Page 18 of Heart of a Killer

She is really worked up over this situation with her family, and I can relate because I have the same issue with my dad. He cares but only about himself and what I can do for him. Scooting closer, I put my arm around her, and her head rests on my shoulder. Her shampooed hair smells clean, like lavender, and I can smell a faint whiff of smoke mixed in. This connection I have with Brie now warms my heart.

“Hey, love birds.” Leland—Alex—drops his tray with a loud clunk heard throughout the cafeteria.

“Quiet over there,” one of the orderlies yells.

Leland holds his hands up to ward them off while whispering under his breath, “Don’t get your panties in a wad.”

And Brie and I burst out laughing. The pink on Leland’s—Alex’s—cheeks brightens. “Gah, shut up, you two,” he huffs, only making us laugh harder.

* * *

Another nightof not being able to sleep. I turn over in bed and hear a slight crinkle that’s different from the plastic sound of the bed. Remembering the note Brie slipped me, I reach into my pocket and pull out a scrap of paper. In red crayon scrawled in cursive:Meet me 2nd floor 2nite. I crumple up the paper and shove it into the hole of my mattress.

Getting out of my bed, I plant my feet on the icy floor and tiptoe to the door. This is the first time I’ve attempted to leave my room in the middle of the night. The screams from the other patients terrify me. I’m not sure what makes them scream, whether it’s their own dreams or the orderlies keeping them in line. A lot of what they do for punishment is still unknown to me. Still, there is always a sense from Brie and Alex that we should follow their rules, such as eating at least fifty percent of every meal and not leaving our room after lights-out. They don’t explain the consequences, but the worried looks Brie and Alex give me when I don’t eat my food cause my gut to twist in on itself.

Leaving my room, I follow the wall until I see a sign for stairs. The door isn’t locked when I pull it open, and I walk up to the second floor.

As I move down the hall, a faint sound like a piano plays in the distance; the music hits deep in my soul. It’s almost a sad sound, and I keep walking toward it. The lights in the hallway are dim and coat everything in a yellow hue. As I continue, the music gets louder. I’m getting closer. My hand runs over the chipped and peeling paint on the walls. Cobwebs line the corners, and dust coats everything. Plastic sheets cover all the furniture, protecting them from damage. This hallway must be the storage wing, a part of the ward no one goes to. When I finally make it to the door where the sound is coming from, I realize sitting at an old mahogany piano playing this soft, sad song is Brie. Her soft dirty blond hair catches in the moonlight. I tiptoe toward her and slide in beside her on the bench. Her eyes are closed. She is lost in the music as her fingers glide over the keys. She looks up at me.

“What were you playing?” I ask her, scooting in closer to her. My shoulder bumps hers, making her play a discordant note before returning to the music again.

“It’s called ‘Metamorphosis.’ It feels like the right song. We are all here trying to shed who we once were to change into something new and beautiful.”

“That’s deep, Brie. It reminds me a bit of dying.”

She sighs and stops playing to look at me.

“You finally read my note and couldn’t sleep either, huh?” I shake my head in response, and a shy smile adorns her face. “I honestly didn’t think you would come.”

Her pink lip pouts. I stare at them, growing hot, wanting to kiss the sadness that lingers there. Placing my hand on her cheek, I lean in and plant my lips on hers. She doesn’t pull away from me, but she also feels distant. She’s frowning when I pull away, and I’ve only made her feel worse.

Quickly changing the subject, I ask, “You come up here to play all the time?”

“I can never sleep,” she admits as her shoulders fall.

“Why?”

“The shadows creep in on me.”

I get an eerie sensation when she tells me that, and a wail of a baby crying rings in my ears behind us.

“Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?

“It came from over there.”

Leaping up from the seat on a mission, I break away from our moment. The back walls are lined with an assortment of luggage cases in varying faded colors. My finger glides over them, leaving an outline in the dust. These have been here for a while.

“These are from the patients who have died. Most are from the early nineteen hundreds. Except for one of them.”

Her head is turned to the side. I follow her gaze to a duffle bag on the lower shelf in the corner. When I walk toward it, Brie’s hand grips my forearm.

“Don’t,” she whispers softly.

I’m scared to ask her who that one belonged to because the aura around her is dark. It’s as if a storm has come in and planted itself right over Brie. My muscles strain in her grasp. I’m unsure what to do for her. She must know who that bag belongs to because her eyes shine with unshed tears.

“Come with me, Brie. Come sleep with me. I can hold you while you tell me all about it,” I say, placing my hand over hers and giving it an encouraging squeeze.

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