XII | Someone Watching
❦
Where did the nurses go?
I walk to the bench
by the rowan trees
where they once
watched over my shoulder.
but I’m
really
the only one here.
I go back
to my room
but the door is locked.
They’re all locked
and I’m really alone.
I search the whole asylum
but there’s only
patients around.
‘Where do the nurses come from?’
I ask Gavin
when I eat lunch.
He jumps at my voice,
almost choking
on his drink.
Hiccup.
His eyes dart around,
looking for the nurses.
When he doesn’t see them,
he leans close.
‘They’re always watching.’
I regret
asking him.
‘Some of your screws
‘are loose,’ I tell him.
He just stares at me
like I’m not
making sense.
I go to the study room
and eat my hamburger
alone.
❦
I don’t see her
until I’m done with my burger.
She sat
so still,
not moving,
that I didn’t
notice at all.
I haven’t talked to her
before
and I don’t talk to her now either.
But when she feels me
staring at her,
she turns around
and fixes her dark chocolate eyes
on me.
‘Hi,’ I say.
She lifts her chin,
glaring down at me.
‘Who are you?’
Her voice is arrogant
and scratchy
(like she’s been screaming).
My first instinct
is to get offended
since I greeted her nicely first.
Then,
I think
it’ll be better to ignore her
but the moment
I stand and
walk away,
she demands,
‘Where are you going?’
So I turn
to give her
a piece of my mind.
She continues
talking.
‘I’m the kaiser,
‘Fatima.’
Her hands shake
even though she’s gripping
the armrests real tight.
‘Bow down and pay your respects.’
Kaiser?
What?
Laughter
bubbles
in my chest.
She’s obviously Malay.
Not remotely European.
She looks so determined,
so serious,
it takes all my self-control
not to crack up.
I clear my throat
and sit back down.
‘Sorry.’
Her eyes bore into mine.
She: Sorry what?
Me: Sorry Fatima.
She: You can’t address me by name.
Me: Sorry Ma’am Kaiser.
Fatima relaxes visibly.
Suddenly,
I get an idea.
‘Ma’am Kaiser,’
I begin to say.
Her eyeballs shift
to look down on me once more.
‘Where are your servants?
‘The ones in white.’
She thinks for a while
then points
at the wall
behind the table.
‘When they are not needed,
‘they become
‘one with the wall.’
I blink
in confusion.
That was not helpful at all.
What does
‘one with the wall’
even mean?
I decide to ask.
She clucks at my tone,
thin fingers
running through
black hair,
and leans back in
(what she obviously thinks is) her throne.
Crosses her legs.
‘They’re not statues
‘for the likes of you to stare at.’
‘Ah,’ I say,
pretending to understand.
Fatima begins
a lecture about her lowest slave
being higher ranked
than the likes of me.
While I return to the greenhouse,
I try to make sense of this.
On my way up,
I examine the smooth walls and ceilings.
No cameras.
No speakers.
But during medicine time,
the other patients and I
hear it
clearly.
Moonlight Sonata
blasting through the stone walls,
calling us to gather.
As I step onto the cold stone path
in the greenhouse,
I am hit
with a familiar foul stench
(and a realisation).
The nurses are always watching.
The first week of hovering
was because you’re new here.
The slight figure
standing in front of the rowan trees
gives me
an apologetic smile.
❦
