XCV | Something's Not Right
❦
When I open my eyes again,
I’m surrounded
by my portraits of Tammie.
The LED light
above my bed
is a familiar one.
The smell of Tammie
engulfs me entirely.
Why does hell
look like
my bedroom at the asylum?
Tammie giggles.
You idiot.
She rubs her hair
against my shoulder,
crawls
from my bed,
stretching.
I’m alive.
Tammie smiles, apologetic.
I don’t know
how to feel about this.
I watch her
spin around the room,
dancing
to music
I can’t hear.
Does she wish
I was dead?
I can’t tell
from her face.
I don’t want
to ask.
Sitting upright,
I realise
all the casts and bandages
are gone.
My limbs have
dark red scars and
black bruises
but nothing hurts.
They didn’t kill me.
Why?
Moving is a different matter altogether.
I feel
like my own limbs
have been replaced
with someone
else’s.
It takes a while
just to get to the door
without falling over.
By the time
I climb down
the stairs,
I’m tired—I wanna go back upstairs
and get in bed again.
But something makes me
pause.
Walk forward.
Further into the main hall.
Look each patient
in the eye.
The main hall looks the same
as it always did.
No sign
a fire
ever happened.
The only difference
is the study room
has a red door now.
❦
Everyone is gathered
in the main hall
like it’s medicine time.
There are nurses
everywhere
like it’s medicine time.
Queenie is gone.
A new patient has taken her place.
A dude
who’s scratching his
private parts.
His eyes meet mine.
No trace of shame.
‘Who are you?’ I ask.
‘Benny,’ he responds.
Takes out his hand
from his pants,
holds it out
for me to shake.
I move on to the next armchair,
David—who’s lowered his head,
whispering
into his chest.
He ignores me
and my hand
in front of his face.
Pei Xuan laughs as usual
but it becomes
high-pitched,
louder,
when I pass her armchair.
Her shrewd eyes
meet mine.
I look away quickly.
Her nails are sharp.
They dig into the armrests.
The only one
with traces of grey hair,
a Malay man.
One of the newer patients.
What’s his name?
Ibrahim.
He keeps staring at his hands.
He looks up at me,
expectant.
But then his eyes dull
and he looks
down
again—
disappointed.
Two new patients.
I have to ask for their names.
A girl with pretty rebonded hair
(Haryati)
who doesn’t smile
even when she says hello.
A long-haired guy
that I mistake for a girl
(Callum)
who glares at me
even though his voice
is kind.
Who are they replacing?
I sit in a random
armchair,
too tired
to cross the room
to my usual seat.
The cushion covers
of this armchair
have a dark brown liquid stain.
I remember
what I touched
crossing the smoke-filled
main hall
during the fire.
The corpse
on the armchair.
This is that armchair.
Oman.
That means the other patient
who’s not here
also died in the fire.
Wei Xiang.
The zombie dude.
The fire was not part of their plan?
I think about it now
and understand
for the first time.
The nurses in the fire
were not keeping me
from reaching Tammie—
they were trying to save me.
Then in that white room,
they were treating my injuries.
Tammie
wasn’t helping them
kill me.
She doesn’t want me
to die.
This realisation
makes me smile.
The fire
was an accident.
But what about
the corpses in the studio?
❦
