Chapter Eleven Aria

Chapter Eleven

Aria

It was not fun spending your day wondering if you’d see tomorrow. If today would be cut off. If your hours were numbered.

Scanning the cafeteria from where I sat next to Jenny, I searched for anything ... familiar.

A hint of the malignant.

An innuendo of ill intent.

My spirit remained calm, feeling no threat.

Whoever had been in my room last night must have left with the 6:00 a.m. shift change.

Counselors stood around the cafeteria, two men and one woman, casually observing us as we ate breakfast.

Again, I pushed the food around on my tray, lost in the subdued mood.

Most ate quietly, boys on one side of the room, girls on the other.

I found myself drawn to those hurting around me, and I kept having to fight the urge to reach out and touch.

To see if it happened again.

To find out if it was a fluke.

A mistake.

If I was really losing the sanity those around me thought I didn’t possess.

A girl sat to my left. Her hair was chopped short and dyed jet black, and her face was drawn, the inside of her left arm crisscrossed with old scars in the shape of x ’s. The scars were covered with fresh wounds in varying stages of healing.

Even though her expression remained flat, her thoughts swirled around me, almost palpable.

Harrowing and haunting.

Riddled with confusion and grief.

The compulsion to touch her was almost as strong as it’d been with Jenny last night. My hands tingled with the impulse, and energy rushed to my fingertips, so intense I could feel it glowing inside.

I gulped and tried to force it down.

Contain it.

Honestly, I didn’t know what to do with it. How to handle this change that I didn’t understand. How to harness the power. How to wield it and how to control it.

Did it really even matter if I was only going to be hunted down anyway?

After breakfast, I went into the tiny bathroom in the room I shared with Jenny. I stripped out of my clothes and peeled the bandage from my back, hissing as I did. It still burned, the lash fiery and inflamed, but it was finally beginning to heal.

I showered, then changed into a pair of jeans and a soft, fluffy black sweater my mother had packed. It felt like another hug. Another embrace. The same as the bear she’d hidden at the bottom of my bag.

I held on to the truth of her care when the anger threatened to surface.

She didn’t understand.

She only cared about me.

Loved me.

Was terrified for me.

It was on me to understand that.

“Are you doing okay in there, Aria?” Jenny called through the door. “I mean, I love a good shower, but you know, I just wanted to check because you’ve been out for a minute. If you need anything, just holler! I’ll be right here ... outside the door ... in our room.”

Amused affection had me biting down on my bottom lip. It seemed I’d found a friend.

“All good,” I called as I opened the door. “Just finished getting ready.”

“Okay, good! I gotta hop in before they come round us up.” She was already peeling her shirt over her head as she stepped inside. “We have recess in, like, five.”

“Recess?”

“Uh, basically, yes. I mean, I’m not sporty, like at all, but it’s way better than being stuck in this building all day. Even if it’s cold as all hell out there, I’ll take it,” she rambled, her voice blurring when she turned on the showerhead and climbed in, though she’d left the door open so I could still make out what she said.

Right. I’d almost forgotten about them taking us outside before.

“And Dylan is going to be out there, so obvi, that’s where I’m going to be,” she said.

“Who’s Dylan?”

“Ugh, the hottest guy here. But he just, like, leans against the wall by himself. He’s clearly nothing but trouble, but oh man, he’s the kind of trouble you want, if you know what I mean.”

She laughed at that. “But it doesn’t matter, because he doesn’t talk to anyone. Like, anyone . I’ve never even heard his voice. Not once. So I just admire the view. And my poor panties, Aria, the view .”

She groaned after she sang it.

Warmth filled my chest.

I’d never really had friends, especially after I hit middle school, when the girls had decided I was weird and I’d realized it was dangerous to let someone inside my truths.

Not that I could ever let Jenny go there, but still ... it felt good to have a companion.

At ten, we were ushered out back through a heavy metal door.

It was definitely a glorified recess.

There was a field of grass, a basketball court, and chairs sitting around plastic tables on a patio.

It was cold, but different from the coldness of Faydor. The air was crisp, and the sky was clear. Bright, wintery rays of sunlight slashed down from the heavens.

I tipped my face to it, relishing the warmth, terrified it might be my last chance.

A handful of patients picked up a ball and began to play a game of basketball, though most hovered around and watched. Some were detached, while others looked for a way to make connections.

