The Pretty Poison

PART 33 - Epilogue

PART 33 – Epilogue

Pine trees flit past one by one until they blur together right by our eyes. In the next moment, they’re gone and far behind the car. I lean our head on the window and press our face into it like the crazy person we are. We have learned not to care what people in the other vehicles might think. We’re judged already on the appearance of our abnormal skin. We might as well show them what they already think us to be. My mom shakes her head in the driver’s seat.

“Stop dirtying up the windows,” she teasingly scolds. “You’re getting gunk all over it.”

We smirk back at her, pushing our head as hard into the glass without moving an inch. Mom flicks at my left hand but we pull it away and rub it over the glass, purposefully making more fingerprints and streaks. When our art piece is finished, a smiley face is drawn to top off the grease my hair left on the window. Small chuckles and giggles echo in my mind.

“Oh, Rachael,” she sighs out. “What am I ever going to do with you?”

“Lock us up again,” our lips reply automatically. My hand covers our mouth as soon as I realize what someone has said. There’s an uncomfortable silence in the car. Mom watches the road trying not to tighten her face more. I can see this is taking its toll already. “They didn’t mean it.”

“I know, sweetie.”

More quiet continues. I mentally scold everyone, not anything harsh but enough to tell them mother means no harm. I can feel them beneath our skin. They boil there, waiting for anything exciting to happen. I can only imagine how they feel, watching life through another person’s eyes. Hell, I’ve been in their position. But we’ve all agreed to function as one. This body isn’t a single person anymore; it’s an ‘us’.

To end the silence, I turn the knob to the radio and find a non-fizzing station. A country song I used to listen to long ago sings sweetly about a young romance. Underneath layers inside I can feel someone’s extreme distaste. The station quickly changed and we settle on classic rock music instead. Most everyone finds it suitable and relaxes with the music. Of course Sherry scoffs at the ‘old man singing’. But since she never likes anything, we keep it on and let our thoughts drift.

It’s really strange, the conversations that happen inside our mind. I almost hear Sherry and Allison, babbling about shopping tomorrow while Masque and Pretty connect happily with each other. Dancer is silent as always but she finds comfort around the other girls and Lucky. Since we’ve learned to suppress the harsher and more violent alters, it’s been a happy family in one person. It’s like we’ve found new friends to bond with. We let out a small sigh at the absurdity. I don’t think we can quite ever explain exactly to Dr. Huntsdale how it feels to be us.

I find our hazel eyes turning again to look out the passenger window. The sun hits our face with its warm rays and we respond with a smile, content with finally being allowed out of the ward. Eleven months feels so long ago since our realization. Even though it’s a weekend trip, I’m looking very much forward to sleeping in my own– in the ‘Rachael’ bed. The many doctors agree it’ll be good for us. It’s a taste of our freedom that is yet to come.

We stare to the trees as Mom changes lanes. Another car is passed with its family hopelessly bored inside. A toddler in the back seat plays with her baby doll, tossing it in the air. Catching it against the window, her gaze finds ours and we beam at her with her cute dark curls. Her brown eyes turn quickly away, hiding below the window and out of sight. She hardly dares to peek back up. Catching our curious face in the side view mirror, we understand why she hides. It’s the monster skin she sees.

Our lips let out another long sigh as we slink back into the seat. No matter what mom says, even though the cosmetic surgery smoothed out our skin, we’ll always look like a freak. Children… they’re innocent. I can’t even blame that little girl. She was most likely brought up to think ugly monsters are evil. The more hideous, the more horrible. I don’t think we’ll ever get used to it.