A MONTH PASSES IN a blur.
I'd say it was like watercolors fading into a canvas ... But it wasn't.
It was horrible.
Living an asylum is not easy. Sleeping on weird springs not good enough to be called mattresses, served amorphous lumps as an excuse for food can't be anywhere near any sort of humane living standards. I almost burnt my hand touching the food tray once, but Juliette had saved me at the last moment. They served it hot on purpose, knowing that driven by our starvation we would hurt ourselves touching the tray. The soaps in the showering section feel like slime. My hair is getting frizzier and my skin rougher.
But being with Juliette here makes it better.
Juliette and I talk. She tells me stuff about herself. I tell her about me. It wasn't easy at first, she used to stay silent only making small talk occasionally. Like she didn't believe me to exist. I'd pinch her to show that I was alive. I had to stay patient with her so that she could actually let me in.
And I felt as if she wasn't used to talking much.
We fell into a pattern. Her talking. Me talking. Sometimes we're both silent. Listening to the shrill screams that echoed around our little room. They gave me shudders and I covered my ears. Sometimes our cell, which I don't know why Juliette calls a room, is filled with our giggles and laughter.
Sometimes.
She tells me the stories she's read, the books and novels. I tell her about movies, books and games. Even songs. And my certain empathy towards early twenty-first century songs. The first time I genuinely saw sadness in her eyes was when I told her about how the Reestablishment plans to destroy all of history, languages, books and all the historical places to get a fresh start.
You can't make a fresh start without keeping your history with you. Not the burden of it but what you've learned from it.
And throughout my stay, Juliette's been the perfect sister, companion and cellmate.
Well, sort of.
"It goes like 'La la love me like—'" I start to sing.
Juliette groans and puts her hands over her ears. "Please don't."
I feel offended because she only does that when the screaming starts. And my voice isn't professionally good or anything but it's not that bad. And the fact that she didn't even fake that it's good is stinging.
"Hey!" I whine. "It's a nice song."
"It is." She admits. "But it's getting boring, listening to you hoarsely sing songs from the twenty-tens."
"I love the twenty-tens music." I retort. "And I don't have a hoarse voice. I mean, come on. Juliette. I'm no professional singer. Cut me some slack."
"That's not what I meant." She rolls her eyes. "Tell me a story instead."
"Speaking of stories, did you throw away that journal?" I ask, innocently. "I haven't seen it around."
She smirks. "Still trying to find it so you can read it?"
Yes, I'm guilty. I have been trying, with all my power, to get my hands on my sister's journal. But unfortunately, my sister is very good at reading people because she can definitely see through me when I think of some plan to get my hands on it. I have been trying for a month, it is not easy. Even though we both happen to live in the same cell, there is never a chance where I can even get a sneak peek at the journal.
I don't know where she's hidden it, usually she hides it in one of the creaks in the walls.
It's been two days and I haven't even seen it. I'll admit, I'm getting more and more flustered by the fact that she may have thrown it somewhere. I desperately need to read it.
Not because of anything nefarious. But because I haven't so much as held a book and ages. And the asylum is the furthest thing from a place that could offer something to quench my bibliophilic urges.
"Me? Read it?" I give out a forced laugh. My voice is incredibly high for a normal person. "Are you crazy? Why would I want to do such a thing?"
"To know what I was going through when you weren't here." She states.
My jaw falls open. "W-What? How did you—"
It is impossible for her to know the exact thing I had been saying in my head. Impossible. I eye her, skeptically.
"Is there some mind-reading power you haven't told me about?" I demand.
She shrugs, her face innocent. "Maybe."
"How did you know?"
She smiles and I almost faint. It's cocky. "You talk in your sleep."
My jaw falls open again. I know that I talk in my sleep, I am well aware of that. That's also one of the reasons why I avoided sleepovers during school. But speaking my thoughts during my sleeptalk—that's new, even to me.
"And you listened?" I demand.
She shrugs. "I had nothing better to do."
"You could have ignored me."
She winces. "You were loud."
"Forget that." I say, trying to steer the conversation away from my weird sleep-talking. "So, what did you do that with the journal."
"You're not reading it." She snaps.
"Why not?" I almost whine.
"No."
"That doesn't answer my question." I point out. "Why?"
