5132
TWO MONTHS AGO
"How are you feeling?"
"Like I can cry in happiness."
My therapist looked at me like I grew three heads. "Lana, I told you not to lie in our sessions."
"And I told you not to call me Lana. It's 5132. See? It's literally written in my gown. You can see in the dark but you can't read a basic number in the broad daylight?"
It was meant to be a jab but he didn't bite it.
"Why are you so against your name?" He asked with a tilt of his head instead. "You used to be so proud of it. What happened?"
Life happened. Death happened.
Tomato Tomahto. But of course, I wasn't going to tell him that.
"Is this really necessary? You are not even a real therapist." If it's possible, Byron's face grew even paler. I watched with a blank face as he dropped the notepad a little harsher than necessary. He was getting pissed but ironically he didn't have any right to act on it.
Not anymore.
And if I was capable of showing any emotions, I'd give him a petty as fuck smile. Maybe even throw my middle finger at whoever was watching our session in the CCTV. But since the day I woke up different, unable to keep my hunger at bay, they upped my dose. Pills after pills that could have been knocked a human out for months. When that didn't work, they found another way. It looked like they had a magical solution for everything.
I only had one magic pill now. A red one that burned my throat every time I took it.
It made me sluggish and my nerves go into shock.
It also made me pissed than normal.
"You have to cooperate, Lana. This won't do. If you don't get better, you'll be stuck here for the rest of your life. Is this what you truly want?" If it was Sandy or anyone besides Byron asking me, I might be tempted to answer. But he was a sly little bastard, always trying to get into my head.
"Oh?" I pretended to mull over his question. "This place has a get-out card now? I didn't realize Valentine was being that generous. Call me when the shield drops, I'll just walk out with my awesome socialization skills."
I never met the man in question but what I heard from others was enough to pray that I never saw his face. Maybe Byron thought so too by the way he flinched, color returning to his cheeks.
"That damn disrespect. When would you learn that acting passive-aggressive isn't going to help you?"
Hopefully never.
Before I could answer, however, I was saved by a phone call. Giving me a pointed stare that I read as don't make me kill you today, he picked it up, talking fast and quietly so I didn't listen. Not that I was interested in listening. He got only two calls every day anyway. One was from his master Valentine and one was from a girl he left somewhere in Bali.
His life was far miserable than mine.
"Byron, did you-" I whipped around, seeing Zach out of all people. Now that I was interested in. He looked good, damn good for a ghost coming back to life. It was unfair, really. He was the one who died, he was the one who decided that mourning him would be useless when he wanted me dead.
But I was always a little crazy so I watched, shamelessly as they talked before he came to take me to my little room. He was probably waiting for me to refuse or hiss at him, which only happened like one time but I stood up without a care, mimicking something that could have called a smile.
"Where to, murderer?"
I loved the way he flinched at the nickname every time. It made me powerful or hollow when that look quickly vanished. "Come on."
We walked past the staff courter to the dining when he finally snapped, breaking our no talking rules for the last three years. "Ok, shoot me. You haven't looked at me once, not fucking once, Lana. What do you want me to do? Say sorry?"
I looked at him then, letting him see the damage he caused by hunting me for days. He made me believe I was doing the right thing, clinging to his memories only to snatch them away when it fitted him.
Sorry?
No, I wanted him to suffer. I wanted him to dose up on guilt, choke on it until he couldn't even recognize himself.
He started raising his hands but in the end, thought better of it. "Say something."
"Is this a deliberate dream too?" I went for the hit. Besides, pent-up guilt was a good look for him. "Is there any pill in your sleeves that will make me sleep for another fifty years while you keep torturing me with my worst mistakes?"
"You're joking, right?"
"My life's a joke to you, Zach. What do you want me to think?" I shrugged, ignoring his sad little eyes. "No, you know what? I need answers. You could have started a life outside of these walls. So, why? Why are you still here?"
He took a step forward, cradling my face. "Why do you think?"
"To torture me." I was offended that he could touch me so easily without thinking of the consequences. "To fuck with my mind. To kill me-"
"Stop it!"
"A Gun would have been too messy and a knife too personal. So, you chose something more sinister. My love." I ripped his hands from my face, wiping it for good measure. But I was still petty, still fucked up so I brought his face closer to mine, teasing a forgiveness he'd never get. Only when he closed his eyes and his breathing changed that I looked at my long-broken nails, slashing his face with it.
I heard his scream, saw three long marks on his pasty skin. But it didn't give me any solace. It only made me sick. So sick of everything.
"What the fuck, Lana?"
"Be glad it wasn't your neck," I whispered, finding it hard to control my heartbeat. Those pesky little emotions were coming back and I didn't want him out of everyone to watch the withdrawal.
The rest of the journey to my room was pretty uneventful. Maybe because Zach didn't tattle to anyone why he looked like he survived a zombie attack. Or maybe it's because I was starting to tear up, thinking of all the time I've imagined our showdown would go only to get a piss-poor version of it.
"Lana, I-" He started trying again when we reached my room but something made him stop, and then he was pushing past me to find whatever he just saw. It didn't take me long to understand what it was. The smell was basically familiar by the way it ruffled my nose.
Blood.
Lots of it.
VERMON
"Dear diary,
Today there were words about some girl who is going to share my cell. I'm still calling it a deliberate prank from Byron. That idiot is trying to break my shell, make me talk. As if. Sadly, I haven't seen anyone besides the doctor, nurses, Byron, and Zach in months. Not even Sandy or those creepy as fuck sisters. Heard one of them ended up in the tunnel, good riddance.
Bonus point? I've started seeing Samara. She stares at me with her sad little eyes. Sometimes she even cries. She tells me not to give up. Not to take Zach's words in my heart. Says he's just lost his way and will come back to me one day.
***
Ok, it wasn't a prank. That girl had arrived a few weeks ago.
She is completely strange. One would think she's mute like the way she doesn't even make a sound. She just stares ahead, sitting all day near the window. She even caught me using my powers but no word. I thought of scaring her away by taking a nurse's soul right in front of her but she had no reaction whatsoever. Even when I became irritated with her, she was silent. I wonder what made her come here in the first place.
***
That girl spoke to me today.
There was no, hello, who are you, why are you here or blah blah blah. She simply sat on my bed and said. "I know who you are."
Just like me, she had a number. 5133. I wasn't feeling good that day so I entertained her question with a laugh. What could she even do? Tell everyone? LOL. Everyone already knew who I was. As if she could hear what was in my mind, she sighed. "I know what you are. You are a Reaper."
Well, there, you have it karma. My cellmate knows."
I closed the diary only to drag my sweaty hair away from my forehead. The mirror in front of me was deflecting the desperation in my eyes. After the meeting with Zedkiel, I couldn't sleep at night. I thought I knew what I was doing but fuck, maybe Zedkiel was right. Maybe I should have stayed away. Sometimes I wondered if the Red clan cursed me a lifetime of bad luck or something. I wouldn't put it past them. And if I was sure of what was I about to do with this particular case...
Maybe it was best not to wonder.