Burlap

16 - Of Masques And Martyrs

It took making a deal with the devil, but after promising her the reigns over my body for one hour in exchange for Power's charismatic gift of persuasion, I managed to convince all of Ward F to meet in Marcie's room at seven in the morning. She surprised me, doing exactly what she said she would without trying to attack my friends or having a psychotic meltdown. Did that mean we were easing into one another? Meshing and compromising until we both lived together in harmony?

I scoffed. Not bloody likely. While I'd gladly admit to having been painfully naive my entire life, experience had taught me over and over that Power did nothing that wouldn't benefit her first and foremost.

Esther, Lottie, and I met in her room before the men arrived, waking Marcie up with gleeful cries of happiness. The poor girl nearly hit the ceiling, shucking her blanket off and sitting up in bed, her eyes huge with shock an fear as she stared, dumbfounded, at our smiling faces.

"What on God's green earth-!"

"Get up!" Esther cut her off, grasping Marcie's hands and hauling her to her feet. "Get dressed in something beautiful! Ward F is having our own little psychotic party, and you're the guest of honor. Up and at 'em, Atom Ant!"

Marcie's jaw hung open as she struggled to find words. I grinned at her, pulling her into a hug before shoving her down into the little plastic chair in front of their desk. Like in our room, Marcie and Lottie had propped a large square mirror up on the desk, transforming it into a makeshift vanity. Marcie glanced up at me, bewilderment written across her face so brightly I was surprised I couldn't see each letter etched into her perfect skin.

"Have you all gone mad?" she whispered, her eyes flicking to and from each of us.

Collectively, we chose to ignore that comment, though with wry smiles plastered on our faces at the irony.

Esther pointed a long, tanned finger with fire engine red polish on the nail at me. "Find her something to wear." I nodded and headed to the far corner of the room, where the girls' armoire, a carbon copy of ours, stood. I flung the doors open and gaped at all the magnificently luxurious clothing nearly bursting from the wardrobe, as Esther instructed Lottie to begin painting Marcie's nails while she did the shaking girl's makeup.

My smile grew wider as the fact that we were actually helping someone in this awful place sank in. Maybe we didn't have medical degrees or syringes filled with drugs strong enough to sedate a fleet of elephants. But we had something better than that. We cared about each other. The cheesiness of the thought formed a slight grimace on my face, but I couldn't call it a lie. The doctors here simply could not manage what we could, and I wasn't sure if I was more comforted or terrified by that.

We had barely finished primping and prodding Marcie into a perfect little porcelain doll in scarlet lipstick and an ivory silk dress when the men entered the room, without so much as a knock. John walked straight to me, a smile full with warmth and pleasure poised on his lips, while Esther gave them an earful for intruding without announcing themselves first. Ed seemed to be the only one who looked the part of the thoroughly scolded schoolboy, which I found hilarious considering he stood a full two feet taller and a breadth wider than the rest of us.

"It wasn't you who asked us here, was it?" John asked, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in amusement. Heat filled my cheeks.

"You could tell?" I replied, chewing my lip sheepishly.

He took my hands in his, chuckling as his eyes reached up at the ceiling. "Somehow, I just couldn't picture you telling me to, 'get my perfect little rear end to Marcie's room at seven-thirty in the morning, and get ready to party like a drunk clown on fire'."

I groaned as the blood in my veins transformed into lava, and dropped my head into my hands. "She's impossible!"

A gentle kiss to my knuckles brought my head back up. "But effective. I'm here, aren't I? Just please tell me she didn't make the same remarks about Ed's and George's posteriors as she did mine. That could make things awkward."

I laughed, my chest aching with the force of it. John's eyes lit up and his grin grew. "I closed myself off from her while she did it, so I have no idea. But, rest assured, she'll be reprimanded if she did."

At the word 'reprimand' his light countenance faded. His eyes turned serious as he bore their intensity right through me. "Actually, I do need to talk to you about something. Why did you run off yesterday? George told you to stay there, together. If one of the orderlies or nurses had been told to intercept you by Shilling, it would have ended badly for you, Kate."

I frowned, my eyebrows furrowed at his authoritative tone. As far as I knew, my participation in the "John knows what's best" club had been optional, not mandatory.

"I can take care of myself, you know. I have for almost a quarter of a century now," I told him, forcing myself not to speak snappily. More flies with honey than vinegar, I told myself. Something inside me, connected to Power but not directly from her, swelled with pride at my attempt to stand up for myself. Power arched an eyebrow at my words, clearly impressed, and something about knowing she was proud of me for something pleased me.

"He nearly had you in a psychotic episode in his office. What would you have done if Ed hadn't interfered?"

