A different room. A different day?
Those were the first thoughts Todd had when he opened his eyes. He stared at the pale walls across from him. No pads.
He remembered someone moving him, wrapping a scratchy blanket around his body and hoisting him into a wheelchair. And it wasn’t the faggot either, he remembered that, too. In fact, everything that had happened before the woman with the twelve-inch hypodermic needle seemed crystal clear. It was afterward that everything fogged up.
He turned his head to the left, trying to get a grasp of his new surroundings. The room was adequate size for the bed he rested on and the chair across from him. Anything else would have turned it into an overstuffed storeroom. A scant window slatted with metal bars allowed strips of light into the room. He watched the ballet of dust motes in the light, seeing them but not.
He looked up at the ceiling. He lay on his back with his arms and legs outstretched and secured by thick leather straps that were attached to the corners of the bed. Todd thought of pulling on the straps to test their durability but found he didn’t have the energy to even uncurl his fingers. He thought of himself as prostrate before an altar, a sacrificial altar. Hail Mary full of grace—why have you forsaken me? So what else is new?
The room smelled of old urine. An attempt had been made to freshen the air with some kind of peppermint stuff. It was like trying to cover a serious case of body odor with perfume.
Todd heard squeaky cart wheels and the scrunch of rubber-soled shoes outside the room. He lowered his eyes, watching the door and the knob. No movement. He watched and listened until the squeak, scrunch, squeak faded into a quiet echo.
He glanced over at his left hand, wrist bound and buckled. A long scratch marked the inside of his middle finger. The sting from it told him it was relatively fresh. They should have just cut it off, he thought. I would’ve let them watch it grow back. Then they would’ve figured out who they were messing with.
A thick voice seeped through the wall near his head. “It’s that time. He’s coming, and I warned you. You wouldn’t listen, so all of you lousy mothers can eat shit and die!”
A flat scream, like a woman practicing vocal scales but sticking to only one note, followed. It sounded as if it was coming from another room, behind the wall to his left.
“I am the Christ!” the thick voice continued in bravado. “I am the instrument of universal power. Don’t you see that? Hey, you in there. You can kiss my feet or kiss my ass, it’s da same to me!”
The screamer ran out of steam just as the self-proclaimed messiah finished his speech.
Mumbling started inside Todd’s head, whispers about covert operations that would be used to try and trip him up, to fool him into releasing information about things.
Todd moved his head sluggishly from side to side, straining to hear what was being said. They were whispering so low, so softly. If he could only make out what they were saying, he could protect himself from the evil they were planning against him.
He strained harder, fear building inside him like the blocks of a warped Lego set. No interlocking teeth, one teetering atop the other, all of it threatening to tumble into a pile of unrecognizable reality. Jagged, conspiratorial sentences cut through his brain. “He’s going to . . . we can . . . burning . . . never know . . .”
He had to get out; had to move before they found him. Todd pulled against the restraints. There was strength in his arms, the strength of ten thousand. The strength of Hercules times ten thousand! He pulled harder, his body reacting slower than the rush in his mind. Adrenaline torched his fear, spiking it like squirts of gasoline to a flame. He pulled his arms and legs up and in as far as he could, every muscle in his body bulging and straining. His lips moved, trying to mimic the voices in his head. His heart pumped loud in his ears, blurring the words of the conniving demons even more.
“Stop the lies.” The messiah’s sermon started again. “Stop your denying and follow me!”
Bare feet steadily paced from the next room. Slap—slap—slap. The pace grew faster, more urgent.
A woman’s cadence slid beneath the mesh of sounds and voices. “Take it off the wall. Take it off the wall. If you don’t take it off the wall, it’ll burn out my eyeballs.” She made her claim with no more excitement than if she’d been announcing, “It’s raining outside.”
Todd’s hands and feet locked into position, up and in, pulling against the straps. He tried to ignore the voices from the other rooms. They were not the ones he needed to be concerned with. The sonofabitches in his head were the dangerous ones. If he stayed this way, like a damn turtle stuck on his back, they would get him. They didn’t know he could hear them, and that was good. That was very, very good. Thick beads of sweat, or was it blood, laced the front of his face. If he stayed perfectly still maybe they wouldn’t notice him. Just pass him by like a piece of furniture. The straps would eventually break. He was sure of that. Then he could get away.
The demon voices delayed and echoed. “Burning . . . to his breath . . .there will be no—”
Todd moved his eyes to the straps wrapped around his left wrist. It’s gonna come off. Just hold steady. Another whispered thought came to him above the voices. It was not in sequence to what was happening, had no relevance to his fear. If I reach out far enough, I can touch that chair.
