Peppermint And Gunpowder

Chapter Twenty-Four: The Boy Who Never Existed At All

Gracie lays curled on my lap, sleeping soundly. I play with the ends of her hair, and hum softly.

If buttercups buzzed after the bee, if boats were on land, churches on sea;

I do not hear the door open, nor see Olivia walk in.

If ponies rode men, and if grass ate cows, and cats were chased into holes by mice.

Gracie breathes slowly, inhaling deeply and exhaling strongly. Olivia stands beside the bed, frown etched in a baby pink lipgloss, folder clutched in manicured hands.

If the mamas sold their babies, to gypsies for half a crown.

"Is she sleeping?" Olivia whispers, eyeing Gracie sorrowfully. I nod, twirling a lock of Gracie's hair around my index finger. Her lipgloss frown curls up, and maybe could be considered a smile but not quite.

If summer were spring and the other way around,

"You've already taken your medication today, soon it will make the bad thoughts go away." When she smiles, her eyes crinkle. She looks like she's trying to look like she's smiling, but she isn't really smiling. A fake smile, like her fake rose perfume and baby pink lipgloss. "But you'll have to come with me, just for a little while. My... friend will stay here with Gracie, make sure she's safe."

"I don't want to leave Gracie." I scowl, keeping my hand firmly on Gracie's shoulder.

"It will only be for a little while, Gracie will be fine. You have to come with me." Her voice raises slightly over normal. "My friend will be here the whole time, he will keep her safe."

I slide out from under Gracie, slipping a pillow where my legs once were, hoping she doesn't realize that I moved away. I have to cooperate with this woman, with these people, because if I don't, who knows what'll happen. They could hurt Gracie, they could hurt the boys. They know where the boys are.

Then all the world would be upside down.

"Alright." I brush non existent dirt off my slacks, out of habit more than cleanliness. Why would there be dirt here? Everything is too clean.

Olivia smiles briefly again, before turning on her heel and walking out the door. A man who's name I do not know walks in, broad shoulders and eyes so blue they're almost black. He sits on Gracie's bunk, across from my own. He watches Gracie with an unfaltering gaze.

I go to follow Olivia out the door, but stop in the threshold, hand on the frame. I turn to look at the man, but the man does not look at me.

Quietly, barely above a whisper--so quiet he may not even hear me, I say with an unshaking tone: "If anything happens to her, if you touch her, even if it's the last thing I do, I will kill you."

The man does not flinch, no more than a flick of his more black than blue eyes in my gaze.

The halls in a bleach white colour, reeking of chemicals as if they'd doused the walls sterilization. There are no windows, but doors with key locks and security codes. Ceilings melt to walls, walls melt to floors, and the cycle starts over again.

Square tiles, over polished linoleum, no scuff marks in sight. Olivia's heels click as she walks, and I half expected her to slip, but her gait never falters.

She swipes a key cards, types a pin too fast, and pushes the door at the end of the hall open with a click and a buzz.

Inside the room is a metal table and four chairs, one of which is occupied by a man with tired eyes.

Olivia sits in the chair beside him, and gestures for me to sit across from her. I do, holding the edge of the table so tight my knuckles turn white.