Home Improvement
10:20
Crystal:
You're going to go inside with me and you're going to be good, or I'm going to tell your school that you ran away from me to skip classes.
Dryce:
Gee, how'd you know I was thinking about running away?
Instead of answering, she got out. I followed suit, only because at this point, it was easier just to go with the flow. Might as well "walk the path" for a while, if only to find out what traps lay in wait. The sky was grey, and my shadow was nowhere in sight.
We walked into Shady Acres, where the other inhabitants and their attendants were taking up space at lightning pace. That is to say, they were sitting completely still. Not two seconds in, Crystal takes out her long, black cigarette pen and starts to inhale... but stops, grabs it with both hands and snaps the device in half.
[CRAKK!!]
Dryce:
Grandma, what the hell?!
Crystal:
Haven't you heard? Smoking cigarettes is five times worse than smoking cigars. All the doctors say so. It causes lung inflammation and slows the development of the brain in kids, bats- uh, rats... and... teens... and provides a medium for ten times the nicotine exposure of cigarettes over a long period of dime. I mean, time.
Dryce:
(Utterly confused.) Are you having a stroke?
Crystal:
Of course it's true! I'm always right! Never question your elders, Dyke!
Dryce:
Is that another insult or did you just forget my name?
Crystal:
Don't talk back to me, lezbo.
Yep, it was an insult. Crystal takes me through the building. It's small, but there are a lot of changes after my last visit. What used to be a lonely TV room is now a fully-fledged library, with comfy armchairs and reading lamps. The board game table is no longer a sad piece of plastic on wires, but solid wood, with matching cushion-stools. Even the stained ceiling tiles have been replaced, and the windows are so clean you could eat off of them. I guess, if you like, slapped your food on the glass and just started licking it as it dripped downwards. Anyway, it was nice.
Crystal:
(Clapping, then whining with agony.) Delaney! I need some help here. Why are you never here when I REALLY need you?!
An attendant sped over from the next room. She had been sitting by the window having a break, and her smoky breath trailed behind her. She must have made old Crystal feel right at home when she first got here – guess I know who to thank for her episodes. Delaney looks haggard – blonde hair and tired eyes, dryer than a bone in the hot Sahara. The veins crawling all over her face are practically purple... just like Crystal's.
Delaney:
Yes, ma'am!
Crystal:
Please see to lunch. Today is grilled cheese and tomato soup, alright dear?
Delaney:
Sure thing, ma'am!
The woman's eyes were glossy but her movements were sharp, and lively. Crystal wasn't draining their bodies or their life force... more like, their independence, and their will to disagree with her. The other old folks, I noticed, have all been fitted with fresh, warm-looking clothes and had their hair shampooed. Crystal wasn't just using her pull with the attendants for herself... she was seeing that everyone was taken care of. I wondered what kind of treatment she must have first endured to need such a sense of control here. Their gaze followed me through the room, each of them looking hungry for attention. No... starved. One of the old ladies tries to hold my hand, but Crystal brushes her off for me.
YOU ARE READING
SR ε: Dry Veins (2021)
ParanormalDryce Romano comes from a poor neighborhood in Fort Mancraig, where everyone's just as messed up from the fumes as they are from their own parents. The only thing that seems to keep his head on straight is good-old baseball, with a boyish girl who's...