A clanging noise, like someone beating on a tin drum, permeated his brain. They were trying to get his attention. Bang! Clang! “Can’t let him . . .” The voices grew clearer now.
Todd struggled harder to keep the straps taut. The room felt like the inside of a furnace, blazing with the refuse of half the world. He knew the most important piece of trash they’d burn was him. He had to get out, seek shelter, but the room was too small. It had no place for him to hide.
Maybe the window, through the metal bars. You can do it! Just get your ass out of these straps and shrink yourself through the slats. Oh, shit, oh, shit, too late. Too goddamn late!
Todd jerked his head to the right and strained to see the white underside of his shackled arm. A searing pain cut from his armpit to the inside of his elbow, and his lips moved quickly in silent prayer. He watched in horror as the flesh under his arm split into a maze of spider cracks. Tongues of flame soon rose and licked from each crevice.
Oh, Jesus, Jesus, Mary, they’re burning me from the inside out! I won’t yell, I won’t. If I scream, they’ll know for sure they’ve got me. I won’t show them nothin’.
He felt the blood in his veins begin to boil, rolling like lava from his heart to his brain. The cracks in his arm widened, and the flesh suddenly burst open like the sun-baked belly of road kill. Thick layers of fatty tissue curled over and into itself, exposing the stark white bone of his arm. Bright orange flames erupted from the wound, but nothing burned him. Instead, it felt like a thousand fingertips pressed into the meaty tissue of his arm. The pain of that sensation was greater than what could have been caused by any blaze, however. He would have preferred they mutilate his body, cut it into small pieces with a rusted ax, instead of them touching him this way.
Todd pulled against the straps and wondered how much longer it would be before the marrow in his bones would cook. Suddenly, he spotted the pointed head of one of the conspirators in the flames. It had no eyes, just a gaping mouth filled with fragments of sharp yellow teeth. He watched as a swirling tendril slithered from the conspirator, searching for the hanging slabs of his flesh.
They’re going to infiltrate! They’re gonna stick that thing inside my veins and suck out my thoughts!
The fingertip touches pressed harder, opening him wider, and the flames spread farther. “No!” Todd pushed the scream from him with every ounce of breath he had.
The squirming tendril suddenly froze, as did the flames. They just stood in the ruptured part of Todd’s flesh like a 3-D puzzle. The conspirator’s head started to shrink slowly back into the hole in his arm.
“The gates of hell for you, boy! Can’t you understand that? Don’t you hear me?” the now hoarse messiah yelled. Then his voice grew quiet with only enough volume to leak through Todd’s wall. “They’ll see. They’ll see, won’t they, boy?”
Todd knew that whoever was in the next room was talking to him. He knew he wasn’t a messiah either, just some asshole making noise. But that was all right, maybe he could help him keep the demons distracted. Todd’s eyes numbed in their position. He had to stand guard. He had to make sure they wouldn’t try it again.
The flames stood motionless, resting in the hole of his exposed limb. Blue, thread-thin veins wound through the fatty mass of his arm, and Todd wondered what it would feel like to touch one. To squeeze it between his fingers until it burst. Would the flame disappear then? Could it be extinguished that way?
The door to his room opened suddenly, and Todd gave only a cursory glance to the two people who entered, then kept tabs on them from the corner of his eye. One was a tall, slender man with a band of brown hair circling the back of his head. A rooster comb of tufts lined the center of his scalp from front to back. He walked into the room on the balls of his feet, as though ready to sprint.
Closing the door behind them was a middle-aged woman in a white uniform, her face puffy and chalky white. A pink scalp showed through the tight kink of blonde-white hair on her head. She shuffled through the small stack of folders in her hands. “Todd Guidry, Dr. Lee. Came in yesterday.” She handed the man a sheet of paper.
The man pulled the chair away from the wall and placed it next to Todd’s cot. He straddled the plastic seat, then cleared his throat. “Todd?”
Todd heard him from far away. His eyes darted toward the man, then locked back onto his arm.
“Todd, my name is Dr. Lee.” An impatient rustle of paper followed. “Can you hear me, Todd? Do you understand what I am saying?”
Todd’s eyes moved back to Lee’s face. He knew he had to keep watch on his arm so the demons wouldn’t come back. They could devour him whole next time. Take his skin from his body one layer at a time until they entered the very cavity of his being. Then all would be lost. All would be lost. Todd wished the man would quit calling his name.
“Todd? Want to tell me why your hands and feet are up that way?” Lee asked. “You must be tired of holding them there.” He reached out to touch Todd’s arm.
“No,” Todd hissed. “They’ll see you.”
“Who’ll see me, Todd?” Lee asked, his hand suspended in midair. “Tell me what you see.”
