Grayson's Body

Melody

Chapter 34: Melody

Melody

mel·​o·​dy | \ ˈme-lə-dē \

plural melodies

Definition of melody

1: a sweet or agreeable succession or arrangement of sounds

2: a rhythmic succession of single tones organized as an aesthetic whole

The first letter went like this:

MAY 14

Call me at 6:00 p.m.

It's Grayson.

-

There is static along with the soft melody and for a moment I think that I am picturing something different coming from the speaker above. I roll onto my side and wrap my arms around my stomach. The barred window at the very top of the wall lets in little light, but it's enough that it hits the grayness of the hard, cold walls, and I allow myself to stare at it. I think for a moment that they are moving, like shadows on a sidewalk, and I am a part of that sidewalk.

The song plays over on repeat and for a moment I imagine it is "Through the Trees."

"All alone in an empty room
nothing left but the memories of when I had my best friend
I don't know how we ended up here-"

This can't be happening.

"I don't know but it's never been so clear
We made a mistake, dear.
And I see the broken glass in front of me
I see your shadow hanging over me-"

I bare my teeth and wrap my hands over my ears instead.

I scream again. I scream until I think my throat is bleeding, even though it isn't.

I hate this. I hate this. I hate this.

For the moment that I close my eyes, his eyes are bearing into mine. It's Nikolai Wolf's. They are as black as the night, the pupil swollen and hot, and I want to gash my teeth until my own gums begin to bleed.

And there is that evil in his voice, as sweet and sickly as the juice running from the hand of the original apple.

I know they are still out there reaping the benefits of murder.

Unless Grayson has gotten to them.

But I know he hasn't.

No yet.

He's waiting.

I turn my body and let my arms go limp on the ground. I spread them out as though I am making an angel in the Minnesota snow.

God, I hate this freakin' song.

I look up at the vents-one catches my eyes- in the ceiling as the song plays over and over again. His mouth comes into my mind, the blood dripping onto his chin, sliding across the mole there, that birthmark as distant as a river.

I imagine Grayson's face; I imagine him saying:

Wake up.

-

It is 6:00 in the evening. Isolation lasted four hours. I don't think they would have taken me out if Dr. SinClair hadn't gotten my slip, if Phil hadn't gone to the hospital for a split lip.