The Lunatics 2: Push Tumble & Fall

Saturday 1:30 p.m.

The Communique: NOLA's Prime News Paper

Catherine's Armistead, friends, and family will be gathered at Bristol's Memorial to say their final goodbyes and show their support to Catherine's parents in the loss of their one and only daughter. Monday: Burial 12 p.m. Celebration of Life 1-2 p.m.

***

Wrecked Girl/Catherine Armistead had not made it past seven hours at Laurels. Without the Remedy, the Red Heart Rash had spread and embraced her skinny body like red devil wings that swallowed her whole.

The full dose of Delirium had not been strong enough to keep Wrecked Girl safe in the madness I had created for her. The yearning for Remedy had continued, and the agony that accompanied it had been too much for her brain chemistry to bare.

DeaDorian found her body hanging from the exposed wooden beam in the downstairs guest bathroom.

Limp. Lifeless. And in black marker, she'd written on her thighs: "Push, Tumble, and Fall, it's the curse that everyone longs for."

***

We all sat around the kitchen table except for DeaDorian who paced back and forth. Laurels had enough attention on it as it was. We were the place where people, without any formal doctors or psychiatrists on site, just got better. No one questions our method and our Intakes were "voluntary" if you could call what we were doing that at all. But with Wrecked Girl hanging herself on-site, our low-profile status was in jeopardy.

Tuesday was mindless scrolling on her phone.

"Why don't you give your phone a break and come join us in the land of the living," Loxi said to Tuesday, but Tuesday was learning to ignore her.

"You guys cocked this one up, now didn't you?" said DeaDorian.

"What was I supposed to do?" I said louder than I should have. "I did what I thought I was supposed to do. What I always do. I Blissed her."

DeaDorian stopped his walk, pulled up a chair, and sat directly in front of me. I crossed my legs intentionally to keep distance between us. "Don't you get it? She overdosed. Period. There was nothing we could do."

"When did we start giving up on people?" I asked.

"She was already dead. You Blissed her when she was already dying," said DeaDorian. "All you did was bring a corpse into Laurels that had about eight more hours of life in it. Just enough life to let her go and die under our jurisdiction. Have you lost your marbles, Myla?"

"You could've just left her there, Myla," Tuesday said without breaking the stare into her phone.

"Yes, thank you for that Tuesday," DeaDorian said in her direction. "Even new girl knows the rules."

"Rules? Since when are we in the business of letting people die?" I asked. "I thought we were supposed to fix the Broken?"

"The Broken, not the dying," said Tuesday.

"Do you want to explain the difference to me, Tuesday?" I said, "Since you seem to be the expert on the subject of healing people now."

"So. I'm just wondering here so I can plan appropriately," Loxi leaned back in her chair. "How long is Weekday going to play the new girl card?" Loxi made space for me to defend myself.

"Save your funnies, Lox. It wasn't entertaining when I just had to explain to the Armistead's why their daughter hung herself in our guest loo. Thank God they knew her daughter was mad like a bag of ferrets with Remedy, and they are not going to press any charges."

DeaDorian shook his head left to right. His blonde hair moved with him.

Loxi kept pretending the situation was not a big deal mostly because she was trying to keep the heat off me. She tilted her head back and continued to balance herself on the back legs of the chair. Her hands gripped the table, and the black roses tattoos on her arms seemed to move on her skin.

"Does anyone know how long it takes for body decomposition to start?" Tuesday asked. "According to this article, statistics say that it takes approximately three days?"

"No. Your statistics are not quite right," said Loxi pushing back her black frames and taking on a professor-like tone which was meant to aggravate DeaDorian further. "See. The process of decomposition starts immediately after the heart stops beating, although you won't notice the first decomposition smells for a while."

"Is it because the bacteria is taking over the body?" Tuesday asked, but no one answered.

"I don't know what to say," I said to DeaDorian. "What do you want me to tell you?" I asked. "That I'm not human and that I don't make mistakes? I'm sorry, but I can't tell you that."

"You did Bliss her, now didn't you? That's how the story went, now did it?" said DeaDorian.

"I get it," I said.

"Do you?" DeaDorian stared me down. "You're supposed to Bliss the ones that have a chance to come back, Myla. Her body was already dying."

"I know," I said. "You keep telling me that. I've just never been in this situation before. I wish you would cut me some slack."

"What did you want us to do, Dea?" Loxi said bringing down her chair and crossing her arms in front of herself. "Was there another option? Did you want us to let her die and leave the corpse there?"

"Do you have to call it a corpse?" said Tuesday, her fingers moved across her phone like she was doing photo editing.

"Sorry, you're right, that's just insensitive," said Loxi. "I meant cadaver. Or better yet. Ca-daver. Let's capitalize that C. Make it more personal. Like a real pronoun."

Tuesday huffed at Loxi's reply.

DeaDorian rested his elbows on his knees and hung his head low. His hair covered both sides of his face.

Silence showed up and no one said anything else for a while.

"And then you bring me another bloke tonight, and it's the same situation! He won't make it past two am, now will he? We have to identify him and locate his next of kin immediately. He will have to hang himself elsewhere."

"No," Loxi said. "Don't let him go home. He will die for sure."

"Finally, she speaks to say something sensible," said DeaDorian.

"If they have the Red Heart Rash they're already dead." DeaDorian stood toe to toe with Loxi. "All we're doing is providing a venue for them to enact their grand finale."

"Calm down please," Tuesday shifted her eyes upward, and her lashes almost touched the top of her red bangs. "Let's just focus on the solution."

"Solution?" DeaDorian turned to Tuesday. "What do you suggest? That we take more pictures of the dead birdy's body for your #AfterParty photo collection?"

"Tuesday, what is wrong with you? You need to destroy those pictures; this isn't a game. This is real life. These are real people," I said.

"I already did. Cut them into little pieces. Burned them. Flushed the ashes down the toilet. All done."

"You need a new hobby. This #PostParty thing is not working."

"It's #AfterParty." Tuesday corrected him.

"Whatever. It's mad either way. And it's going to get all of us in jail, now isn't it?" He hung his head low for a minute. "We're all going to Catherine Armistead's memorial on Monday. All of us."

"Yes. We'll be there," I said.

Silence pulled a chair, and the air shifted. DeaDorian, not making eye contact. Me, avoiding him.

This was all about something else, and it was becoming apparent.

"Come on, let's get out of here." Loxi disappeared into the hallway and Tuesday soon followed.

***