inferno | 18+

VIII

"Oh but that's the irony,
broken people are not fragile."
-Clinton Sammy Jr

ZAKARIA

She hasn't been here for 4 days. They keep sending some mediocre smelling old hag into me, instead of calling Devina back to work. And it's starting to make me insane. More than I apparently am. Is she with her husband? Or did she quit her job, because she couldn't handle the manic episodes I brought? Either way it's starting to piss me off. The old hag they sent me told me I was doing better, and that I stopped showing resistance. I had to laugh. Clearly these fucking imbeciles know knothing about acting - they thought I would kill that poor old lady with my mind.

I sit up from my bed and stare at my reflection in the mirror. The bags under my eyes are dragging down my face, and if we're being a hundred percent honest, it looks like my face is melting. I am not an animal they can cage in, and expect not to go actually insane. I stand up, the rage from my own face bubbling at the tips of my fingers, right before the door to my room opens. I don't even want to turn my face. I already expect the same old hag that's been here for 4 days straight, but when I hear a pair of heels I halt in my movement.

The old hag wears flats.

Slowly, I turn my head and see the devil Herself. She stands in her heels, that pencil skirt and flared shirt. She's wearing her doctor's coat, and clings to her godforsaken clipboard. Something about her is different though. I turn my entire body to meet hers, and detect the cut at her lip that's covered in cakey substance. I take a step closer, just to double check that I'm not imagining this right now. She gulps, as I raise my hand to touch whatever the fuck happened to her face.

She doesn't flinch, but I can sense her energy is off. If I did that 4 days ago she would've grabbed my hand and threatened to cut it off (one can hope) but something is different. She is different. "Did you cut yourself?" I ask her. She nods her head, but still hasn't opened her mouth yet, letting her blessed voice make my eardrums splutter. "How?" I incline my head her way, and she shrugs her shoulders. "Why aren't you talking?"

She does nothing for what seems like an eternity, until she finally takes a deep breath, and opens her mouth. Nothing but weird noises leave her mouth - it sounds like she's suffocating on a bag of dicks. Her eyes start watering, and I can't feel anything. I don't understand why she's crying as we speak, all I know is one side of her lip is bigger than the other. I take a step closer, and put my hands on her shoulder. She shudders, and I look at her.

All I see is my mother, crying in the corner after my dad was done taking his rage out on her. How she'd shudder whenever Malik would help her to her feet, to get her cleaned up. How the busted lip my dad's family ring would give her, would keep her quiet for at least a week.

I take a deep breath and remove my hands from her shoulders. I stand lean and tall before her.

"Who did this to you?" I ask her, my voice stern and harder than stones.

She starts shaking violently, and if this was a joking matter I'd say she was having an exorcism. The tears start falling down her face, and I still don't know what to do. Does she want a hug? Does she want me to tell her to leave my room? Does she want to be alone? Under all these questions, I'm hoping, wishing and praying that she asks me to kill the sad motherfucker who put a hand on her. She's barely able to let anything out of her mouth.

I look down at her, trying to notice anything different. Pencil skirt? Check. Black Vivenne Westwood heels? Check. White flannel blouse? Check. Wedding ring? X mark. I take a step back, and look at her shaken form, the tears lubricating her face. Her busted lip, that's she's tried to cover up with makeup. All of it clicks in my head, like I've found the missing puzzle.

"Your husband," is all I say. Another sob escapes her mouth, and like reality has hit her, she scrabbles herself together, and leaves my room. I stay on my feet for a while, letting what just happened sink into my brain. And then I walk toward my bed, lift the mattress, grab the key-card that's my only way out of this shithole, lay in my bed, and wait for lights out.

***

The lights go out at 8. The blinds get rolled down right before the lights go out. I have no idea how dark it actually is outside, but we're about to find out. I let thirty long minutes pass by, and when I finally hear the night nurse scoff, and smack her hands down on her thighs I know it's almost time. I get up from my bed, and walk toward the door. For some reason, my heart is pounding in my chest. What if it doesn't work? What if it starts the alarm they all reassured me exists (the one I've never heard)?

I take a deep breath, and swipe the key card, waiting for the red light to flash in my face and for the piercing alarm to start. Instead a green light flashes, and I hear the door unlock. I don't waste a minute standing there with my jaw on the floor - every minute is worth something. As deadly as I am, this is unknown territory. I have no idea how people function here, how they navigate around. The outside of my room looks nothing like I'd imagined it. A long hallway, with white floors lay right ahead of me. Lights from the floor light up the path, and without thinking twice I walk down.

The night nurses' footsteps disappeared quickly - this hallway is too long to be the easiest way to get out. I halt halfway and look back toward my cell door. It closed behind me. I walk back toward it, the key card burning me like vervain would a vampire. I look right. Nothing. I look left. Red light. I grin, and walk left from my room, following the red light which indicates the emergency exit, in case of fire blah blah blah. The closer I get to the exit the harder my heart starts beating.

All my men on the outside have no idea today is the day I start killing motherfuckers. I stop right in front of the door. It is in fact an emergency exit. The smell of cigarettes flares up my nostrils, and I don't spare a minute. I push the door open, and the yellow sundown hits my eyes. I squint, and look around trying to get my eyes to adjust so I can get the hell out of here.

It takes a small minute before I see the famous night nurse standing up against a brick wall a few blocks away from the door. She's smoking a cigarette. I start walking toward her. I can see from a mile away that her eyes have gone wide, and she almost looks like she's fearing for her life. My grin widens, and I cut the small piece between us short. She drops the cigarette to the ground, looking like she's seen a ghost.

"Now," I bend down, picking up the cigarette, taking a long drag from it. "Won't you be a real sweetheart and tell me where I can find Ms Baqri's residence?"