Toys are 2 play

12 The sound of possession

Sebastian's

The day began with delightful news:

"Guess who I've just seen walking back and forth through our halls? Bridgette Clay."

"What?" I chocked. "I thought she never went down here"

"Well I guess she's decided to give us a visit..." Kennedy said, stretching lines on a sheet I had earlier found on the floor. They were lines which formed the contour of a human palm. She had already drawn the face on which the human palm was printed, and he reminded of Curley, the patient who had died a month before of infection on the ribs. "I don't get Bridgette's mind... Speaking of her, have you seen that the weekly candy portion is going to be reduced next semester?"

"I'm sure they will soon cut our daily potato portion. The downstairs are eating too much potatoes, death to the potatoes!"

Kennedy smiled maybe for the first time that day. Then she was taking her purse and shoving the drawing into the garbage. " I need to talk to Alek. See you at dinner."

"Are you going to ask for more candy?!"

But the sound of her steps was already dying at the end of the hall. Bridgette had this incredible ability of disappearing out of sudden. I stared at the box she'd thrown the drawing. Wish we could do this with real Damon Burns: throw in the garbage and never see it again.

🔸🔸🔸

I was coolly walking up Hall 5 to get to the most isolated restroom of the building. Wasn't sure if it the day outside was light or dark, but I knew that my intestine had been blocked for 2 days and my patients were already suffering the consequences of a bad-humored professional. They had nothing to do with my intestine so I decided to take medicine and now was trying something new. The existence of the Hall 5 restroom was known by a few, and the fact that it was old and isolated illuminated my mind - we may say - intestine. So there I was walking, peacefully because nothing would stop me from pooping today!

Knock, knock, knock...

A woman echoed from the next corner. I stopped at once, because 1- That hall was supposed to be always empty and 2- No ordinary women there wore high hills.

"I have told you before, Snow... they are hard headed! Maybe the best way to make them talk is to..."

Her voice faded, but the steps were coming closer. I glued myself to the wall and started making my way out of there. I already knew whose paces those were.

"No", a deep male voice came in now, "I can not accept that. I know they are giving us a hard time but there is nothing we can do to change their mind except waiting."

"Waiting? and letting the war to continue and our food to end? I don't get you, sometimes."

They finally turned the corner and I saw Oliver Snowfields and Bridgette Clay walking composedly side by side. Their hands were almost touching and their aura, gleaming.

"You never get me, Bridgette." Snowfields said. "And despite that you always do what I ask. Is this love or what?" He looked down at her.

"Respect." She looked up at him. "I completely-entirely respect you and your orders, Oliver Snowfields."

She laughed. I couldn't see the reason because my face was already hidden behind the first corner. My palms slid through the wrinkled wall while I paced backwards, slowly so any of them could hear, and I wondered why the god and goddess of Oxygen were doing in the lowest floors of the building - and what that conversation was about. Some key words would be hardheaded and food and respect? My wish was to stop and listen although knowing they would soon see me if I stopped moving. I kept going backwards while they talked... and that's when I got conscious that there was no sound coming from there anymore.

My feet broke, realizing that my lungs had ceased as well. The adjacent hall was in silence. Except for a muffled sound of clothing being smashed and scratched against the wall. The sound of fabric against fabric and skin and the intimate sound of breath. My forehead wrinkled. I heard then a voice, Bridgette's voice, calm and measured as though talking to an infant. "Do it", she whispered. "Now?" Snowfields' quiet exhalation ruffled across the walls.

"Now."

There was a minute from which I could only hear their silence. Then the sound of clothing reappeared with the hum of throats and stroking mouths. They were kissing, and kissing also with their bodies; or at least was what I thought because all I could hear were sounds. They screamed hungriness, not only by the need for food but of disorientation, ambition and loneliness. It was a long time ago when I last watched a movie at which a man and a woman had sexual needs. Nowadays we are only allowed to watch comedies and Paw Patrol. In my routine there are sounds of pain, needles and machines. But the sound of possession, that impressed a bit...

I was actually shaking - and deep there, enraged. The blood tickling beneath the hairs of my arm was the same burning down in my head; instincts were telling me to jump and punch every inch of face I could find, no matter hers or his... No, I wanted him - I wanted him to go to hell and die in the hands of devil, I wanted him to rot and stink like a pork; but also I wanted to take him in my hands and squeeze, squeeze until blood came out through my fists. And after that I would tell the world who Oliver Snowfields really was.

The muffled kissing sounds went on continuously. I put my hands over my ears - yes I did that - so the will of psyching up wouldn't go any longer.

A woman cry laughed on the distance.

She must be adoring it.

Bridgette's golden hairs soothing that fraud's ridiculous beard and his hands finding their way through her slim body made me feel like shouting curses even harder so I held the wall so my body wouldn't move and get me into trouble: I could go over the corner and kill them; that would be so easy... The rough wall I was holding was making small cuts onto my palms and with the pain I saw that I had also squished a bug against it without noticing. "Shit!", I raised my hands to eye level. Then realized the "shit" had been said out loud.

"did you hear that, Oliver?"

The kissing sounds stopped. "... Hear what?"

His boots went backwards fast and unsteadily, meaning that she had pushed him. There were sounds of her bracelets flicking as she smoothed her clothes. There was a pause, then a breath, and a kiss. The last kiss before she said:

"Now put your damn thumb onto that door and let's show those mutineers who's got the rules."

At the next minute the clicking and snapping of a door being opened filed the air.

There was no door on the hall they were at. I was sure of that, I had been wandering those areas for years because of my restroom. Why would Oliver Snowfields have a secret chamber if the whole building was privately his? And only Bridgette Clay knew about it? Or I may say... his lover. I mentally apologized for leaving the dead bug squeezed on the wall. I had now boss issues to investigate and the restroom could wait.