Burlap

2 - For Whom The Bell Tolls

A/N:

I've posted a picture of what I imagine John looks like. (Loosely, anyway. It's hard to find pictures of people who ARE that imagined person in your head, you know?) 

So, who do you like so far? Who has strange motives? Who are you suspicious of? Who do you like? Let me know in the comments section, alongside any other feedback you want to give! :)

“So, that’s all you need to know, honey. John keeps everyone in our Ward basically stable and sane, so you can let your guard down a bit with us lot, but be careful around the other wards. A petite little thing like you would be just snapped in half if one of them gotcha,” Esther babbled, brushing the curls out of her long, black hair from her seat at the small desk-turned-makeshift-vanity in the corner of our shared dorm. Her dark eyes shifted to meet mine through the mirror propped up against the wall on top of the painted metal surface. Neat little rows of various lipsticks, rouges, hair sprays, and other assorted cosmetics lined either side of the reflective plate.

It was so painfully normal.

“John keeps everyone stable? Isn’t he a patient, himself?” I asked, knowing she caught the trepidation in my tone when her eyes narrowed after I spoke.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, honey. He’s got his own host of issues. They’re not any prettier than the little scene you gave us back there. But, he has a way with others, like me and you. Those doctors and orderlies might as well put him on the payroll for all the good he does with our ward that they all have nothing to do with. You know Marcie was in solitary for three years for trying to off herself so many times before John got admitted here? The girl hasn’t even shown a hint of violence since. I expect she’ll be released a lot sooner than they originally planned.”

Even I saw my eyes widen in shock in the mirror as Esther went about using a small rag with lotion to remove the thick layer of makeup she wore. As she cleaned away the cosmetics with steady, practiced hands, her true age began to show. Thin wrinkles revealed themselves alongside the dark circles beneath her eyes. Small crows feet crinkled at the corners of her waterline. All expertly hidden behind layer after layer of expensive makeup.

Looking at her reminded me somewhat of a side show. Robbie’s extravagant voice filled my head, crying to the audience, ‘Come see the AMAZING woman with no age! Touch her beautiful skin! Feel her silky youthful hair! No one will be able to believe that she’s a spry FIFTY-FOUR YEARS OLD!’

“You should get some rest. If you pretend to be asleep before the orderlies get to our dorm, they’ll most likely sign off that you got your meds without giving them to you,” she told me, her entire body shifting and softening with a sympathetic warmth in her eyes as she smiled at me, her aged face sad for some reason.

My head cocked to the side in confusion. “Shouldn’t I take my meds? I’m here because I’m crazy and need to be fixed, right?”

I found that the only time I heard any hint of a Mexican accent in her voice was when she laughed, which she did whole heartedly as she swiveled in the rolling chair to face me. “Oh, honey. It’s better to be crazy than to become a mindless drone. With as tiny as you are, sweetheart, you’d be a zombie for days!”

My eyebrows furrowed, not quite following anything she was talking about anymore. When I didn’t join her laughter or even smile in acknowledgment, she paused and gave me a hard, but concerned look, crossing her arms over her ample chest. “You don’t really think they’ll fix you, do you? We’re all just dumped here so we’re not out there with the rest of society, shooting them up like we did before. They don’t want to help us or fix us here. They just want us out of the way. The meds just make you easier for them to deal with and command around. That’s all,” she told me in a hushed, but soothing voice. My small bed sank down as she moved to sit beside me, taking my small pale hands into her larger tanned ones.