THIRD PERSON
"I don't know, I don't think I have many talents," Marcy sat at the end of her bed, her feet tucked under as she sat calmly on the bed, facing towards Faith. "I'm going home today, so I suppose I can find something to do," She mumbled, twirling a strand of hair in her fingers. Faith's attention left her friend and moved to her favourite sight; the outside world. She'll be free to explore once more today, but the loneliness creeps back inside to haunt her. What if Marcy forgets her? What if Marcy moves on with her life and leaves Faith to rot alone? Faith will be alone.
Marcy shifts in her position and taps her roommate on the shoulder. "You'll find something to do too, Faith." She speaks with the happiest of tune, but it's hard for Faith to accept, and her smile fades. "My best friend, this brilliant girl named Jemma, will be waiting for me. She can wait for you too." Her melodic voice bounces through the small, quiet room. Faith smiles hesitantly and turns towards her friend, a slight grin forming on her cheeks. The thought that someone would be waiting for her brightens her day. Someone would be there for her. For Faith. The liar.
"Thank you, my little goose." Faith steps closer to Marcy and taps her on the nose. Marcy scrunches her cheeks up, her grin widening as she closes her eyes. "I will find something to do, for you." She tiptoes back to her bedside, flicking through the inked pages of her diary. All the times that she spent explaining to Reyna that the lies were for her own good- were they a waste? All those entries where she wrote to her parents, asking them to call her, to visit, anything- were they a waste? All those times she spent crying alone in the hospital bathroom thinking about how tragic she must look- were they a waste?
Reyna hadn't forgiven her yet. Her parents hadn't forgiven her yet. She has yet to forgive herself. The idea that, for once, someone would be willing to accept her for her flaws seems unrealistic to Faith. Somehow she knows it's real.
She's knocked back into reality by the boisterous knock on the glass door of the hospital room. Marcy bobs her head and exits the room as he steps inside, his pitch black loafers clicking against the white tiles. "Hello, Faith. My name is Grant Swindell," Her heart sinks in her chest. It's Reyna's uncle.
She smiles willingly and turns to face him. "Hello, Mr Swindell," He furthers in the room, collapsing into one of the grey wooden chairs in the corner.
"I wanted to check in with you before you checked out," He adds, straightening his tie. "How are you, Faith?" He brushes a hand through his dark brown hair and smirks. He had never really met his niece's best friend, but he knew that they had grown apart because Faith had lied. He wanted to talk to her about the incident, but he hadn't found the time. Now, as he stares towards the girl who lied to his niece, he can't help but ask her if she is okay.
She combs her brown hair with her fingers. "I'm perfect, sir." She chirps, bobbing her head. The hospital gown falls against her skin as she strides to the greyed chair beside him, perching herself down and grinning widely. "Never have I been better." Her grin widens further, but her eyes drift back to the busy streets down below. His eyes follow hers to the view from the hospital window.
"You can tell me anything, off record. I'm here on personal business, Faith, not official." He adds, resting his palms on her shoulders. She fidgets, but doesn't move. Her eyes are locked on the outside world as she straightens her hospital gown, eyeing the diary in the corner of her eye. Grant frowns as she edges herself further from him.
"I'm not stupid." All of her life, she had thought she was smart. She thought she'd be some prodigy child or something, or she'd apply for some scholarship to an Ivy League school, but she wasn't that smart, and she wasn't fit for an Ivy League school. "It's no use asking me. I have nothing left to give." The distant sounds of the hospital echo in the back of her head. The ringing bells chime from the upper floors of the hospital.
"You don't have to lie to me too, Faith." He pipes in, scooting closer to her. She edges further from him, barely perched on the wooden chair. Grant coughs, rising from his seat as Faith does too. She stands in the centre of the room, frozen for a single moment. Grant pauses beside her. "I don't want to frighten you." He pauses with his hands to his side, resisting the urge to treat this girl like his niece. He wants to place his arms on her shoulders and hug her, but this girl is a stranger. He can't protect her.
She turns her back to him. "Leave me alone. Please." He steps backwards as her voice raises. "Just stop dragging me down!" She screams, pushing her hands in his direction. Her fingers collide with his arms, and she collapses back against the bedside table. Tears form in her eyes. "Go. Go before I hurt you too much." Teardrops cascade down her scarlet cheeks. He's left speechless.
-----
Helena pauses to stare out the window. A mother caresses her child after he falls on the concrete pathway. She brushes his hair to the side, kissing his forehead. Helena smiles. That'll be her one day, won't it? She watches him smile up to his mother, and the smile that embraces the mother is a smile worth waiting for. There's no way Helena would give up the possibility of someone like that, even if it is Adam's.
Peter and Reyna nudge her on the shoulder. "Hey, what's up?" Peter speaks, sipping from the cappuccino in the light cocoa brown mug. Reyna checks his phone before nodding with Peter.