A twelve-foot-high chain-link fence enclosed the entire area. On the other side of it and to the left was a parking lot, where I assumed the staff parked, and off to the right in the distance, obscured by a copse of trees, were more buildings that housed the adult facilities.

My stomach sank at the thought of being taken there. Rather than wallow in it, I studied the area, searching for any weaknesses or soft spots.

There was little chance I could make it over the fence before one of the counselors dragged me back down, though I couldn’t help but wonder if it might be worth the try.

I had to fight if there was any chance I would survive.

An hour passed, and we were paraded back inside.

Everything was regimented and controlled.

Scheduled.

Not that I minded order.

I just hated that I was being controlled here.

I hugged my arms across my chest as I followed the rest inside, and the door locked behind us with a buzz.

Yeah, I wasn’t getting through that, either.

Complaints of discontent sprouted from the group when we were led through the main room and into art therapy.

“This is so stupid,” Jenny grumbled from the chair next to me. “I don’t know why they make us do this. It doesn’t help anything.”

I shrugged. “It’s okay, I guess.”

More than okay. I loved it. I loved the feeling of my hand stroking over the blank paper as I scratched the charcoal pencil across it. As it grew and the lines became more defined. As the image took shape and came to life. I just sat back and let it flow.

I wasn’t surprised when pale eyes stared back at me.

As he looked at me with his dark intensity.

The meadow alive around him, so real I could almost smell it.

“ ‘Um, it’s okay, I guess,’ says Little Miss Aria da Vinci over here. Seriously, I’m embarrassed to even show you mine.”

Pouting, Jenny glanced between the stick figures on her paper and my drawing. Mock shame hung her head.

A small chuckle escaped me, and I bit down on my bottom lip.

Her feigned offense only grew as she touched her chest.

“What, you think you’re better than me?” She held up her picture, displaying the drawing that looked like a five-year-old had done it. “This is my best work, Aria. A real classic.”

That time, I laughed. I couldn’t help it.

Blue eyes glimmered as she grinned, and I smiled back, savoring the bond, this unlikely friendship formed in the most unlikely of places.

Smirking, she quirked her brow as she gestured at my drawing. “Bet you wish he was real. Hot damn, baby.”

I glanced back down at the image.

Pax, in our sanctuary. Sitting in the high grasses.

His expression severe.

Fierce.

The same way that he always looked at me.

My chest squeezed.

She really had no idea.

Dr. Perry pulled her glasses from her face, set them on the desk, and sat back in her chair.

“Tell me how your first night was here, Aria.”

Terrifying.

Gut-wrenching.

Devastating.

Beautiful and fulfilling.

Shifting on the pleather love seat where I sat, I tried not to itch beneath her appraisal. The way her eyes flitted over every movement I made.

Cataloging.

Every twitch, every gesture, every blink.

She was watching for a visceral reaction. For anything to indicate I was being disingenuous.

I drew in a deep breath to keep the shaking under control. Convincing her I was no danger to myself was the only way I was going to get out of here.

Truthfully, I’d barely made it through group therapy earlier that day.

I had no idea how to handle the new sense that had taken over me. The ability to hear the vile voices echoing from the minds of anyone who was near. It was disorienting. Crushing. Pulling me between the need to help them and the truth that I also had to protect myself.

I’d nearly been brought to my knees by the shattering pain that had splintered through my being when the female counselor had gone around the circle, asking each of us if we wanted to hurt ourselves or if we wanted to hurt someone else.

Everyone’s emotions amplified.

Most had lied.

Blades of dishonesty. Shards of hopelessness and desperation.

I’d nearly ruined everything when I’d been struck with the overwhelming need to touch each of those girls as the counselor had moved around the circle.

Their pain had been almost too much to ignore, and I hated that I’d had to do it.

It felt like betraying them.

The torment and confusion that infested their thoughts.

Prisoners, when they didn’t have the first clue.

By the time the counselor had made it around to me, I’d barely been able to speak, and I’d somehow managed to force out a shaky “Not today.”

I was trying to play it smart.

They could only monitor us for a short time to ensure we weren’t immediate threats to ourselves or others. To ensure the moment of crisis that had landed each of us here had passed.

If I could just make them believe I was okay now, I might have a fighting chance.

But I didn’t have one locked within these walls.

I cleared my throat when Dr. Perry remained silent, waiting for me to answer.

“Um, it’s been okay. It’s weird not sleeping in my own bed, but I like my roommate.”

She nodded. “Jenny is very kind.”

“She is,” I agreed.

