My heart beats, and blood runs through my veins. My mind is still active even though my body is still. I can't look at me anymore. Just the sight of me makes me shake to my core. So I move to the window and see girls and boys, of all colors and sizes rushing to a beautiful towering white building. I hear the pring of the bell and instantly know what the white building is. It must be the church and its 9 o'clock church bells echoing off the castle walls. I never worked on Sundays I never saw the crowd that flowed into the God loving building. This isn't the church that Mitch and his father go to either, but I know what it is. Something that beautiful can only be one thing.
I push myself further out the window to see a few stragglers running towards the old building. A final bell chimes and the doors close with a slam as a skirt disappears beyond the door. My mind stays transfixed for a moment or two while I watch the light reflex in the stain glass.
"Are you going to go down?"
"What did you say?" I jump with surprise at the voice and immediately turn to the noise. "Hello?" I call and run to the door.
"Yeah, I know I'm late but" a new voice says and my shoulder sag in realization, they weren't talking to me. "Better late than never, that's what ma said anyway."
"Hello?" I say again, all enthusiasm gone.
"Well see you in there then, gotta get cleaned up." The guard waves goodbye to his companion and leaves me to talk to myself again. That sliver of hope brings me back to the window, back to the church, along with a wave of emotions both good and bad. I slouch against the window and see the wind as it whips around the room causing the small torn curtains to fly slightly in the breeze. Me however, I'm still and unwavering in everything but my faith, that part of my life disappeared a long time ago. I try and feel the breeze hit me but I can't. I try and absorb the light but it fades right through me. Sadness takes over again. Years ago that would have been me. I would have been rushing through the church doors at the final bell with my parents at my heels. But now this is me, pricked then trapped, and now possibly, maybe, hopefully not but my odds don't look good... stuck.
*********
"Come on mama"
"Shhh, honey we are already late, we have to be quiet" she holds up a finger to her lips "be quiet" she repeats.
"There's mitch" I whisper shout and move towards him.
"Go sneak a seat next to him" the choir is still singing so our hushed voices are only heard by those we pass. I run up next to him and he gives me hug before I sit, my parents soon sit behind us next to Darius, Mitch's father.
"I knew you were coming" Mitch whispers as he takes a seat once the song is done "I told dad to save your parents a seat too." He jabs a finger back at our parents.
"Thanks" I whisper, seeing my mom's raised brow ready to quiet me again.
"You missed your favorite song" he states.
"Which one?" I ask, "I have a lot of favorite songs."
"You know the one..." he spins his fingers and wiggles his shoulders "the one that goes..." He mumbles a melody, but not one I recognize. Darius gives Mitch a tap on the shoulder shushing him and a silent 'hello' to me. "You know that one?" he asks quietly seeing the pastor come out on stage.
"No I don't" his face falls slightly "but I'll take your word for it" I say with a laugh, I look up to the pearl white podium and the sermon starts.
**********
It has been two weeks... two weeks of Dr. Arren along with all the other random useless people that call themselves doctors. I haven't seen Dr. Manson since that first day he came and I am glad to not have to see him snake smile again. Although my initial encounter with Peter was less than satisfactory, he grew on me over time. Peter starts coming regularly with Arren, and it makes me feel like I have friends. They talk about me at times but they also talk to me, which is pointless because they can't hear me respond but, I do appreciate being included.
Arren came yesterday and I don't remember if he said he was coming back today or coming back soon. All the days seem to blur together when every day is the same. Wake up, get poked, talk with Arren or Matthews, get poked some more, and watch the world move without me, right outside my little window.
No one is here yet, someone usually comes in before the crack of dawn to poke at me, but not today, today feels different. I rise up to find the sun a quarter in the sky, as the wind whips through the room, blowing the curtain out of its way. I hear a soft pitter patter coming from the entrance of the palace. Maybe today is the day they find a cure. Or maybe today will be my last, my brief hope disintegrates. That is another thing that keeps the days blurring together, but also distinguishing them apart... Yesterday I was alive, will I still be tomorrow?
The pitter patter of feet turn to thuds as they approach my end of the hall. The thuds come from the hallway right outside my door, a rather loud amount of boots for this time. But my ears are correct in thinking that the boots are the king's private guard. I hear the door knob giggle and open slightly, but then a pause stops it from opening further. I move to the door and try to tidy myself, I'm not sure why I bother but its customary to look your best when the royal family approaches, even if they are dreadful people, it has become a habit. As I peer out the crack in the door I see the king himself standing impatiently at my door.