"Well, I've got something to say." The smile disappears from her face as she watches the mother and son disappear from the street in the corner of her eye. The happiness she saw with that family is something she wants. She had to admit to her friends that she was having this baby. Her friends waited anxiously for the next words to exit her mouth. She swallows and begins to speak. "Well, uh, I have some exciting news from the doctor..." Peter and Reyna nodded in anticipation of the exciting news. "I visited the doctor because I was feeling sick, but it turns out I'm actually-"
"You're pregnant! I'm so happy for you!" Reyna exclaims, almost jumping up from her chair. Peter smiles, lifting his head from his phone. Helena's grin suddenly widens more than ever and in this moment, she's happier than she had ever been. To know that she can bring this child into the world and raise them to grow up to be someone great for this world amazes her. "Are you having a boy or a girl?" Her eyes twitch as she stares at her two friends.
"Well, I want a surprise," Helena replies. "You know, when I give birth to him or her, I'll be happy without having known beforehand. It'll be fine to know he or she is mine." Her two friends smile and nod, because they know in their hearts that she'll be the perfect mother to this child. Peter types a message on his phone before Helena begins to confess. In her heart, they need to know who the father is, and that she doesn't care about him anymore.
"I have something to say, and it has to do with the baby." She frowns, tilting her head to the side. Her frown furthers when she notices Peter constantly texting someone. She continues the conversation. "Adam's the father." The two friends freeze at the table. Reyna places the cappuccino down.
"That's great! You're back together." Reyna chirps, her eyes wide. Helena didn't like the idea of talking about Adam at all, but keeping this boiled up inside broke her heart and she didn't want to give birth to a lie. Peter lifted his head to rejoin the conversation, nodding and smiling.
"No, we're not." Reyna's smile dropped. "Adam...well, he...he raped me." Peter and Reyna's jaws dropped at the sound of her voice, those words passing through her lips. "We were at a party, and I couldn't help but want him. It was foolish of me to think that nothing would come from this." She replies, sinking her head into her hands. The image of the mother and her son dissipated from her memory thinking about everything she will face with him. It's best he never knows about the baby, she thought to herself.
"Helena, we didn't know." Peter piped in apologetically, reaching his arm across the table to hold her hand. A smile embraces her cheeks. She had to appreciate the fact that in such a short amount of time she found two people to love so much. Adam doesn't matter anymore. Nobody matters except the people she loves most and this baby. As long as Reyna, Peter and Marie are close to her in this time of need, all will be well.
Peter dips his head to text once more, Reyna's eyes drifting from Helena to him. "Hey, what's up?" She says, directing the attention of the conversation to him. He clicks the phone off.
"Oh," He replies, biting his lip. His eyes are foggy clouds as he clears his throat, resting the silver phone on the table in front of him. "I suppose I have news too." He swallows the bile in his throat, a single tear streaming softly down his pale cheeks. "Jasper's dead," The room falls to a dramatic silence. "and it's all my fault."
-----
Marcy stands alone in the middle of the line, standing behind a lanky blonde wearing a singlet and light blue pants. He runs his fingers through his short cut hair, shifting his feet in position impatiently. Behind her, a short woman wearing heels to cover her shortness, texts to her boyfriend, who is arguing whether they should order pizza or Chinese for dinner that night. The girl suggests Indian, but he complains about the curry. Marcy drains out the clicking of her fingers against the keys.
She drowns out the entire outside world. It's been barely hours since her release, yet she hasn't found the time to be alone, until now. Standing in line to buy milk. She said goodbye to Jemma half an hour ago, after they talked about everything. It seemed like it was forever since they last sat together without the eerie hospital staff stalking her like a hawk. The blonde guy in front steps up to the pay at the register.
Marcy stands in her own world inside her mind. The people behind her are nothing but distant thoughts in her empty presence. Finally, she can be alone. It doesn't last, and the clicking of the cashier register wakes her. The chainsaw flickers in her mind; the attacker stalking her through the dark alley. A scream exits her lips.
She collapses to the floor, covering her ears. The woman behind her offers her hand to offer support, tossing her phone into her pocket. The cashier stares in horror as Marcy's screams morph into cries, her eyes darting around the room. The chainsaw in her nightmare collides with her flesh. In the real world, the short woman presses her palm on Marcy's shoulder. She snaps.
"Nice kitty!" She screams, resting her head in her hands. The clicking of the chainsaw halts in her mind. She clutches at her stomach, but it all ends and her cries halt. The supermarket store is left silent, and Marcy rises to her feet, drying the tears from her eyes. The milk is no longer in her hands and she runs from the store, leaving everyone gasping.
-------
She's stiff. Frozen behind the metal bars of the greyed building. The escape she dreams about will never happen. She will never see the sunlight pouring in from her apartment window again. She hasn't seen a pole that isn't just a pole in what seems like an eternity. The clicking tongues of the surrounding inmates cave in as she bites her lip, frozen behind those grey bars. Guards line the halls like the security cameras, beading crimson eyes of light peering around the corners and nooks of the prison. On occasion, the other inmates would turn and stare as she walked out into the cafeteria, their writhing voices mumbling whispers under their breath. When everyone thinks you're some serial killer, you only ever draw the short straw.
