XXIV | Some Singing
❦
Nothing’s gone wrong,
Tammie sang.
Tammie continues to sing.
Days pass,
a looping playlist
between
Moonlight Sonata
and this blood song Tammie invented.
Nothing’s gone wrong,
Nothing’s gone wrong,
Nothing’s gone wrong.
Every moment we’re together,
she just keeps singing that song.
I ignore her,
trying to shut out
her foul, rancid singing.
tracing
the LED lamp
on the blank ceiling.
I’d tell her to stop
but I’m
too tired
just from walking downstairs
at medicine time.
The song,
sung that first time,
brought comfort.
Now,
sung over a million times,
it makes me scared.
They remind
me now
of the voices
some time ago,
when
I haven’t taken any medicine.
Moonlight Sonata plays from the walls
and Tammie stops singing.
Medicine time again.
Get up, Fifi. It’s medicine time.
I ignore her.
But the nurses
who follow me like shadows
repeat what she says.
Get up, Fiona. It’s medicine time.
The plain nurse
tugs my hand.
I’m pulled upright.
Onto my feet.
Shuffled to the door.
Down the stairs.
Tammie follows me.
Abstract painted eyes
follow me.
The song begins singing playing
over Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata
through the walls
of the asylum:
Blood is shed because of you,
we’ll never get along.
I’ll never ever change for you,
or for the lyrics of our song.
‘Just give me the injection,’
I say
at the bottom of the stairs,
crouching,
head between my knees,
scratching a demon in my throat.
The beginnings of a scream.
‘The song changed!’
My throat is raw.
Water leaks
from the faulty faucet of my eyes.
The pretty nurse
commands
that I stand up
and take the final few steps
into the hall.
(Or maybe she’s ordering
Macdonald’s to eat
since I refuse to uncurl
from this
position.)
Even though
I scream,
I hear the song continue
a tampered version
of Tammie’s song.
Don’t worry Fifi,
Everything’s gone wrong.
My chest is tight.
My feet are asleep.
My unconscious
remembers
how he died.
The injection comes,
followed by hands that grip me harder than necessary
and I’m staring
at the LED light on the blank ceiling
of my room
once again.
❦
There’s
a foul smell.
I open my eyes,
expecting her apologetic smile
hovering over me as usual.
There’s only
the LED light
and the blank ceiling
and the autotune voice
singing
the words of Tammie’s
blood song.
A laugh.
Or maybe
it’s a scream.
It’s hard
to tell the difference
when I feel like blacking out.
I want to close my eyes
but something
hurts.
The single
lonely
LED lamp
on the ceiling of my room
blinks
like a prop in virtual reality.
It spins,
slowly at first,
then faster,
faster!
Then the LED light
starts to multiply,
filling the blank ceiling canvas
like reproducing insects,
ocular-shaped honeycombs
blinding me with white light.
They flicker to the rhythm
of the screams.
BLOOD IS SHED…
YOU BLAME ME?
WE’RE NOT REAL…
IT’S JUST A GAME…
…FIFI…
GO AND DIE!
Turning red.
Laughing.
‘Tammie,’ I say.
My throat is raw
for some reason.
HOW MANY DAYS HAS IT BEEN?
YOU WANT TO SPEND
EVERY DAY LIKE THIS?
I dig my fingers
into my ears,
they just sink into skin.
I don’t want to hear
anything
anymore.
Hands grab mine,
sticky hands.
Gloved hands.
Muffled voices.
Masked nurses.
No Tammie.
The smell of antiseptic
instead of puke.
The screams
fade
into static.
Did I escape again?
Did someone die again?
Have I forgotten
again?
The gloved hands
can’t be shaken off.
They’re around my ankles too,
holding me down.
My voice
is fading
even though
I’m trying
to scream
at the top
of my lungs.
There’s a prick
on my shoulder.
(Or is it my chest?)
(My heart?)
The autotune voice returns,
with more to say
in a whisper.
A different song.
A bridge.
YOU’LL BE HERE FOREVER, CREEP.
YOU’LL BE HERE FOREVER, CREEP.
YOU’LL BE HERE FOREVER, CREEP.
A laugh. A scream.
The smell
of vomit.
❦
