THE 33 KEYS: Key 2 - ANSWER THE CALL "Listen for that Perfect Beat"

CHAPTER 20: ANSWER THE KNOCK

The Third Trial is going just as hoped. Yes, that Daniel Sotina most definitely deserves my respect and admiration. In his introduction, he rehashed what really happened that night then showed a mysterious stranger approach Sanya with nudes the morning after. I'm somewhere between his announcement of blackmail and the things she has to do to keep him quiet. And to think that bitch sat there looking so hateful during the trial.

No wonder she was that disturbed at the end. But at least now we know that she'd tried to pin her night of pleasure – and the unspeakable hell that followed – on an innocent man, only to be caught red-handed in the end. Just thinking of her vileness makes me wish Daniel dishes out more pain. So he'd better heat things up by the next three chapters or else. Damn! Thank goodness I'm not a writer or my books would be banned for outrageous content.

A soft knock sounds off at the door. I know for sure it's not Matron Caine. Our dance is not until the next eighteen days or so. Christ! I really don't want to see anyone today.

I throw the covers off grudgingly.

"Who is it?"

"It's Debbie," she mutters, "from the ground floor."

Debbie from the ground floor? What the hell! I don't remember any Debbie living there. Must be someone new, I reason. And she chose my door to knock on? This had better be good news. I jump off the bed and yank the door open. A very frail girl, with bright yellow eyes and smooth dark grey skin, stares back at me. Suddenly, I find myself desperately wanting to ruffle her skin so it can match the sickness in her eyes.

"Do you have time to spare?"

I'm tempted to lie just in case she wants to come in, or worse, wants money.

"Er, yes," I stumble into a response I know I'll regret. "What do you want?"

"I'm not feeling well."

"You look bad too," I blurt out. "Did you check the office?"

"No one's there," she explains. "It's after one."

After one? I've been reading that long? Damn you, Daniel Sotina.

"Well, I'm not a nurse." I knot my brows. "Don't really know how I can help you."

"You can take me to the hospital."

"That's just next door, though. Find it yourself."

I hear how bad it sounds after I say it. But I'm still in my vengeful mood. Thanks Daniel.

"But what if I collapse on the way? No one will know who I am or where I'm from."

"Okay." I stifle my sigh just a little bit. "Meet me downstairs."

I close the door again and let my sigh live. Then I remember that there's no wifi at the hospital. Dammit! Am I supposed to just sit there dry and wait with her? Too bad I finished that horrible library book yesterday. That reminds me. I've got to return it on time or risk not being hired because of delinquency.

Then I run into a new problem of what to wear. To save on detergent, I've been reusing clothes at least twice before dumping them into the basket. All I have left is the black outfit from the failed beach trip two days ago and I'm not really feeling it. So after a few minutes of spinning around, I throw on something dirty and head downstairs.

If humanly possible, Debbie from the ground floor looks even worse than before. I avoid asking how she feels and quietly follow her out the gate. It takes us another ten minutes just to enter the hospital then an additional twenty to register at the front desk. Now it's our turn to blend in with the horde of sick people.

We move towards the corner labelled EMERGENCY and take up the only two seats left. With nothing else to do, I use the opportunity to read each patient like a series. Their eyes range from light to bright yellow, indicating the extent of their situation, their rough-skinned bodies soggy with utter despair. For goodness sake! How did I find myself smack dab in the middle of characters that not even Daniel Sotina might be able to save?

Dammit! Their collective gloominess brings on my period pains hours earlier than expected. So now I get to sit here and pretend that no one's ramming a knife into every inch of my body. Not to mention the fact that my eyes have already started to blur. Before bedtime, these yellows and greys will become the midnight of temporary blindness. Another reason Ebony hated me. I even experience my period differently than other women. But at least the symptoms will pass by tomorrow. That's more than I can say for my disgusting skin.

Just imagine! I spend most of my time cramming my face with costly makeup to hide the roughness, or interchanging denim clothes to avoid people getting hurt if they run into me. And here they are wearing theirs openly. No wonder they're all lumped together in that corner of shame. Serves them right to be dying, all of them. And anyone who puts others at risk like this deserves the worst possible death.

Yet that doesn't change the fact that we're all the same beneath the masks; all except Debbie, of course. I force myself to look at her beautiful skin again. She'll get better. She must! But me; it seems like I'm destined to end up in this hospital without ever getting smooth. Suddenly, that thought chases me down a dark hallway like an angry ghost. And now I am on the verge of tears again. Just great, Mary! You answered the knock. You unlocked the door to your distressing emotions. And now you can't ever turn back the hands of time.