The king hasn't bothered with me for the past two weeks. I thought he forgot I was here or wasn't informed of the newest, sickest occupant in his palace. The king taps his fingers anxiously against his thigh as he waits, but what is he waiting for? He takes a slight step back as a guard opens the door fully. Three guards file in ahead of the king, squishing past him to check the room. Then before my brain can take in the moment, the guards surrounded the king once again as he enters.
I cautiously look down to the king, questioning why is he here. Why is he in my room? Why now after so long? I think to open my mouth, to ask a question, or to beg for mercy but I was taught to never speak to them directly and not to look them in the eyes. I was already on thin ice just being allowed to stay here so even though they can't see me I am sure that if my ghost does do anything unprofessional I am sure to be removed immediately. I don't want to test my limits, even if I am invisible.
"Why haven't we figured her out yet?" The kings voice booms as he speaks but he doesn't allow anyone time to answer. "Who is she?" He questions looking around the room at his clueless company. "Why is she still here?" The flails his arms about in outrage. "Fix her or dispose of her!" He is not a tall man but his presence fills the room. All the towering guards seem miniscule next to his 5 foot 4 personality and power. And I suddenly feel as small as he yells down at my sleeping body. He looks around to the group, they stand still and unwavering. My eyes go from wide with amazement and fear, to threaded with anger, fix or dispose? I question as I take a strong step towards him.
"This is just another reason why no one likes you." I spur walking over to stomp on his foot. It does no damage but it makes me feel the slightest bit better. I look him in the eyes and speak rubbish words at him, "if I'm going to be removed then I going to let out all my emotions on you! All my anger!" Words spill out of me but as soon as he opens his mouth I silence and shrivel back.
"Well?!" The king asks, it comes out as a demand and none of the guards have an answer. "Get the physician." He says to no one in particular but two guards rush out of the room and stampede off in different directions leaving three more guards still posted at the door and window.
The king's foot begins to tap impatiently as he waits for answers Dr. Mason doesn't have.
Tap, tap, tap.
Then his pace quickens as a bead of sweat rolls down his forehead. He cracks his knuckles and clenches his jaw, eyes narrowed in on me. His irritation only makes my anger grow.
"I don't want to be here!" I scream.
Tap, tap, tap.
"Get rid of me for all I care."
His foot stops and I shut my mouth and hold my tongue. Did he hear me? I wait, holding my breath afraid to move. He is looking right at me, really looking at me. I wait, still afraid to breathe. I'm standing as still as can be but my mind keeps running in circles around me, begging for answer, a cure, something sure. His foot begins to tap again and he breaks his harsh stare. I gasp out a breath, did he see me?
Tap, tap, tap.
He couldn't have.
"Hello your highness" Manson comes through the door a guard following close behind. Manson opens his mouth to speak but the king is in no mood to listen.
"Why is she still here?"
"Well-"
"Who is she?"
"I-"
"Is she a criminal?"
"Not entirely" I cut in.
"Well-"
"What's wrong with her?" he screams down and Manson looks as though he might soil himself.
"That's-"
"You know nothing!" The king scolds and beckons his guards nearer. Manson is speechless and his face burns red with anger? Embarrassment? Fear? The king now thoroughly surrounded by guards, they stand arms crossed and eyes narrowed in on his newest victim. I do nothing, there is nothing I can do. I watch. I forget to breathe so I let out my breath and it is the only thing I hear in this deathening silence.
Manson, no longer brave and invincible now kneads his hands together and voids his eyes from the king. Knees narrow, shoulders hunched, his face is going from red hot to a pale white, fast. I see a sliver of movement from the door and notice Charles. He stays at the doorway and hides partially but peers enough to see what is to come of his master. The king drops his hands to his side, unclenches his fingers and lets out a deep whooshing breathe. He relaxes, just slightly. Manson's eyes drift up and he must see this too, for he looks up slightly at the king but his eye not fully reaching his face.
"Your highness..." Manson stops, knuckles turning white in his large blistered hand, afraid to continue on. The king's foot begins to tap again. The hitting pattern makes my brain hurt and then that's the only thing I can focus on.
Tap, tap, tap.
I see Manson's Adam's apple bob violently as he swallows down his fear.
Tap, tap, tap.
