was quickly removed from the window of the door with a large thud. More grunts and groaning, the jingling of keys, and the door opened. Quintrell stared at me with softened eyes as Mindy anxiously pushed past him. She wrapped her hands around my arms.
"Oh, Mae, thank Goddessa you're alright! I am so sorry, I swear I had locked the door behind me. I've been so absent minded lately..." Mindy groaned on as her eyes reddened with tears. Her hands were wet against my arm and she shook more than I had. My voice evaded me, my heart kept beating as the fear clung to me like a needy child.
"Are you ok, Mae?" Quintrell asked. He reached out to me and swiftly took me far away from the crazed lunatic. I didn't realize I was still crying with snot pouring out of my nose until Quintrell pulled a red handkerchif from his breast pocket and handed it to me.
"Go home, Mae.You've gotten quite the scare. And don't come back unless you're ready." He said with sweetness that made me uncomfortable. He sounded a little too cheerful since I was attacked and Mindy might end up losing her job.
I wordlessly agreed with him since I was still struck with horror; the walk back home would help bring strength to my legs. A curious thought ran through my mind that would eat at me unless I asked.
"Quintrell?"
"Yes, my dear."
"What happened to Alice?"
"She went through a similar experience, got scared and quit. If you have no desire to continue working here no one will think badly of you." He said like a promise. I nodded, smiled and walked out the building taking in the fresh smell of the air. It replenished my sore lungs but not my weak heart.