Dr. Perry angled her head, her perusal soft but keen. “And how are you feeling?”

My tongue stroked out to wet my parched lips. “A bit better today,” I whispered, hoping to sound sincere.

“That’s what we always hope ... that you feel a bit better with each day. But really, for that to happen, we need to help you get to the root of this, Aria. To the place that you have trouble allowing others to see, and I hope you’ll trust me with that.”

There was nothing cruel or evil about it.

No ill will emanating from her spirit.

But that didn’t mean allowing her to go there wouldn’t prove catastrophic.

When I didn’t respond, she shifted her attention to the portrait I’d drawn in art therapy that now rested on her desk.

My nerves scattered as she carefully studied it, and I had to fight off the urge to snatch it back and hide it against my chest.

When I’d first entered the room, she’d asked if she could see what I’d done in art class.

Maybe I should have refused. Ripped it into a thousand pieces before she could see. If I’d been smart, I wouldn’t have drawn it in the first place.

But it’d come unbidden, arising from the depths of my mind and flowing from my fingers as I let my spirit wander.

Pax had been there for a moment, the way I wished he could truly be.

In discomfort, I hugged my knees to my chest and rested my chin on top of them.

She tapped the picture, her eyes narrowed in concentration when she leveled me with an intent stare. “Can you tell me about him?”

My mouth was instantly parched.

I searched around in my brain for an adequate lie to give to a woman who was trained on how to sniff them out.

“What do you mean? It’s just a drawing.”

Her brows drew together. Cautious speculation. “He looks a lot like you.”

She glanced between me and the drawing, as if she were categorizing each similarity.

“You have an amazing talent, really,” she said, almost to herself. “It’s a stunning piece of art.”

“Thank you.”

“And we could go on about your natural talent, but I really think we should address this man in the picture.”

She rocked back in her chair, casually, as if to put me at ease.

Futile, since trepidation buzzed through my being.

“Have you always felt self-conscious of the way you look, Aria? Is this perhaps an expression of your need to fit in? To find someone else who might look like you?”

Care filled her tone, and I would have found comfort in it if I didn’t know her laptop sat open to my file. To the records from middle school and earlier, when I’d insisted there was a little boy who looked like me. That there were others with my eyes. Others who were just like me and met in this magical place.

I’d known I wasn’t supposed to share those pieces of myself, but somehow, I’d never been able to stop myself.

“Maybe?” I shrugged, forming it as a question, looking at her with a You tell me . Maybe then I could nod and agree with her perception. Satisfy her concern.

Her head tipped to the side, her eyes narrowed in concentration.

“You’re actually quite beautiful,” she mused, though I could almost hear her rebuking herself for saying something that might be deemed inappropriate.

She cleared her throat and tapped the picture again. “So, Pax is his name?”

Unbidden, a tremor rolled through me. I bit back the panic.

“And this Pax is important to you?” she pressed.

My nerves edged in anxiety, I rushed my hand through my hair. I decided to use it to my advantage. Play the troubled teenager. I chose my words carefully. “Yes. He was always there for me when no one else understood.”

Leather creaked when she shifted in her seat, and her voice grew deep. “What does he think about what you do to yourself, Aria? Does he tell you it’s okay?”

She wanted to know if I heard voices.

If only she really knew the voices that I heard.

“No.” I whispered it, allowing the tears to well up and fall free.

Appropriate for this act.

While inside, I was panicking. My spirit revolting. Telling me to get up and run. To squeeze my eyes closed and pray for sleep.

To go to Tearsith.

To find him.

Because I hated denying him.

Denying how much he really meant to me.

But there was no other way.

“I used to talk to him when I was little.” The faked confession was thin and wispy. “It was just hard to let him go when I realized he wasn’t real.”

Frustration colored her features. “Please don’t play me, Aria. I ask for your respect within these walls, the same as I will give to you. I know very well you still believe he’s real. And I need to know if he’s the reason you harm yourself. If he convinces you this will somehow make you feel better.”

She turned her laptop around to reveal the pictures emblazoned like proof on the screen. Burns in varying degrees of healing captured in each shot.

Some old and faded.

Some puckered and inflamed.

The one they’d taken yesterday when I was admitted was still caked with dried blood.

I did my best not to flinch at the sight of them.

Sympathy might have filled her expression, but her words were enough to snuff out hope. “These are the worst injuries I’ve ever seen anyone inflict on themselves, Aria, and I am not going to let you go until we find a way to help you.”