Liquid Death (The Edinön Trilogy Book 1) (8 page)

              Now I know why she left that note. It wasn’t for me. It was a cry for help.

***

The Funny Story

              Jan. 6, 2017

                           
So, funny story: Kyle is taking me
to the Winter Ball. Since Uncle Jim disappeared, I have been staying at Ms. Hendricks’ extravagant abode recovering from near freezing and starvation. A crazy idea came to her mind this morning that I should experience a high school dance before her nameless superiors coerce her to readmit me into Blue Skys. Of course, I didn’t object. That would require communicating.

              As a result, Ms. Hendricks has already rented a dress for me and a tux for my aide, who seemed all but happy with the idea of torturing me Saturday night. Obviously, some ground rules had to be laid with the proposal: no touching, no dancing, and no leaving each other’s sight. In other words, sit on the bench and watch fourteen- to eighteen-year-old children grind against one another to heart-pounding music until your eyes and ears bleed.

              I am aware there is a hidden agenda to this arrangement. Ms. Hendricks would not assign one of her best interns to babysit me on a Saturday night if she did not have to be somewhere important. And she couldn’t leave me
alone
with Kyle, so she decided a school dance would be the perfect place to keep me for two to three hours.

              It is Friday, and the time in Kyle’s car reads 4:57. My first group therapy appointment commences at five. I have already checked out of my brain and will return tomorrow morning.

              Miss Eddington meets us in the lobby and converses amorously with my aide while she directs us to group therapy. Kyle responds to her unconstrained coquetry by professionally maintaining an emotionless mien and walking closer to me.

              As expected, there are
people
at this session, and naturally my intestines react to the shock of seeing so many people in such a small room by forming a noose around my stomach. I double over and desperately crawl to the wall for support. My head is spinning, rendering my body helplessly immobile.

              “Kandi, I’ll be right with you the whole time,” Kyle consoles as he crouches beside me. “No one is judging you or looking at you. I will make sure you are as comfortable as possible.”

              A moan of anguish escapes my lips. I rest my forehead against the wall and pretend I am on a merry-go-round. Wee! This is fun!

              “Oh, dear, she is white as a ghost. Here, Kyle, give her this.” A kidney dish is passed from Miss Eddington to Kyle, and then to the floor by my feet.

              Has my fate changed? Am I finally passing to the next world?

              “Juan, sit back down,” my therapist orders.

              The mention of Juan’s name instantly calms the stormy seas in my head. If he is here, then I am safe. Juan will protect me. Color reappears in my face, and I can breathe again. I kick the dish aside and use the wall to stand.

              “Right over here, Kandi,” Kyle soothes, ushering me to a chair in the group circle. I follow him to the empty chair as I scan the room for Juan’s disheveled black hair. My fingertips tingle when I find his head amidst ten others, with his gargantuan aides breathing down his neck. Juan and I are the only students from Sunny Days who require aides (besides Henry). Somehow this simple fact designates Juan more trustworthy in my eyes.

              “Well,” Miss Eddington huffs as she perches in her chair, “we all know Kandi Levinson. Let’s navigate around the circle and introduce ourselves. Tell us your name and one unique thing about yourself before we begin. Cristina, why don’t you start?”

              Cristina, the Filipino girl to my left, shyly introduces herself and claims she can juggle. The next patient, Haven, is the youngest in the group at fourteen years old. Three patients later, Juan speaks. My knuckles whiten when his onyx eyes meet mine.

              “
Hola
, everyone. I am Juan Chavez, and I like to paint.” He mouths to me:
I found it
.

              I exhale bated breath, then mouth:
Thank you
.

***

              The following evening, Ms. Hendricks rampages through the house in search of her keys. Unfortunately, I incinerated them as punishment for drugging me and dressing me up like a doll.

              “Kandi!” she screeches furiously, flinging the couch pillows across the living room. “Where did you put my keys?”

              Suddenly, the doorbell rings, giving her a five-second window to compose herself. She grunts and straightens her blouse before answering the door.

              “Kyle!” she exclaims warmly, inviting him in with a wave of her arm. “Welcome. Kandi is ready for you.” She glares back at me, and I dramatically blow the key dust from my hand and watch it fly through the air. Her face twists with rage, but she manages to suppress it well in front of my dashing prince.

              I rise from the piano bench and inadvertently scatter glitter over her precious new carpet. My dress, unarguably elegant, is dark green dusted with lighter green sparkles that match my eyes perfectly. It is more revealing than I wish it to be, with a single strap over my left shoulder and nothing over my right. The back is cinched tightly in a series of complicated knots. My hair is pinned like a cinnamon roll low against my neck, with ringlets interspersed along the side. Ms. Hendricks had the audacity to place a small crown on my head like I’m her little princess. And worse, to make up for what I lack in height, she is forcing me to wear six-inch heels. Luckily I won’t be dancing, or my feet would fall off in minutes. She even took the time to dab lip gloss over my lips and increase the volume of my lashes with mascara. I must look like a clown.

              Kyle is clad in a custom-suited tuxedo, and his hair is as dashingly wavy as ever. When he steps into the room, I expect him to vomit. Rather, to my astonishment, his eyes expand and his jaw unhinges. He lifts his free hand to lock his mandible into place.

              Ms. Hendricks smiles proudly. “Isn’t she perfect?” she gushes as she hands him his boutonniere.

              “She is positively effulgent.” He extends the hand with the corsage toward me, unable to tear his eyes away. I wrap the corsage around my wrist while the doctor pins his flower to his chest and pats it for good measure.