She doesn't answer instead she turns to look towards the glass window. I roll my eyes. Juliette has this weird fantasy that the outer world is better than the world in here—it's not. The Reestablishment is changing everything. They had promised us protection, a new start blah blah. But instead they took away all of our history, our books, our religions, our religious festivals and everything that made us who we are and threw them in a trashcan.
"Fine." I snap, crossing my arms over my chest. "Be like that. Ignore me. Give me the silent treatment. Go ahead. You won't hear me complain."
I huff and march towards my so-called bed. Throwing myself on the it, I kick off my worn blue sneakers. They fall down onto the floor. Pulling a scratchy blanket over my eyes, I let out a deep sigh. The blanket smells like dust and before I can choke on it, I pull my nose and mouth out and take a huge gulp of air.
"The room service here sucks." I mutter to myself before turning over to sleep.
****
"Rachel."
"...."
"Rachel!"
"....."
"RACHEL!!!"
"Er..." I mumble. "Juliette, shut the hell up."
I know we had our first argument but that does not mean she gets to wake me up before my mental alarm tells me to. I need my beauty ... well ... able-to-survive-longer-in-this-asylum sleep. And besides I'm still angry at her. I'm her sister, the least she could is trust me. I love her but that doesn't mean that she can slam the door in my face when I ask her where she hid her journal. But she deserves her privacy, so maybe I am being unreasonable.
"Get over here." She hisses.
"In a minute." I mumble, I am drowning back into the sweet blissful sleep again. Like a pebble sinking in a pond. Slowly. "Or an hour...."
My body jerks with a tug. Someone's pulling the blanket off me.
I sit up, irritated and majorly pissed. I rub my eyes furiously.
"What the hell, Juliette!" I yell. "What the actual—"
I look at the person pulling the blanket.
I scream.
"Ohmigosh!" I yell. "Juliette, you got turned into a MAN!"
A lean guy stands beside my bed, clutching the blanket in his fist.
My blanket.
"Get off." He orders.
His dark blue eyes look bored but tense. His arms are tatted up, half sleeves to his elbows. He's wearing a navy-blue T-shirt and khaki cargo pants tucked into shin-high black boots. How did Juliette get turned to a man and manage a new wardrobe too?
"God!" I'm about to burst into tears. "What happened to you Juliette? Did something—"
"I'm here." I hear a small whispers coming from the corner of the cell.
I snap my neck in the direction, my eyes widen. Juliette is curled up in a ball, her arms around herself. Her face looks blank as she stares at the man, but I can see some fear too. My eyes fly back to the man. If that's Juliette, then who's—
By pure reflex, my hands jerks and grabs the blanket from the guy. It catches him off guard because he doesn't expect me to retaliate.
I tug the blanket towards me.
"Who the hell are you?" I demand. "And what the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Get. Off. My. Bed." He bites out the words, annoyed.
"Your bed?" I echo, confused.
"Get over here, Rachel." Juliette whispers. "We can share my bed."
"Share?" My brows furrow. "Why would we share—Oh."
I finally realize it. He's the cellmate the wardens told us about a few days ago. I thought they were joking. How can you fit three people in this small place? I didn't think it to be possible. But apparently it is. I didn't think it would be a guy, though. I realize he's not old as I thought him to be, initially. He looks a little older than Juliette. Probably eighteen or nineteen.
I sigh and let go of the blanket. The guy grabs it and looks at me, weirdly.
I ignore him and throw my legs off the side of the bed and stand up. The guy is pretty tall, guessing from my five-seven frame. I look at Juliette as I move towards her. I can't help it; I want to cry. They sent a guy.
A guy to live us. Are they trying to kill us? Or worse, him?
He's probably a pervert and will try to take chances with Juliette and he'll die once he touches her. This asylum is worse than a torture chamber.
Or a toilet without a flush, I think grimly.
I see the flicker of similar emotions on Juliette's face. She's scared too. I try to lift the mood by cracking a joke.
"Why does he get my bed?" I whine. "There's nothing wrong with yours."
Juliette doesn't speak. I have never seen her so pale. She's still staring at the guy. I can see the slightest of trembles. This makes my heart lurch painfully and my mind tick. Something is wrong.
"Juliette." I say, my voice a little panicky. "Is something wro—"
I hear screeching, I look around to see that the guy is moving both of the beds. He shoves them both together with one hand. He uses his foot to push the two metal frames to his side of the room and stretches out across the two mattresses, grabbing our pillows to fluff up under his neck.
My jaw falls open.