Elise shot up, opening her eyes. That one dream has happened twice now. Is her future now leading to all that? She rubs her eyes, staring around the cold holding cell. A guard peeks his head through the bars, grinning. "You're awake. Finally," Her father's voice fills her ears as she remembers those cold Saturday mornings when life was far from this. When life was peaceful. She could see her father clearly now in the back of her mind, him standing in front of her, leaning against the door frame.
The guard snaps his fingers in the air, and she shoots out of the dream. The looming metal bars collapse towards her as she tosses her feet off the scrappy bedsheets. Her bare feet scrape against the cold silver floor. She bites her lip. As much as she hates the irritating feeling that swells up whenever she is forced to work at the strip club, any shift would be better than this hell hole. "You like living here?" He spits, winking to her. She brushes him off, peeking out the miniature window on the back wall. Suddenly, an lightbulb sparks and she has an idea.
"If you want a lap dance," she adds, her feet gliding towards the bars of the holding cell, "help me out. I'm really lonely." The guard licks his lips, and she smiles, battering her eyelids. He digs his hands into the pockets of pants, but stops before he removes the keys.
"I'm not supposed to let out the prisoners," he questions himself, winking to Elise. Her hands trace around his other palm as he retreats his right hand from his pocket. No keys. Back at the club, she swore that she could easily attract men towards her. Some men aren't so easy to attract. The guard tilts his head slightly before his wide grin grows wider. He can't help himself as she flashes her teeth. "I suppose just this once..."
He draws the keys from his pocket. He unlocks the gate, freeing Elise from her metal prison. "Thank you, sir," she laughs, dancing her way out of the cell. The guard laughs too, closing shut the gate as Elise presses herself against his muscular figure. She whispers into his ear with undeniable passion. "Have I been a bad, bad girl?" The guard tilts his head to kiss her, but she's fast. She knocks him to the floor, sweeping the keys out from his pocket and drifting away from him. Escaping would do nothing. She'd be caught, eventually. She'd be on the run.
She snaps out of the vision to feel the guards soft on her skin, his sweet lips caressing her neck. Escaping with his keys would be useless in this world. Marie will save her.
Elise is just lonely.
-------
"Hey, can we make this quick?" His voice echoes in the empty room. He shuts the door behind him, eyeing the barely empty room. The only thing in the room, besides him, is a single chair. A single chair in the centre in the room, directly under an old-fashioned light fixture. He moves to the centre of the room, his eyes lingering into the corners of the minuscule room.
"Yes, we can," she murmurs, stepping into the light. Her dark hair catches against the light. "It's pleasant to see you again, Peter," She extends her palm to offer a handshake, and he accepts. A smile forms on her face as she treads further into the light. She tosses the blood-stained knife onto the concrete floor.
"Thank you for killing him," he responds, his eyes staring down to the silver blade of the knife. Olive sits down on the wooden chair, straightening her sapphire blue pencil skirt. "Do you still have his body?" He asks her, slipping his fingers around the knife as he bends down. Olive smirks.
"Do you want to tell me why you wanted him dead?" She adds, asking the one question she hadn't before. Usually, when somebody asked her to get something done for them, she didn't argue. It was business, and she didn't need the extra baggage. This case felt different; it felt like Peter wasn't just asking for someone to die. So Olive had to ask that single question. She would get her answer. Hopefully.
Peter sighs. "He betrayed me," he pauses, lifting his head from her gaze and staring towards the doorway. "We were in love, but I thought he died. It should have stayed that way," he speaks, stepping away from her. With the knife still in his palm, he moves closer to the door, before pausing to turn back to Olive. Deep inside, he's glad that Jasper is dead, after all he did ask for it, but on the surface he keeps up the act that he's depressed. Everyone must see that he truly is missing Jasper. It's just not true in his heart or in his mind. He opens his mouth to speak, "You and I both know the consequences of dealing with Persephone."
"I do know." She replies, rising from the chair. Peter's grip on the knife falters and it slips from his grasp. The silver metal bounces on the concrete floor, barely missing his feet. "You did what you had to, Peter." She adds, stepping behind the chair. Her slim fingers reach to turn off the light as Peter opens the heavy door. The moment she pulsed that knife deeper into Jasper's flesh felt surreal in the moment, but now, looking back, she felt like she had done something someone would be proud to look back on. Murder is a sin, but Jasper had sinned enough. It didn't matter. Having drained the blood from his body, Olive had felt at free. Now, knowing he must have been working with The Devil's Bride made contaminating his soul with the violent scream of death even more satisfying.
Peter stands halfway between the outside world and inside the small room. "I'll see you around, Winters." He brushes the loose strands of hair from his face and turns away from her.
"I'll see you around, O'Brien," she replies, but by now, he's gone; the door shut firmly behind him. Olive stands alone in the darkness as the light flickers out. The shadows creep around her. The empty room seems even more emptier as she stares around in the darkness. She sighs. Killing Jasper wasn't enough.
Why hasn't she killed the biggest sinner of them all?