              “All right, Kyle. You remember the rules?”

              He nods once. “Yes,” he confirms. “I’ll bring her home by midnight.”

              She laughs and shoves him out the door. “Make sure no one touches her,” she instructs in a singsong voice. She turns back to me and glares so evilly I half expect lasers to fire from her pupils.

              The guards at the entrance to the gymnasium immediately let us through without question. One of the guards even offers to take my coat, but Kyle declines.

              Tasteless music assaults my ears as I enter behind my date. The temperature change from outside to inside is drastic. I remove my coat and pass it to Kyle before I begin to perspire.

              I had anticipated this night to be among the most uncomfortable nights I have ever experienced. I had anticipated stares, people, dim lighting, and headache-inducing bass lines. But I had not anticipated the removal of my coat to be interpreted as an invitation to stop the music and gawk at the mute freak and her 25-year-old date. Crickets chirp ironically, and blinking eyes sound vociferous in the silence, like crashing cymbals.

              The anxiety that had crippled me entering group therapy was vanilla and roses compared to the anxiety bubbling within me now. My heart is pulverizing my ribs, and every breath threatens to be my last.

              Whispers begin to breach the reticence.

              “Eye Kandi is gorgeous!”

              “Yummy.”

              “I have never seen such an adorable couple.”

              “Quick, pull out your phone. We’ve gotta snap pictures of this.”

              “Look at her dress. It must have cost a fortune.”

              “Why is
she
here?”

              Kyle leans over and says something, but his voice is drowned out by the other voices. I can’t clear my head.

              “Guys, play the music!” Kyle yells. “Leave Kandi alone!”

              Gradually, disinterest pervades the crowd, and I suck in air like I had been trapped underwater for several minutes. Kyle escorts me to a nearby refreshment table, and I forget the anxiety and dive head-first into the free punch and snacks. “We just have to remain here for a few hours,” he mutters to himself, wiping his forehead with his green pocket square.

              While piecing on blueberry muffins and cheese-coated crackers, I think of Juan, wishing he was here to tell me what he found in Ms. Hendricks’ office. I also think of my father and his whereabouts now that he is a fugitive. Ms. Hendricks wouldn’t let him find me...

              Who am I kidding? There is not a human mind in the world that can resist his will. Not even Juan could protect me from him. It is only a matter of time before he reintroduces his cold knife to my fragile skin.

              On the return trip to Ms. Hendricks’ mansion, Kyle pulls out his phone and dials her number. She answers after two rings.

              “Everything okay, Kyle?” she inquires.

              Kyle nods like an idiot and glances at me in the passenger seat. “Yes, everything’s fine. We’re on our way back to your place.”

              “So soon?”

              Kyle pauses. “Should we have stayed longer?”

              “Uh... no, um... No, it’s fine. Send Kandi straight to bed. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes or so.”

              “Yes, Ma’am.” He ends the call and pockets his cell. “Doctor Hendricks wants you to go straight to bed when we get back, okay, Kandi?”

              I gaze out the window, praying one of these days I will see a UFO that can fly me out of here.

              Kyle pulls into the lengthy driveway and shuts off the coupe. He steps around the car and opens my door. I follow him inside the house. Ms. Hendricks wants me to go straight to bed, huh? Then straight to bed I will go.

              And not because I’m obedient. I’m simply dead tired.

              As I begin my ascent up the white staircase, Kyle asks, “Do you need anything before I leave? Water? An extra blanket?”

              Aw, how cute. He actually cares. I look approximately in his direction and shake my head. The whites of his eyes nearly explode. I turn back around and press upward to my room, where I may sleep perchance to dream... until the school counselor/Director of Blue Skys injects me with more Theratocin, which will knock me so deep into sleep I will not dream at all.

***

              Since Saturday night, something has changed in Kyle. He won’t stop looking at me, and his cheekbones are ruddier than usual.

              During study hall, he jabbers continuously about his life instead of tinkering on his phone. He smells stronger as well, like he sprayed extra cologne this morning. I attempt to draw a picture, but end up scribbling meaninglessly, distracted by Kyle’s altered behavior. My focus bounces between Henry playing alone with toy trucks on the floor and Kyle’s garrulousness.

              “I never
asked
for this position. I mean, look at me, Kandi, I can’t even…”

              The phrase
“look at me, Kandi”
elicits a knee-jerk response. I look at him.

              For the first time, our eyes meet, and the meager contents of my stomach perform a fast clogging routine. What is going on?

              Kyle’s eyes glaze over, and his face inches closer to mine. Before I can process what he’s doing, his hot, wet lips connect with my own, and the dance in my stomach halts mid-tap.

              I leave my body, and I do not return until Kyle disconnects his mouth to catch his breath. His eyes are no longer glazed, but widened with terror.

              “Kandi!” he pants in surprise, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “I am so sorry! I don’t know what happened!”

              Too late. He’s done it. Just like every other aide before him. My mind spreads its wings and soars to Dreamland while my body endures unquenchable hellfire. I keel off the chair and vomit blood, horrifying Henry – and Kyle even more so. Blood leaks like tears from my eyes. I heave again and again onto the floor while more blood pours from my ears and palms, and heave even after there is nothing left. Over the discord in my head I hear Kyle dial a number and spout panicked orders into his phone.

              “I need an ambulance… lots of blood… I don’t know what’s wrong… soon as you can…”

              I scrawl ‘Juan’ in blood on the floor. He calls Ms. Hendricks, and I lose consciousness.

***

             
Jan. 10, 2017