Page 17 of Starve
The solarium door opens, then closes sharply with a flurry of movement. Hattie presses herself against it, sagging, and hershoulders shake as she presses her head to the heavy wood. My heart twists in concern, and I slowly, carefully get to my feet. She hasn’t seen me, that much is certain. But I’m not sure if I should involve myself in whatever is happening here.
Please, don’t let me regret this,I plead silently. Setting down my pillow and book, I clear my throat so she knows I’m here, but Hattie doesn’t turn from the door. She’s swaying a little, and her curly red hair obscures her features from me. Like every time I’ve seen her since my arrival, she looks unkempt and a little unwell.
“Hey…” I greet, creeping closer to her. She’s never struck me as someone who’s violent, but I still can’t help wanting to be careful. My stomach twists a little in concern, and I take a step to the side, giving her more of an opportunity to actually see me. “Hattie?”
At her name, she whirls around, eyes wide, and studies my face with a look of panicked confusion. Once she sees it’s me, however, the panic fades, and she slumps back against the door as if she can barely hold up her weight. “Fern,” she sighs out, like it’s a relief.
“Yeah, it’s just me. Are you?—”
“What are you doing here?” she asks, as if I hadn’t been speaking. Her eyes move rapidly over the medium-sized room, going everywhere like there’s some hidden threat to be found.
I try to seem relaxed and at ease, but it’s a losing battle. So I smile kindly at her and say, “I’m just reading. I’m sort of tired, and I was just hoping to find?—”
“No, no.” She shakes her head and runs a hand through her hair, looking frustrated. “No, what are you doinghere?”
It takes me a moment to guess her meaning. But telling an unwell mental patient who definitely needs to be here the details of my issues isn’t what I signed up for today. Then again, it’s not like she’s going to judge me, and I doubt she’s going to tellanyone. “I hurt myself.” With a sigh, I show her my bandaged hand. She reaches out with jerky movements, and latches onto my wrist with a surprisingly strong grip.
“Oh…no…you shouldn’t—” Her eyes find mine, mournful at my admission. “No, that’s not fair. That’s not right.”
“You’re telling me,” I agree dryly, trying to grin and mostly failing. Not that she really seems to notice. Her thumb strokes over the bandage, and I swear she seems to fidget without really moving. But I’ve noticed Hattie is so restless all the time, not just now.
“Do you need me to get you some help?” I ask at last, letting her draw me over to the window where I was reading before. My stomach clenches nervously at not knowing what she’s doing, and the sudden fear that she’s going to launch forward and gnaw out my throat. But I remind myself I’m being stupid, and feeding into stereotypes. Hattie has never done anything to me, and she seems pretty nice, all things considered.
“No.” Her voice is soft as she turns to lean against the window. She brings her hand up, and by extension mine too, until she can press them both to the glass before turning to stare out the thick, wavy pane with thoughtful contemplation. “You saw them.” Her words aren’t a question.
But somehow, I know exactly what she means. I look out the window as well, worrying my bottom lip between my teeth. “I don’t know,” I say finally, my words slow and unsure. “What is it you think I saw?” There’s nothing out there now. I haven’t seen anything strange at all today, except this morning with Cairo in the shed. And not to mention Hattie in the bathroom after group therapy, though I can’t be sure she remembers that.
She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, her fingers trace shapes in the glass, though without it being foggy, nothing is showing up. She just stands there with both of our hands on the glass, like I haven’t asked her anything. But I’m good at beingpatient when I really need to be. Though I’m sure my mother would disagree with that statement. So I just watch her, hoping she’ll be ready to explain.
“They’re just so hungry, he says. And I’ve seen them.” I don’t know what she’s talking about, and it feels like I missed the first half of the conversation. I think back, scanning my brain for any clue at all about what she’s trying to say, but I find nothing.Nothingechoes back at me, and without an explanation from her, I don’t think I’ll be able to decipher what the hell she means.
“Who’s hungry? And who says? What are you?—”
From the corner of my eye, movement in the trees outside catches my attention and I turn to look, just as I hear Moro barking from somewhere in the courtyard, though the sound dwindles after only a few seconds. Not only that, but I now can’t see anything in the trees, no matter how hard I look. It makes me wonder if I was just imagining things in my sudden paranoia.
“Hattie, what is going on here?” Stepping closer to her, I reach up with my other hand to lightly grip her arm, hoping I don’t scare her away but also striving to get her full attention on me.
It works, in a way.
Hattie looks at me with wide brown eyes, the freckles spattered over her nose looking stark against her paleness. Her hands come up to mirror mine, gripping my sleeves just under my shoulders before she leans in until our foreheads are almost touching. “They’restarving,” she whispers with wide eyes and a tremble in her voice. “You don’t understand, Fern, how hungry they are. He showed me what they look like. He told me they deserve to eat.”
“Who showed you?Whatdid he show you?” More and more, I’m starting to wonder if this is her delusions speaking, rather than something real. I’m almost embarrassed to be so drawn into it when I know she’s troubled and really needs help. She’snot talking sense, and she’s not saying anything I can interpret, I’m sure.
Voices outside catch my attention. When I turn at the sound of frantic footsteps, Hattie grips my arms more tightly. “It’s not what you think.” Her words are rapid, panicked. “They aren’t like us, and they’re so hungry. You can’t hate them when they did what they had to in order to survive.” The words ring familiar, but I’m too distracted by the steps and voices getting nearer.
“Hattie—”
“They’ve never had someone say hi to them before. They liked the message on your window.”
My blood goes cold, and I turn back to her, feeling like the world is spinning under me. “How do you know?—”
But I don’t get to finish the question. The door snaps open, revealing two women, one of whom is the orderly who showed me around yesterday. “She’s in here!” she calls back to the other employees, and Hattie jerks away from me, shoving me hard enough that I stumble.
“I wasn’t lost,” a confused, slightly hysterical Hattie snaps to them. “I don’t need help.”
But Esther’s smile says otherwise. She doesn’t so much coax Hattie out as drag her, with the help of her cohort, though she turns to give me a concerned look over her shoulder before she goes. “Did she hurt you?” Esther asks, looking me over.
I shake my head, not sure what to say. “N-no,” I stammer at last, leaning back against the window again with my arms wrapped around myself like I need the support. “No, she just…” But I trail off under Esther’s watchful eye before taking a breath to steady myself. “She just wanted to talk.”