Killed him, Power supplied, her tone simple and curt in my head. The implication echoed off the walls of my skull, making me swallow the nervous ball of emotion in my throat.

I decided on a much more watered down version of her blunt truth, choosing to repeat what I'd told Esther the day before. "John, I'm a mass murderer. My body does things no other can. He couldn't have hurt me before I hurt him."

His shoulders flinched as I spoke the harsh words and his hands tightened around mine. "Kate, I-"

"Everything's fine, alright? I appreciate your concern. It's more than anyone else has ever given my way. But, I'm not helpless or weak." The words were whispered from my lips, and for the first time, I was the one placing a comforting kiss to his cheek. Red splotches worked their way up his neck, but he schooled his features to remain hard.

"You're changing, Kate," he replied lowly, so only I could hear. "I don't know what's happening, but you're becoming more like her. More confident, less scared. I just hope it's a good thing."



***



"How did you manage this?" Marcie asked in a breathy voice. The whites of her eyes became visible all the way around her irises as she took in the modest cake Esther had sneaked into the ward lounge. It was nothing large or elaborately decorated, but the box cake she and Lottie had crept into the asylum kitchen to bake the night before was far better quality than the usual gruel we were given on a daily basis. And because none of us had tasted the sweetness of sugar on our tongues aside from the chocolates Marcie brought home with her from her trips with her mother, the spongy cake tasted like all the pleasure of the world combined.

Esther scoffed, tossing her curled hair over her shoulder, as if the idea that she'd have difficulty doing anything whatsoever was preposterous. "I'm Esther Martinez," she replied, raising one perfect, sculpted eyebrow as a self-satisfied smirk made itself known on her ruby lips.

Lottie burst into giggles, burying her face into the smiling George's cotton shirt. He wrapped his arm around her twitching shoulder, her giddiness rubbing off on him. He shot me an arrogant but pleased look, and once again, a confusing, backward sense of pride that someone was pleased with me bubbled up in my stomach.

Marcie turned her face up to all of us spread in a semi circle around her to block her from the sight of any wandering staff. I was already on Shilling's bad side. A nosy nurse reporting a mysteriously appearing cake from my ward would only serve to draw more unpleasant attention my way.

Tears gathered over her eyes, spilling onto her cheeks to drip off her jawline and splash on the cold tiles at her feet.

"Why?" she croaked, turning to look at each of us, as if we'd laugh and tell her it was all a joke and she had to return the cake to go mope in her bed once more.

I tried to take an inconspicuous step back to keep an eye on the door, but two gargantuan hands on my shoulders pressed me forward. I stumbled, glancing back to see an apologetic expression on Ed's face. Was it truly a surprise that he didn't know his own strength?

"It was Kate's idea," he mumbled, hiding behind his thick mop of inky black hair. "She said you needed us."

Expectations of her running from the room sobbing, thinking they only cared because I asked them to, filled my mind and I braced myself to go after her. Instead, my body jolted ramrod stiff in surprise when she shoved the cake into John's hands and tackled me to the floor in the tightest hug I'd ever experienced.

"Thank you!" she cried, her tears staining the expensive dress she had bought me so many months before. My hands gripped at the hem, struggling to keep myself covered and decent from my sprawled out position on the floor.

"You don't have to thank me. We want you to know we care for you," I wheezed, clawing at her shockingly strong grip around my neck. Power crouched behind the stone wall, doubled over from the intensity of the hysterical cackles wracking her body. Whether it was due to my embarrassing position in a dress on the floor in front of everyone, or my flustered emotions that kept me perpetually unsure of how to deal with situations where someone thanked me, I didn't know. Whatever the case, she spared none of my pride as she rolled around on the dusty ground, holding her stomach as tears of mirth ran in a constant stream down her cheeks.

Thankfully, John saw my stressed condition and hauled Marcie's body from mine, chuckling as he placed the cake back in her hands. "Give her some room to breathe, Marce," he teased, tweaking her nose before extending his hand to me. I placed my fingers through his and let him pull me to my feet again, tugging at the hem of my dress and patting around my legs to make sure everything was modestly covered.

Oh, please. You wore skin tight leotards that left no room for mystery whatsoever in front of thousands of people over the years. And not even two days ago you wore one in front of John. Stop acting like it would even matter, you prude.

My cheeks flushed with liquid fire at Power's snippy chastisement, but I held firm. Performances felt worlds away from the pathetic little social gathering I found myself in. How could she possibly compare the two? In the three rings, I was no longer Katherine Thornton. I transformed into Kate the Great, filled with confidence and stage presence that could charm an entire fleet of Russian soldiers if I so chose. No one dared look at me in an inappropriate fashion, despite the second skin quality of the spandex leotards. You don't look at birds in flight and wonder what they look like plucked. You simply admire the way their wings flap to help them defy gravity, letting them do what you only wish your body would allow.