Manson's lip quivers unwilling to speak.
Tap, tap, tap.
Both Manson and the king open their mouths to speak but the king is fast and firm the words just about to leave his mouth.
Tap, tap, tap.
Manson's small, scared, sad eyes spread across his face but before anyone can say anything, giggles came from the hallway.
"Aurora darling" The king's voice, posture, and attitude change completely when his daughter walks past the room.
"Yeeesss?" She says with a smile as she bounds through the door with her beautiful Cavalier King Charles spaniel, Quincey, prancing in with her. She waves bye to her friend or tutor or servant. Whoever can tolerate her.
"Darling, do you know who this is?" He loosely gestures to me not taking his eyes off of his beautiful daughter. She peers around him her smile fading to curiosity. The moment passes like a ticking bomb ready to explode. Her dog breaks free from Aurora's side and moves to me, sniffing furiously at my body. Aurora moves closer to get a better look nudging her dog to the side. Quincey then moves to me, now sniffing the air where I stand. I move away from the dog but he follows me as I move. I lean down to him and hold out a hand, can you see me? I think and reach out to pet him. He licks the air where is sit causing the king and Aurora to give him strange looks.
Aurora straightens and looks to her father and then simply, "no, I don't know her" and she bounds off to the hallway again. I suppose I'm glad she doesn't recognize me because if she did she might have had me killed for stealing her jewels, pocket mirrors, even a dress once or twice for the fabric. "Come Quincey" she calls from the hall but Quincey stays at my side. "Quincey!" she yells and stomps back into the room. "What are you doing?" she grabs at his jewel engraved collar and drags him out the room but he keeps turning back to face me.
I have to admit that I wanted her to remember and give me some meaning in life outside of doctors but its better that she didn't. But her dog, maybe he can give them a message for me, I don't know how but somehow he saw me. The king watches his daughter leave and as soon as she is out the door his smile turns sour, no not sour, but devious.
"Fix it or get rid of it" the king said through gritted teeth.
"There are many people... um doctors from all the regions coming to see..." Manson's eyes swerve to me... "Um her." He moves his hand so slightly towards me but the king keeps his gaze laser focused on Manson as if he is ready to kill.
"Fix or gone." Then he left, without another word, seeming to think that this conversation is now over.
"Fix or gone." Mason repeats quietly while bowing his head as the king passes and keeping his head down. "Fix or gone."
Fix. Gone. I can't fathom this whole situation. I thought I was stuck before but, this in between of waiting to be fixed or getting removed now hanging over me. I shake my head away from the idea of being removed, dwelling on it wouldn't do me any good.
The guards leave with the king but Manson remains a moment longer unable to gather his bearings and navigate outside to the real world, the world of fixable people. After what felt like an eternity of Manson repeating 'fix or gone' he finally stands straight and marches away his once confident stance slow and shaky. Once Manson does leave though the room is deathly quiet and the castle itself seems to sigh along with me. This room will soon be vacant, and my body will be left in a pile waiting for an unknown funeral.
If Mitch does come back, he will think I am angry with him. He must think I don't care. What if he came back, and he's looking for me right now. My eyes flash around the empty room. He won't know I'm here. I rush to the window and peer through the bars but amongst all the people walking and shopping, the only thing that catches my eye is the pastor and his wife. Pray for me I start to think but lean in closer to see their faces are just as miserable as mine. I can't hear them but his face scrunches like he's angry or sad and her eyes are puffy from tears. Everyone has something going on in their lives whether it be good or bad. It's not my place to ask for help when others have problems of their own. My problem is much bigger and way more important but still, somehow it feels like cheating. Asking someone to pray when I no longer believe in what they are praying to. I watch him wipe away her tears only for new ones to fall, the gesture is sweet and simple, she smiles through her sadness anyway. I turn back to my bed forgetting my initial goal. I am here in the palace this whole time and now, Mitch I think again and I rush back to the window. I search the streets once again looking for anyone that might be Mitch but, there are so many men about our age and none as wonderful as my Mitch. The pastor and his wife are gone and a plethora of people have exploded from somewhere causing a commotion of men, women and children to roam blocking any chance of finding Mitch even if he is here.
"Please" I beg to the sun and the wind and trees. "Please find someone to fix me, please." I think back to Quincey, the only living thing that was able to see me. Maybe I can tell the dog to tell someone I'm alive in here. I chuckle at the thought of a dog talking.