Page 77 of Hello, Listener
“Just leave her alone, Alan.” I try my best to keep my voice stable.
“After all I did for you, and you chose him. I DID ALL OF THIS FOR YOU! I KILLED ALL OF THESE PEOPLE FOR YOU!” His calm voice turns into loud wails as he scans over Thalia’s shivering body. The look of defeat moves over her disheveled form.I need to get her the fuck out of here.The calm and collected version of Alan that I once knew has long gone. The blood, Thalia’s and Jace’s blood, he wears on his once stain-free business casual attire, mixes with his tears and sweat that stream down his face.
“Let’s just take her out of here. She’s lost a lot of blood. She needs a doctor.”
“I’m not ready to see her go.” He shakes his head. “You can’t take Thalia from me. Not again.”
“Let’s just all just leave. Get a doctor to look at you both. You and I can have a drink and talk this out.” I start to walk around Alan, still carrying Thalia limply in my arms. He watches us carefully the closer I make my way over to the door.
“Please don’t do this, Thalia.” He looks down at the floor with his fists clenched. “Please don’t leave me.” I notice him sidestep a few short steps to the closest wall. “Do you have any idea how it feels to want someone so badly, and you can’t do anything about it?” He pauses. “How do the thoughts of that person consume your mind constantly?”
I pay close attention to his hands as they reach for something propped up against the wall.
“Of course you wouldn’t.” I can hear the words catch in his throat. “Thoughts of you have made me do so many things that I would have never done before I met you.” He smiles to himself. “Ifeel like a whole new man now.” He grips the mysterious object in his hand.I know what I have to do.
“Thalia, Sweetheart. I need you to go to the car.” I whisper next to her ear. “I don’t care if you have to fucking drag yourself over there. Just go and don’t look back.”
“I can’t leave you,” she cries.Please don't cry, Thalia. I don't want my last memory of you to be like this.
“Just fucking listen to me. I’m going to let you go, okay? Reach into my pocket, grab my keys, and get the hell out of here. Don't fucking look back.” This time I can’t stop my tears from falling. I kiss the top of her head as she grabs my car keys.
“I’ll meet you there, Thalia. Just get in the car, and don't look back.” I kiss her one last time and watch her as she falls to the gravel. Within a split second, all I can see is Alan swinging a long metal bar. I feel a crushing pain on the side of my head. My vision goes dark, and I fall to the ground.
“LEE!” I scream as he falls on the hard gravel. I drag my worn and weak body over to his. “Please, don’t die! Please, stay with me." Heavy breathing interrupts my sobs. "You're going to be okay. It'll all be fine. Please, don’t die.” My pleas are loud cries. More of mytears cover his black shirt.I didn't think I had any left.“Please don’t leave me, too. You have to wake up. Please, Lee, just wake up.”
“We have to get out of here, Thalia.” Alan reaches down for my arm.
“No. I can’t leave him here." Lee's body lay still. "You killed him.Why did you kill him?”
“He tried to take you from me. You were made forme, Listener. I won’t let anyone else have you.” Seeing his face covered in tears, and with his forced smile, is terrifying. “Please, Thalia. I need you.”
“You killed him.” I shake my head and watch more of my tears fall on Lee's chest.
“I killed him for you. I would kill anyone so I can have you.”
“My Little Bird in Her Cage”
Two Months Later
It's cold in here. It's always cold. I catch myself staring down at the large pink scar that wraps around my leg to my upper thigh. Alan says that once he thinks I'm better, he'll tell them to let me come home.To his home. He says he'll schedule a time with the best artist in the city to fix my tattoo. The raised skin along the malformed line still feels foreign on my fingertips.
Alan comes to visit me every day. He sits with me on my bed in my assigned room. He holds me each night until visiting hours are over. He lets me cry against his chest, and he kisses the top of my head. His touch is so comforting when he runs his hand down the small of my back. My body and mind are desperate traitors, and I cling to him for the only source of comfort I have.He's all I have left.
My nightmares over the past few months have only worsened. I wake up in pools of cold sweat in the late hours of the night. Nurses come to my rescue when they hear my screams. My doctor says once my body gets used to my new medication, the dreamswill get less and less. I don't know what is worse, continuous nights of watching the memory of Lee dying and my best friend's bloody corpse in my mind, or nights of dark, empty, nothingness.
My doctor prescribes another medication to make the torment go away. One for my physical pain, a few for my newfound depression, and several others for mental stabilization. I have become a walking pharmaceutical zombie.
With one look at my scars and another at the wealthy man who claims to be my boyfriend, it was obvious to them that I was admitted for my clinical depression. There was no mention of the new sorrowful outlook on life that was caused by theboyfriendbeing a serial killer. The few warning glances from Alan were a strong indication that I was not going to challenge that claim. However, I haven't determined which would be worse– sitting alone in this mental rehab center, or the chance of death and being free from this place.
I visit Thalia every evening after work. I smile at all the nurses I walk past on my way to her room. They eagerly grin back at the man who pays for Thalia’s treatment.
Thalia’s room is always cold. She stays under the thick, black comforter I brought in for her. She sits up in her bed as if she’s been waiting all day for my visit. Her now-fading red hair hangsaround her shoulders. It frames her pale, slender face. She's like my weak little bird trapped in her cage.
If she isn't dissociating and staring at the painted-over white brick walls, her stare is focused on one of the several books I provided.
Each visit, she tells me about her day in the facility and what she's read. It's always the same, but I will never get tired of our time together. I gaze at Thalia intently as her words seep into my mind the way warm scotch enters my bloodstream. Afterwards, I hold her while she cries into my cotton shirt. Like any guilty pleasure, this is what I look forward to in every one of my visits. She lets me cling to her until I'm forced to let her go.
Eight o'clock comes too soon and I have to prepare us both for our evening to end. It's the same routine we have each night. Thalia’s eyes continue to overflow with pleading tears when I make my attempt to climb out of her bed.
