The Asylum

Chapter 3

I sit at my desk days later, yet this time, instead of a towel, I have a pair of pants in my lap. The pants are rough and torn at places, and I wonder if I should hand wash them for the unlucky patient who will receive them.

Seeing the pants reminds me of William and his dirty room, having more things in common with a dog kennel than a living space for a human being.

Which of course reminds me of the patient living in Ward 76.

I hadn't noticed at the time, but Claire had stated the patient's name was Muse while she was lecturing me, which is a peculiar name, granted.

But, as I think about this name, letting it sit on my tongue, bounce around in my brain, I realize...

Muse can be defined as an inspiration; a kindling.

"Play with inspiration! Play with fire!"

My hands drop the pants, and they bunch on my lap, wrinkling, ruining my handiwork.

Maybe...

Maybe Muse has something more to her than meets the eye.

I'm pretty sure I came this way, I think, slinking down yet another crystalline hallway, dusted with scratches on the walls and scraps of clothes and food on the floor. No one bothers to pick them up or paint over the scratches.

I shiver, as if a breeze just passed right through me.

Finally, I reach the gate that closes in Ward 74. I sneak a peek inside, my eyes trying to find a way through the bars, and see William gazing at the ceiling. His hands reach for it, like butterflies, waving softly and slowly through the air.

Hovering, reaching, grabbing, failing.

For a moment, his hands stop drifting from side to side, and hang motionless in the air. It becomes quiet, like the earth has stopped turning on its axis, everyone listening in.

I stop breathing.

Then, suddenly, startling me and causing me to sharply inhale, he jerks them to his sides, and starts to yell, "Boom boom! BOOM BOOM!" He stands up and bangs his hands on the walls, sending vibrations throughout the building that reach my feet and seem to shake my entire body, making my hands shudder at my sides.

A nurse runs past me, unaware of my existence, and enters his room. I continue walking past, hearing her whisper gently to him. From the sounds of struggle, it's obvious he's not listening.

And then, just a few steps in front of me, I see hands gripping the bars of a ward, clinging on tightly like hands gripping the handle of a dagger.

I breathe in.

Keep it short; I can't afford to get caught again.

I step into her eyesight.

She looks exactly the same as she did the first time I confronted her, but there's something in the way her eyes hang lazily. As if she expected me somehow; knew I was coming. It sends a shiver down my spine.

"You come to play?" Muse doesn't shriek this, instead just says it in a high pitched yet gravelly voice. Her hands flex, and I can see the veins bulge, like a filling balloon.

"Um, no. Not today. Instead..." I reach into my pocket, and Muse follows my hand down to my waist with her eyes. I've piqued her interest.

Hopefully not too much.

Finally, I pull the mystery object out.

"I'm going to fix your hair."
She stares at the brush in my hand, squinting at the soft, worn down bristles, fascinated. Her mouth hangs open slightly, creating an "o", and her eyes widen. I wonder if she's ever seen one before; has anyone ever even touched her hair?