Eighteen: Donovan’s P.O.V
The doctors actually let me go into Marilyn’s cell. I think they think I’m helping her get better. Maybe I am. I haven’t heard any screaming or cursing either. Maybe I am helping her. Maybe showing her affection is helping her. Maybe that’s all that Marilyn needs to stay somewhat sane. She needs love. I won’t be able to fully cure her, but maybe showing her love and affection keeps her homicidal feelings at bay.
I know she won’t ever be able to love me back, but I’m admitting to myself that I love her.
I’m sitting in History class when Everett taps my shoulder. He leans up from his seat which is behind me, and whispers in my ear.
“I heard that you slept with mental Marilyn,” Everett whispers.
“You make it sound dirty. I did sleep in her cell with her sleeping against me,” I reply.
“You have a crush on her, don’t you? You love mental Marilyn,” Everett says. I sink into my seat, and look back up at the teacher who is droning on about the civil war.
Word does travel quickly around the place that I do love mental Marilyn, and there are mixed reactions. Most people are saying that she’s never going to love me back, or it’s just a trick so she can kill me, but I know that she won’t. I know she won’t love me back, and I know she won’t kill me.
At dinner, I’m looking off into space when Evan pokes me in the arm with his fork.
“Dude, people are saying you love mental Marilyn,” Evan says. I sigh.
“Yes, okay? I love her. I’m the only person here who shows her one bit of affection. On family visitation day, the doctors didn’t feed her or let her go to the bathroom,” I say, in her defense.
“She’s insane, Donovan. She will hurt you. She can’t love you back. There’s no way you’d be able to have kids with her. She’d go crazy and kill them,” Malcolm says. I slam my hands on the table.
“I know that. I know that she’s crazy. But, she can’t help it. She doesn’t decide that she’s going to be a psychopath. It’s not her fault. She was born with mental illnesses,” I defend. Everyone looks at me, and I sink down in my seat. I finish my food, and go back to my room to lie down for a while before arts and crafts time, which I hate. They treat us like little kids during arts and crafts.
I don’t think Marilyn is bad. She’s just misunderstood and lonely. She has mental illnesses, and everyone just calls her crazy. They don’t really know her.
I doze off, and miss arts and crafts. It’s ten by the time I wake up, and I go into the bathroom and shower before going to see Marilyn. I want to smell good, okay?
I walk down the hall, and the guards let me into her cell. She’s lying on her back, kicking the padded cell wall in front of her.
“Hi, Donovan,” She says, looking at me. I even see her smile, which is something I hadn’t seen since she beat me up. I walk over to her, and she sits up, letting me sit down next to her.
“I wish I could get out of this place,” Marilyn sighs, a while later. She looks up at me, and leans against the wall on her left.
“I wish I could find some way to get you out, but then I’d get in trouble with the police, and I can’t do that again. I’m already in enough trouble with them as is. I burned a high school to the ground. No one was hurt, but still. I got in trouble,” I say. Marilyn sighs, and rests up against me, her head on my shoulder. I put my arm around her.
“Donovan, you know I can’t love you back, right? If you love me, I can’t love you back. I can’t love. It’s not something I was born with the ability to do. I lack empathy. I don’t connect with people. I’m a psychopath, and I will be for the rest of my life,” Marilyn says. She knows I love her, and I do.
“Marilyn, I do love you. I really do. I don’t care if I’m the only one. I do love you,” I say. Marilyn looks stunned for a moment. I’m looking her in the eyes, and we both don’t know what’s going to happen next.
In a split second, Marilyn leans up and kisses me.