It hadn’t occurred to Todd that the man wouldn’t be able to see the hole in his arm or the flames. Maybe it was a trick they were using to distract him.
More paper shuffling. Todd heard Lee telling the woman something but couldn’t make out what it was.
“Todd, we’re going to undo these straps.” Lee stood. “Can you hear me? We’re going to undo these straps and see how you do. If I undo them, will you put your arms and legs down?”
Play it cool, play it cool, Todd thought. This is the only way you can get out of here. Focus, dammit! Focus! He watched in amazement as the flames quickly shrank back into the fissure in his arm. The conspirator was gone now. He watched as his flesh unfurled and flopped back into place on its own accord, leaving behind thin black cracks on his skin.
Dr. Lee and the woman became irrelevant to Todd. He saw them and heard them, but his mind had difficulty putting their existence and purpose into perspective. He felt lost and afraid. It was as though Todd Guidry had suddenly ceased to exist, and this other person had taken over. Nothing made sense, and everything made perfect sense.
The greatest part of Todd’s fear was that somewhere, far below this pit he had fallen into, this Erebus of torment, was the someone he once was. And he couldn’t get to him. No matter how far he stretched or how hard he tried, that person sank farther from his grasp. He saw it, heard the screams for help, yet could do nothing about it. All he could do was watch as that person—that Todd Guidry—died. The loneliness of that revelation was unbearable. He asked for death of the body but prayed fervently for death of the mind. To silence it forever, to snuff out all thoughts like the light from a candlewick drowned in melted wax.
Todd wondered what he’d done to deserve this. What horrible atrocity had he committed to be left alone to deal with forces greater than the creation of the world? There was no one he had harmed intentionally; no one he had tortured, to deserve such treatment. Todd wanted to cry. Cry with the pain of wanting to die and not being able to. He watched the cracks in his skin begin to squirm like worms frantic to find cover from light. Oh, yes, he wanted to cry. But the voices wouldn’t allow it. They wouldn’t allow a moment’s rest from his having to watch. He thought of just letting go and letting them have him. But he knew that wasn’t an option. Willingly letting these demons take his life would mean his very soul would be lost forever and that even in death he would experience no relief.
Todd started to laugh. Not in his eyes or facial expression, just in voice. His vision blurred, then cleared. Pale colors flitted in and out of his view but had no substance. He felt slight tugs at his wrists, then the straps removed. He heard a soft ping of metal striking metal, then a clatter from a far-off place. Two pairs of hands pushed his arms and legs down, and he let them, but he remained spread-eagled.
The woman, now standing at the foot of the cot, tossed a blanket over him. Todd watched with little interest as it floated over his bare legs. The hospital gown he wore had ridden to the upper part of his thighs, its hem twisted tightly beneath him.
“I need to ask you some questions, Todd, so we can give you the best care possible. Do you understand? Can you hear me?” Lee asked.
Yes, he understood. He had heard. But he had no energy left for answers. The laughing stopped. Todd looked at the doctor’s face. It seemed kind enough.
“Todd? Do you know where you are?” Lee asked.
Silence, tempered with a blank stare.
“You’re in the hospital. Municipal Mental Health. Do you remember how you got here?” Lee asked.
To someone else, Todd heard the man ask, “Can’t find it—do you have another?”
Another quick shuffle of paper. The woman’s voice droned on low and quick, the man’s lower and rapid fire.
Lee stood up, pushed the chair back against the wall, then patted Todd’s arm. “I’ll be back later to check on you,” he said. “Miss Louviere here, will be back in a moment with medication that will help you rest.”
A muffled clack, a whisper of breeze as the door opened and closed, and Todd was alone again. He glimpsed at his arm. Only faint gray, stationary streaks remained. Suddenly, he heard two sharp raps on the wall next to the cot. He shivered.
Rap! Rap!
Todd started to turn his head toward the sound, then stopped. What if it’s them? Maybe they snuck in when those people left. Maybe they’ll gouge my eyes out or—or tear holes in my face and rip off my lips! The raps grew insistent.
Rap! Rap! Rap!
He shifted his eyes to the right as far as he could before allowing his head to follow. Holding his breath, Todd swung his head quickly to the side, hoping to take whatever or whoever created the racket by surprise. Nothing there.
Rap! Rap! Rap!
He stared at the spot on the wall where the knocking seemed to be coming from. He tried looking through the wall. Nothing.
“Todd?” a gentle voice whispered. It was soft, like a lullaby before sleep. It brought tears suddenly and violently to his eyes. Rap! Rap—rap—rap . . .”Toddddd?”
The woman’s voice seemed to pulse from behind the wall but at the same time in Todd’s head.