Did he just shove both of our beds together and made them his own? Leaving us with nothing but the floor. The cold hard floor.
I see Juliette tremble.
My vision goes red.
My feet march towards his–my bed and stand in front of him, arms akimbo. Is he the reason my sister is sad? Did he hurt her or say something harsh to her when I was asleep?
He didn't want to mess with the sleep-deprived me.
He cocks an eyebrow at me.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa." I hold up my hands for dramatic effect and then pause. "Just hold on a second. You, my boy, have some serious issues."
"Rachel—" I hear Juliette's whisper.
I ignore her.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" I grab and yank the blanket away from him. "What kind of person are you? Marching into our cell, marking your territory as if you own the goddamn place. Like what the actual hell? We both have been here far longer than you and if you think we both are just gonna sit by while you –"
The guy sits up immediately and grabs the blanket I'm holding and pulls it towards himself. I try to tug it back.
"I don't need to know how long you've been here." He speaks. "I honestly couldn't care any less than I already do. But you both don't need have any sort of problem with me. I'm not going to hurt anyone of you psychos—"
My arms go limp, and I clench my fists. "What did you just call us?"
"Rachel!" Juliette yells.
It's too late.
I yank the pillow from under him and pull it back and hurl it towards his head.
Jumping on the bed, my fists clench the pillow as I hit him with it, furiously.
He stumbles back, surprised by my agility and tries to dodge my pillow-attacks. He didn't expect me to be this fast.
I'll show him fast. Who does he think he is?
"I." Whack. "Am." Whack. "Not." Whack. "A." Whack. "Psych—Ahhhhhhh."
I don't know how he moves so fast. One moment I'm pulling back the pillow for the final whack on his head and the next I'm pinned on the bed, my chest crushed under me and my arms behind my back. I don't know what he's doing, my body is immobile. I can't even lift a single finger in retribution.
He must be some trained assassin.
"What the hell?!" He yells behind me.
I see Juliette stand up and skid towards us. She stops a few steps away, hesitating.
"What are you waiting for? An invitation?" I yell at her, my breath shallow. "Get a pillow and take him DOWN!"
She shakes her head. "I can't touch..." She trails off, looking at her hands.
"Oh, great." I mutter, sink my face into the mattress. Her lethal skin.
God, I wish her gift could've been strength or something. I try to squirm away from under the guy's grip.
"Let go of me you big, ugly baboon!" I yell at the guy.
"Please." I hear Juliette's pleading voice. "Can you let her go?"
"How do I know she won't attack me like that again?" I can hear the undertone of sarcasm in his voice.
He's speaking more gently to Juliette. Is he using his charm on my sister? I'm going to kill him.
"Forget pleading!" I yell at Juliette. "Kick this asshat in the—"
"Rachel." She looks at the guy again, her expression somber. "I'll restrain her."
The guy shrugs. "No offense, but I don't think you'll be able to do that."
I hiss. "You will definitely be able think and see what I'll do with you, once you let go of me. You pathetic, son of a—"
"Rachel." Juliette says, her voice pleading yet a little hard. "You're only making it worse.
"Worse? How can this get any worse?" I try to crane my neck to look at the guy. "Once you let go of me, I'll cut off your—"
"Rachel." Juliette hisses, to the boy she adds. "She concedes."
"I so do not CONCEDE!" I yell.
Juliette glares at me. "She does." And looks at him again. "And she promises not to hurt you."
"I never said—"
"Rachel." She hisses.
"Okay, fine." I mumble into the mattress. "Whatever."
The guy lets go after a few seconds.
I immediately want to punch him in the face but seeing Juliette's glare, I stop. She can be scary when she wants to. I get off the bed and immediately, without wanting, start to pull one of the beds towards the other wall.
I don't warn the guy because I want him to kiss the ground.
He does just that, almost falling onto the floor.
Sadly, to my disappointment, he catches himself at the last moment.
He huffs and sits up again, his blue eyes throw cold knives at me. I hope my brown eyes are throwing hot daggers at him.
"Oops." I fake a smile at him, trying not to giggle. "I forgot to warn you that I'd be dragging the bed to other side."
Juliette glares at me and gives me a pointed look.
"What?" I shrug, innocently.
She shakes her head and motions me to come sit with her on the bed. I do as I'm told. I set my back against the wall and bring my knees to my chest, glaring at the guy.
He just faux-smiles at me. The mutual annoyance in the room is palpable.