"You alright?" John asked, snapping me out of my rather poetic inner speech.

I offered him a smile, weaving my fingers through his and resting my head on his shoulder as we moved to sit on the scratchy, dilapidated couch. "I'm great. Just glad we pulled this off. Hopefully none of the staff feel the need to seek any of us out and catch us," I murmured so only he would hear. We hadn't gone through all the trouble of organizing this mini party for Marcie just to have it ruined by a wayward nurse or orderly on a mission from Shilling.

He squeezed my hand, reassuring me best he could. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure everything will be fine. Relax and enjoy yourself. George, Ed, and I will keep watch."

And relax, I did. For the next several hours, miracle of miracles, not a single nurse, orderly, or doctor walked through Ward F's lounge. Even when all of us missed breakfast, feasting on the contraband cake in place of the flavorless, soggy oatmeal, they left us to ourselves. I would have found it suspicious and been nervous had I not been having so much fun. Ed's deck of cards gained their own popularity, being used to play Old Maid, Speed, and even Texas Hold'em. Through the poker games, we came to discover George possessed a phenomenal blank face, and Marcie couldn't school her expressions to save her life. George won all but two hands, and because we only had our last pieces of cake to bet with, he ended up with a small mountain of the crudely cut slices.

Marcie hopped up from her chair after losing the white chocolate truffle she'd laid down for bets when she lost her last piece of cake to the master of the poker face. "You have to have cards hidden up your sleeve, you cheat! But, I'll let you have it because I'm an exceptionally kind woman!"

The room roared with laughter at her outburst, and soon after she fell into her own fit of giggles as George smirked at her, amusement gleaming in his eyes and arms crossed over his chest. The scene was perfect, really. For a while, I forgot about the fact that we were all in an asylum, fighting to stay under the radar so we don't get sent to the looming thirteenth floor. I forgot about halfwit escape plans to appease Robbie. I even forgot about the extra attention Shilling bestowed on me the day before. For those few hours, the seven of us were simply a group of good friends, getting together to laugh, listen to the radio, and play cards.

I stood, arching my back as I stretched my pent up muscles. My shoulder popped loudly, earning me a wince from Lottie.

"I'll be back," I told the room at large when everyone gave me strange looks for disturbing the happy ambiance with my sudden movements.

"You're not leaving, are you?" Lottie whined, shooting big, puppy dog eyes at me alongside a pouted lip. The poor girl seemed even thinner than normal lately, and while I hadn't told any of my ward mates, I'd heard the nurses talking about her fainting more often than usual. If only she would just eat...

"Of course not," I assured her, ruffling her short hair as I walked by. "Just the ladies' room."

My hand rested on the handle of the thick wooden door when I heard a cacophony of different feminine voice shouting different versions of, "I'm coming too! Wait up!"

I turned, completely bewildered. "All of you have to go to the ladies room as well?"

The three women, who I was beginning to fear their scary ability to seem so in sync with one another, all shot me varying expressions that all but shouted, "don't be stupid". Except, I had to be stupid, because I couldn't think of a hidden reason for all of them to accompany me to the bathroom, of all places. Was this some ritual I'd never been introduced to?

"Oh, Kate," Esther sighed, rolling her eyes in exaggerated exasperation. "You have so much to learn."

My brow furrowed in pure confusion, but I let the trio drag me down the hallways into the womens restroom, regardless. Behind the wall, Power let out a single haughty laugh at my apparent naivety, crossing her arms and looking up to the ceiling. How did I get stuck with someone so clueless and useless?

Had I not seen her point, I would have argued. But, seeing how I had no idea what had just happened or why I was being looked at like I had three heads, I pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth and let the insult slide.

Lottie closed the door with a gentle hand as soon as the four of us were safely inside and standing in front of the mirrors. I turned, leaning back against the porcelain sink and looked each of them in the eye. "What am I missing? Why did I need a posse to go to the bathroom?" I demanded, figuring the blunt question would yield a higher chance of being answered.

I didn't miss the way Lottie placed her skeletal hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. My gaze narrowed on her, causing Power to laugh again, inside my head.

"You never had any girlfriends in the circus, did you?" Marcie asked, her smile soft, but still twitching at the corners with amusement at my expense.

"I never had friends, period."

That seemed to turn the trio's sloppy grins into guilty grimaces. Marcie looked at the ground to her left, fidgeting with the hem of her skirt. "Sorry," she muttered.