“There’s a way out,” the voice murmured. “Will you trust me? Do you believe me?”
The direction of her voice or where she was didn’t matter to Todd. His eyes fixated on the wall until it wasn’t there anymore. Only the fact that she spoke to him mattered. There was something about it, something about that soft, musical voice that he wanted to hold onto, cling to, inhale and die with.
“Uh-huh,” Todd answered dreamily.
“Good boy. Now listen carefully. I left a present for you, just for you. It’s on the floor near your bed. Look over—you’ll see it.”
Todd didn’t want to turn away. He was afraid if he did, she might leave. Excitement ravaged him, making him shake uncontrollably. He turned and stretched his arm over the edge of the cot and dangled his fingers to the floor. The linoleum floor felt cool under his fingertips as he tapped them around blindly. Other than dust collecting on his fingers, however, he felt nothing.
“Look—look. You’ll find it,” the voice cooed.
It was such music to Todd, tender strains that defied consonant and vowel. He pulled his arm back and gripped the edge of the cot. Rolling onto his left side, he let his head drop over the edge. Slivers of silver light shot from his eyes, and he had to steady himself to keep from falling out of bed. He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again. There, at the head of the frame, just beyond the edge of the thin mattress, lay his present. He snatched it up.
“Isn’t it beautiful? Look at it. Touch it. Put it in your mouth.” The voice was a canticle, rich and vibrant, filling the darkness of his mind with a tangible sustenance.
Todd rolled over heavily and raised the pen to eye level. He held the ends reverently. The smooth, black plastic tube had BROUSSARD’S INSURANCE COMPANY advertised in white on its side. But, to Todd, these words were but code to a higher knowledge. Something only she understood. And he would trust her. A thin metal band partitioned the pen in the middle, and a nub of metal at the top clicked the pen’s point in and out, something Todd tested twice.
“Open it. Do what you need to do.”
He twisted the pen halves quickly and pulled them apart. A small spring and plastic tube of ink fell onto his chest. He looked at the two empty halves in his hands.
“Go on, Todd. Do it.”
“Who are you?” Todd asked, his voice cracked and hollow. “What am I supposed to do with this?”
“You know what you’re supposed to do, Todd. It will give you relief and free you.”
Todd looked at the tube halves. The tiny grooves and threads at the end of one seemed clearer, more in focus to him. He stared at the miniature ridges until they became mountains and valleys, ones that he could almost step into. He turned it, standing the pointed end on his chest. Wrapping his fingers around the tube to hold it into place, he pressed his right thumb over the threaded end. He pushed the tube harder into his chest.
If I press down hard enough, it’ll go straight through my heart. Blood will squirt out of the top like a drinking fountain.
Although the thoughts flattered Todd’s face with a grin, he knew it was not what the beautiful voice meant. That was not what was intended here. He lifted the pen from his chest and pressed his thumb firmly against the top ridges, watching his thumbnail grow red then white until he heard a crack. Pulling his thumb away, he studied the wedge of jagged plastic.
He dropped the top half of the pen to the floor and held the broken half in both hands. "Who are you?” he asked the voice again.
“Oh, you already know. Why do you want to confuse things? Look at it. Taste it.”
Todd tilted the broken plastic to his lips. Closing his eyes, he stuck out his tongue and tasted. His mouth salivated at the bitter mix of plastic and ink.
“Look down and see. If it is so unclear to you, I’ll show you. Look down,” the voice whispered. It sounded as though her vibrant lips were but an inch from his left ear. He could almost feel their full, luscious touch.
Todd looked down at his legs, which were still splayed apart under the blanket. He frowned with uncertainty until he saw a jerk of the blanket right at his groin. Now, he understood.
“That’s right!” the voice said triumphantly. “I knew you would understand.”
“Who are you?”
“One who will never leave you.”
“Are you God?”
“No, not God.” The voice laughed, the sound as pure as crystal chimes.
“Are you Mary? You know—Jesus’ mother?”
Another tinkle of crystal. “I’m what you want. Take your present and get with it.”
Todd closed his eyes for a second, but only for a second. The other whispers in his head threatened to overpower the beautiful voice if he kept them closed too long. His left hand moved to the edge of the blanket and pushed it down. He arched his right foot toward his left leg and walked the blanket further down until it was at his knees. The gown didn’t cover his excitement.
He looked at the tube in his hand. It will finally be over. This is the root of it all. This is the reason for it all. Do it quickly and get it over with. He stared at the sharp ridges of plastic as he moved the pen’s tube lower over his body. In his mind, he saw it already gone, detached, just a roll of flesh lying between his legs. Todd reached down to steady himself, knowing the instrument wasn’t sharp enough to just slice right through it. He would have to saw it off.