To Whom it May Concern ❧ A Tale from Briarcliff

.01

"You're staring."

His mother had always taught him it was rude to stare. It made people uncomfortable, knowing they were being scrutinized so intensely. Kit Walker did not fancy himself a rude man. He'd been brought up to say "please" and "thank you", shake hands with a firm grip, and all that jazz. So when Grace brought it to his attention that his gaze had been lingering for a few seconds too many on the honey-skinned girl thumbing through a book in the corner, he immediately moved to rectify the situation.

Grace, the spunky redhead who had seemingly taken him under her wing upon his arrival, had her chin propped up in the palm of her hand and her bottom lip positioned between her two rows of teeth. She looked positively devious. He figured he'd better get used to it sooner rather than later. "Who is she?"

"Who, Mackie?" Almost the same instant the name left her mouth, the girl's eyes sparked with something like intrigued excitement. Her arm dropped down onto the tabletop with her other one to support her slight form as she leaned herself forward to whisper - almost comically secretive - everything she knew. "No one knows for sure, really. I don't think anyone even really knows when she first got here - she just kind of...happened."

"Happened?" Now, under normal circumstances Kit wouldn't let himself be sucked into petty gossip. He was a sweet boy, and his childlike innocence very nearly crossed the line into downright naivety. But these were hardly normal circumstances, and he needed all the information he could get to fit into a place like this. Or maybe that was just an excuse to get to know more about the pretty little thing all by her lonesome. Enough to strike up a conversation. "You're confusin' me."

"It's just that she's so quiet, y'know. Everyone here has at least one friend - someone they get close to so they don't go even more psycho. But every day she does the same thing - sits there and reads her books, hardly even moving until the common area closes. We gave up trying to get her attention a long time ago." Grace's eyes were almost fixated on the girl as she spoke, a tiny grin poking upward on her pale features. "It's like one day she just ghosted her way inside and made herself at home, like she had always been here and we just hadn't noticed."

"Spooky." Kit's tone was half-sarcasm and half-interest. He wanted to know more, but it seemed that the only way to learn was from the source. "And no one knows what she did to get herself locked away in the nuthouse?"

Grace shook her head with wide eyes trained directly on him. "She looks so small and delicate, doesn't she? They say it's the silent ones you have to look out for. Some rumors say she butchered her entire family in one night and strung them up by meat hooks, but that's a little out there. Most people just make up their own stories about her, because they don't know the truth. She's like their own little story book."

"Has anyone ever tried findin' out?" He asked, and Grace could only breathe a laugh at his wide, boyish doe-eyes.

"You kidding? No one talks to her." She emphasized each word as if it was just another rule set in place by Sister Jude. Unspoken law. "I hear she bit someone's ear off and spent a week in solitary just because the guy sat beside her."

Kit's stomach did a flip before logic took over. He had always been quick to give someone the benefit of a doubt. "Did you see it happen?"

Grace paused for a few seconds, like she'd never thought of it that way, before replying. "No...but-"

"Have you even seen a guy walkin' around with a chunk of his head missin'?"

She seemed to deflate even further. "Not exactly..."

Kit shrugged, as if he had made his point clear. "Then who's to say?"

"Ok then, Einstein," A giggle colored the French girl's tone as she reached over the chess table to lightly shove her friend's shoulder, "Go and make a new friend. Don't come crying to me when you're deaf in one ear for the rest of your life."