I realize something, Juliette and I have no blanket or pillow.
"Hey, Goldilocks!" I wave at the guy. "We want one of those pillows and blankets."
He rolls the blanket around the pillow and throws it towards me. More like at my head, to be honest. I let out a little oof as the ball-shaped lump hits me on my face.
My head hits the wall, pain strings up my skull.
What an absolute di--
I grab it and am about to throw it back when Juliette gives me a cold glare. I reluctantly stop.
The guy gives me a smirk. My blood boils.
"Oops." He grins, his voice squeaky like a girl's. "I forgot to warn you that I have a good throwing arm."
I grit my teeth. "Is that supposed to be a pathetic attempt at mimicking me?"
"What gave me away?" He asks. "The annoying, hoarse and pitched voice?"
"I do not have a hoarse voice." I bristle.
I look at Juliette, she's sitting the same way I am. Her forehead against her knees, her eyes closed. I can see a ghost of a smile there.
Now, I want to hit her with a pillow.
Is she laughing at me? With him? I'm her sister, for crying out loud. You pick your sister's side over some random guy's. I snake my hand to her upper arm and pinch her. She yelps and glares at me. I look over to see the guy staring at my hand and then Juliette's upper arm. He looks at my face, expecting something.
"What?" I snap.
"Nothing." He shrugs.
I notice the way his blue eyes keep darting between us.
"So," he says, stretching his legs. The bed is obviously too small for him. "I guess you both aren't insane." His eyes dart to mine. "Mostly."
"Neither are you." I pause dramatically. "Mostly."
His eyes crinkle in amusement, though he doesn't smile. He looks at Juliette again. She's looking at her hands, avoiding eye contact with him. I furrow my brows.
"I'm Adam." He offers his name as if it is some peace sign.
I'm not done hating him, yet. I feel Juliette stiffen when she hears his name.
"I'm Milanda Hugginkiss." I point to myself. And then to Juliette. "And this is my sister Radeo Hugginkiss. We're from the south." I lie flatly, curling my words.
I look at Juliette, she doesn't smile. Something's wrong here. She doesn't laugh, most of the time, at my jokes but at least smiles at my pathetic attempt. She looks so glum and ... sad. I feel my heart constrict. We both won't be able to talk freely again because of this ... Alien.
"Milanda Hugginkiss? And Radeo? Really?" Adam smirks. "That's a pathetic attempt at a fake name. Especially since you added hug and kiss to the surname."
I feel anger spark my blood.
"Well, you can kiss my—"
Juliette elbows me. At least something got a reaction out of her.
"OW! That hurt. Why did you—" She elbows me again, I glare at her. "OW." I rub my sore rib. "OKAY! Okay, I'll shut up. I got your point and your message. Sheesh, woman."
"I know your names." says Adam.
"Stalker, much?" I raise my brows.
He shrugs. "You both were practically shouting them when I came here."
Yeah, when Juliette was trying to wake me, she called me by my name and when I thought Adam was Juliette, I called him by her name. I shudder thinking about Adam being my sister.
Not a pretty picture.
"So, why are you here?" He looks at us. "Both of you."
"Juliette's innocent, she had nothing to do with anything." I speak. "Well, as for me ... I'm here because I strangled my annoying cellmate named Adam in his slee—OW! Juliette!" I turn to glare at her. "We do NOT have medics here to tend to me if one of my ribs broke."
I hear Adam give a chuckle as Juliette shrugs at me. I think her eyes brighten at his chuckle. I feel a muscle twitch in my brain. Does she know him from somewhere? But she never went out of the house and all of the kids at school hated her and wouldn't get within a ten miles radius of her.
I wince at the thought. That sounds harsh. Come to think of it he does look familiar to me too. I'm dreading that I'll find out soon enough.
"So why are you here?" I ask Adam, curiously.
"I'm not insane." He says, not really answering the question.
"That's what we all say." I nearly yelp at the sound of Juliette's voice.
Adam gives a small smile. "She talks?"
Juliette shrugs.
"I thought for a second that they locked me up with a psycho today." He says, a smile tugging his lips. His eyes glued to Juliette.
"Funny." says Juliette. "So did I."
A few seconds pass before Adam grins. I laugh so hard that I nearly fall off the bed. I'm so proud of her.
***
I hope you guys liked this chapter. If you see any fault or mistakes do mention them.
Love,
H. R. S
P. S: Thanks for reading!