The Calling | The House of Voices #1

Twenty Six - Morning

Morning

October:

“Long-sleeved? Are you sure?” I woke up to the sound of Patty’s questioning voice. “Won’t you be warm? Or is there a specific reason you want that particular shirt?”

Blinking at the startling brightness in the room, I sat up and rubbed my eyes sleepily. It was morning already? It felt like I hadn’t been sleeping for more than a few minutes. Through the vent, I heard Parish laugh sarcastically. “Okay, first of all, it’s like a freakin’ igloo in here.” I nodded at that one; the rooms Parish and I had been locked up in didn’t have a functioning heater system, and we’d spent the last night wrapped up tightly in the thing sheets provided for us. At least, I had. “And second of all,” Parish continued, “can’t a guy ask for a shirt without having his motives questioned?”

“In this institute? No, he can’t.” Patty retorted, sounding slightly miffed. “So are you going to tell me why you want this particular shirt or not?”

“Depends.” He said. “What are you going to do if I don’t tell you?”

“I’ll go to Dr. Larkson and tell her you’re withholding information.”

“Withholding information? What is this, Law and Order?” I have to remind myself not to laugh out loud. “You’re no Mariska Hargitay, I’ll tell you that.”

“Mr. Feltman.” Patty’s voice is frustrated; stern. If Parish’s goal had been to annoy her, he succeeded. “If you don’t tell me why you want the shirt, I’ll… I’ll… I’ll bring you something else!”

I didn’t need to see or hear him to know that he was probably rolling his eyes dramatically at her. “Jesus, it’s just a shirt Patty. But if you must know, it’s a shirt my aunt gave me and I just wanted to wear it, okay?”

“Oh no. Your father really should have informed us that your clothes were meaningful too.” Patty complained, mostly to herself than to Parish. “I mean, honestly. There are keepsake boxes for a reason.”

“Calm down.” Parish was probably rolling his eyes again. I just knew it. “The only kind of emotions that shirt is going to stir will be happy ones. There’s no need for you to throw such a fit.” There’s a sheepish ‘oh’ from Patty before Parish says, “Plus, my father can’t warn you about things he doesn’t know about.”

I heard an exasperated huff from Patty before the door slammed shut. I couldn’t help but shake my head at Parish’s antics as I slipped off the hard bed and proceeded to make it. A minute later, as I was tucking in the corners of the sheet in, the door to my own room opened and Patty walked in. Her face showed a faint trace of annoyance, but, to her credit, she tried to look as cheerful as she could for me. “Good morning dear. Did you sleep well.”

“Not really.” I answered, fluffing up the pillow. “The mattress isn’t really that comfortable and it’s kind of cold in here.”

“Oh, so I take it you want a long-sleeved t-shirt too?”

“Too?” I repeated, raising my eyebrow.

“Parish wanted one as well.” She answered dismissively. “Is there anything in particular you’d like me to get for you?” I guessed that since she was already bringing Parish his desired clothes, she figured she’d do the same for me. Nice of her.

“Um, I don’t know.” I ran a hand through my hair, trying to untangle some of the knots. “Maybe the peach shirt with the black stripes…? And my black jeans.”

“Would Miss Hendrix know which ones you’re talking about?” I nodded. “Okay, then. That can be arranged. I’ll be back with your clothes and then escort you to the bathroom for you to take a shower and brush your teeth, okay?”