Ignoring the voice, I take a swig of my vodka before leaning back against the wall with my legs relaxed in front of me. Calvin’s phone plays music, which is in the middle of our circle. No one touches it but instead lets the music play. There’s only five percent left on the phone, which will probably only make it through the next song before dying again. It’s not as if we’re allowed to have charges in our rooms, and we’re hardly allowed to use our phones, but Calvin knows a guy here who fixes shit for us. More specifically, a guard. Apparently, they knew each other before he ended up here, during a time when Calvin was feeling low and was found after a failed suicide attempt.
None of us say anything for a while, just enjoying the relaxing music from our shared playlist on Calvin’s phone. I haven’t gotten my phone back since it was confiscated two weeks ago for breaking the rules. Phones are only for contacting relatives at certain times of the day, but it’s not as if I have any relatives to call during those hours. All of my relatives are dead except for my brother, and he’s somewhere out there hiding away from a crime he committed, and I took the blame for.
“We need more vodka for next week,” Aubrey’s chatty voice breaks the silence, drowning out the music, and Calvin nods in agreement.
We’ve played the song on repeat for many evenings like this one, and the lyrics stuck in my head. No matter how often I hear this song, it fills me with a comforting sense of familiarity.
The singer reflects on the inner monster that lives inside him, but instead of fearing it, he finds a strange peace in its presence. I can feel the beast in my soul, much like I can feel my despair. The three people in the room have no idea how much I truly connect to this song, and I won’t let them be privy to my emotions. They’ve become my friends, but I won’t reveal my past’s deepest, darkest, and most sinister truths to anyone.
Aubrey takes their last swig of the drink before leaning back against Calvin’s tall upper body, snuggling against his hoodie and trapped in his embrace. The two of them make a cute pair, and they deserve each other, especially in a place like this where there are no happy endings. They found each other shortly after we became a trio of friends before Jaqueline joined us.
Aubrey’s dark hair, which is short and reaches to the ear, matches Calvin’s blond hair, which is also short. Today, he has put his hair up in a knot at the nape of his neck, something I know he does to avoid cigarettes’ stink. The smell of cigarettes is inescapable, clinging to our clothes and hair, making it impossible to disguise the fact that we are violating the rules. Jaqueline is the only person who has yet to learn to mask the evidence of smoking, making it easier for the staff to sense something is amiss. Yet she would never betray us. We have a pact, after all.
We will stick together until they take us to the new program, we might as well have a relatively good time before then.
Every patient at the Dankworth Institute transfers to the new program after thirteen months of adapting to their ways. Depending on how you behave there, you can receive a free ticket out of this hell. I have five months left, Calvin and Aubrey have six, and Jaqueline has eight months left. She is the youngest in our group and joined our trio a week after arriving. She never told us why she ended up here, but I’ve heard from staff gossiping in the corridors that she was a danger to herself, but especially to others, because of her psychopathic tendencies. We’ve all been hanging out together ever since she arrived because the best way to survive in a place like this is to stay together. Being alone can endanger your mental health, or so I have heard.
I don’t really give a shit because my emotions are non-existent.
The phone dies just before the singer sings the last line.
“Well, that was that,” Calvin says after a while and retrieves his phone.
Jaqueline puckers up her lips, creating an exaggerated duck-like expression, and I’m tempted to roll my eyes in response. She gets on my fucking nerves, is always touchy, and can never take no for an answer. I regret sleeping with her, but it is the only relief I can receive at a place like this. As if she can read my thoughts and wants to annoy me, she drags her long nails along my bare arm, tracing the tattoo as she puts her other hand on my sweatpants, closer to my crotch.
Jaqueline’s touch is completely unwelcome and not nearly as comfortable as when the mysterious girl traced the tattoos the other day. The sensation of her hands on my skin was like nothing I had ever experienced before, but I didn’t feel anxious or scared. No, it was a welcomed feeling. A shiver ran down my spine when she laid her hand on my arm, and I cannot help but wonder why my body reacted differently to her touch when I’ve never liked anyone touching me. It’s as if she was a siren calling to me, dragging out my inner demons and taking them as her own, loving them and accepting them in a way no one ever had before. The thought of the mysterious–very fucking gorgeous–girl makes my dick hard, and I force myself to swallow the saliva in my mouth. Seeing my boner through the sweatpants, Jaqueline smirks.
“Touch me again, and I will fucking break your fingers,” I utter with a calmness I didn’t even know I could muster.
I’m tired of her bullshit.
She seems visibly hurt as she backs away, and I relax the moment her hand leaves me.
“You haven’t fucked me for weeks!” she whines, her voice too bright and squeaky for my ears.
The moment my brain registers Jaqueline standing before me and not that girl, my boner disappears. I say nothing to her, but she stands up either way and clasps my hand with her tiny ones, her nails pressing sharply against my flesh as if she’s trying to draw out a response. I feel Calvin and Aubrey’s burning gazes on us, but I know the only person here who is embarrassing herself is Jaqueline. I do not give a flying fuck about their opinion of me.
“Is it because of that bitch?” she spits out.
In the depths of my mind, rage pierces through me as if it’s a wave rising to a crashing crescendo as I glare at her with scorn. It has been difficult to control my emotions because the rage has been overwhelming for quite some time, and all I want to do is tear the rotting soul from her before tossing it into the ocean of nothingness. The insult she threw at the mysterious girl has me wanting to do very unethical things to Jaqueline, and I’m not even sure why I care in the first place.
“The fuck, Jaqueline?” I shake her hand off my wrist and step back, staring at her with flaring eyes.
I am at least a head taller than her, which means I know she also feels small compared to me. She should be terrified of me, should tremble in fear because I’m the one person capable of destroying her pathetic life with the touch of a finger. I’m so sick of her games, trying to play with me and use me however she wishes.
I watch her arms hang loosely at her sides while looking at me through thick and black eyelashes. It’s a wonder they even allow makeup here. Her lips are pressed together in a tight line, her eyes glinting with child-like eagerness; it’s like she’s been refused a sugary snack, which only irritates me further.
I decide to put on one of the many masks I wear, one full of fakeness and empathy, so unlike the true me. My eyes soften as I give Jaqueline the closest thing to compassion I can accomplish before I reply to her previous question about the mysterious girl. This day has been long, and all I want right now is to be left alone in my own room and not be disturbed by these three people. The only way to get peace is to be kind to Jaqueline and tell her what she wants to hear because otherwise, I know who will be standing outside my room at three in the morning, screaming like a lunatic until the guards drag her away.
“No, it’s not,” I state my reply with as much lightness as I can muster.
Yes, it is.
Perhaps it is.
Fuck, I’m in so much trouble with myself.
“But it is!”