I waved her apology away. As long as they weren't laughing at me I didn't care how much they patronized me. Mocking laughter, though, brought out the still unearthed memories of being beaten at Jensen and Sons, and those were memories I had no intentions of freeing from their confines at the back of my mind, where not even Power would venture.

"What's going on?" I prodded, patience wearing thin.

The fluorescent light above us flickered, flashing back to life with a disconcerting buzzing noise. Esther turned her face toward the mercurial light, frowning.

"It's like a thing, you know? Girls just go places together," Lottie answered me, finally. Her floral print a-line dress twirled around her legs like a trumpet as she swished her knees back and forth, giggling like a child at the pretty movement of the fabric.

My mouth turned down in disgust and I looked to Esther and Marcie for confirmation. "Even to the bathroom? Isn't that... I don't know. Isn't that just gross?"

Esther swiveled her gaze back at me, her frown transforming into yet another amused smirk. Marcie hopped up on the edge of the sink, swinging her legs beneath her as she held back the mirth in her expression.

"You're silly, Kate. We don't really go to the bathroom. We just come to the bathroom together to talk away from the boys," she explained, chuckles making her voice shake.

"But, to the bathroom?"

"Yes, child! Women have been doing this for ages!" Esther cried, smacking the back of my head with her palm. I winced, shooting her a dirty look as I rubbed the spot she hit.

"It's gross," I insisted, hoping the three women would get the hint and leave me alone. Either it flew over their heads or they saw it and chose to ignore it.

Marcie twisted around to examine her makeup in the mirror, pulling and prodding at her eyebrows and cheekbones. "So, I heard you got in trouble with Shilling."

The groan that I let out was impossible to hold back.

"I had a meeting with him the other day. When you and John left. Shilling called me into his office to discuss something with me," she continued, watching Esther, Lottie, and I through the mirror. Her lip quivered and she sniffed, focusing on freshening her makeup again. "He said I was doing so well lately, and it was time I knew the truth."

Esther tensed up beside me, her hands curling into tight fists at her side. Something told me she knew what Marcie was going to say already, and it wasn't good.

Marcie produced a golden tube of lipstick from her dress pocket. She snapped off the cap and twisted the bottom until the pale pink wax emerged from the top. It slid gracefully on her lips, painting the chapped surface a moist, salmon color before she replaced the cap and slid the tube back in her pocket. Her lips puckered in the mirror and she used her index finger to swipe at a few smudges of pink on the outside of her lips, removing the excess.

"He told me about Bobby. He's not dead, like everyone else told me. I didn't really kill him. But, he left me, and ran off to a whole other state to get hitched to some frilly little twit. They're expecting their second... offspring," she rambled, struggling at the mention of the couple's child bearing status.

I sucked the air in through my teeth, glancing at Esther for some sort of guidance. The older woman's face was a blank slate, though, and I could plainly see that she intended to tread carefully with this new revelation. Lottie shuffled her feet beside her, looking all over the small restroom except at Marcie.

"I just don't get it. We took vows. Why wouldn't he try to help me instead of running off with some other girl?" she whispered, flicking the tears from her eyes before they could run and leave thick black streaks of mascara down her cheeks.

I doubt their wedding vows included him experiencing a near death experience by his humble, submissive wife either. She can't be serious, Power scoffed, rolling her eyes. She laid, draped over a plush velvet chair, twisting her hands and fingers into intricate shapes, creating crude animal pictures against the lit up stone wall. Could she have made her disinterest in the wellbeing of my friend any more apparent?

"It doesn't matter now," Esther told the crying woman, her eyes hard and authoritative. "You've lived for years in this place thinking him dead. You will continue to do so, because there is no changing what's been done. All you can do is get over it."

The light above us flickered again, coming back on with one less bulb lit. My mouth parted in shock at Esther's hard words, but there could have been no other response the older woman could give. She wasn't one for useless coddling or sugar coating. Marcie had enough pity for herself, and Esther, I knew, would add no more.

"There's more..." Marcie warned, drawing shapes on the mirror with her fingertip. Her eyes flicked to us, then back to her musings again. "Shilling said I'm much better now. He said I can go home soon."

The air in my lungs whooshed out, leaving a burning sensation in my chest. Home? Home? Marcie could get out! She had a chance, unlike the rest of us! I grabbed onto the sink for support as the full weight of her revelation hit me.

Unbridled, raging jealousy rose up in my chest, making my limbs ache with envy at how easily she could be free of this place. She could be normal again. She could live.

She won't, Power muttered, exhaling hard. She's too ingrained here. She doesn't want to leave. Can't you see that?

No.

Mark my words, Sane. She won't leave unless it's kicking and screaming.