I’m paired with Meridei ofall people. The inky-haired, sneering-faced snake of a woman.
Or,TheWater Warden,as I like to call her in my thoughts. It’s a suitable title for her after what I’ve seen. She does not smile, her eyes are as black as her hair, and she specializes in drowning patients.
I was given my uniform to change into in the lobby. Navy blue, with a bow pressed down across my chest. Delphine applied gray, shimmery paints to my eyelids and a blush red to my lips and cheeks before I left this morning. She unraveled the rollers from my hair and ran her nails through each curl. My hair was transformed then—each bouncy curl was smoothed out to assume the soft ruffling of a gold satin bedsheet. I didn’t mind it as much as I minded the smoke over my eyes. Delphine claimed it makes my iris glow like sea foam on the ocean floor. But I thought it made me look older, hardened like a garden path of mud that has had time to dry and only exists to be stepped on by strangers.
Meridei shows me around the dining hall, pressuring me with her soulless eyes to only grab one or two items from the buffet. I watch her fingers pluck two squares of cheese and a strawberry. My stomach gurgles on cue as I gaze hopelessly at the array of colorful fruits and steaming meats. I decide on one egg, cooked over easy, and a handful of blueberries.
I’m going to need to learn effective ways to sneak food out of Aurick’s kitchen at night.I don’t know how I’ll ever think straight enough to accomplish anything here if I’m constantly reminded of my empty gut and unquenchable cramps of hunger.
Meridei does not look back as she glides across the dining hall to find an empty table. With my glass of orange juice in one hand and my plate in the other, I quicken my steps to meet her at a table directly in the center of the hall. The voices flowing happily at each circular, mahogany table begin to slow and lower to hushed tones. In the back of the room, the gentleman playing a grand piano slows his contact with each key. My breath picks up in pace, and my heart thumps loudly under my chest and in my ears like a war drum, sounding off that an enemy is about to attack.
“It’s like seeing a ghost,” someone whispers.
For a moment, I thought this was because I was new. But with that sharp whisper, I’m reminded of the opinions that must be circulating about me. The fresh rumors that have blossomed in my wake.
She killed her own sister.
Was it because they were twins? Because she wanted to steal her life?
Keep a close eye on that one.
She should have been checked in as a patient.
I suddenly wish that the floor was covered in fluffy carpet. My heels clapping down on the shiny hardwood floor are the loudest sounds in this room, like a trumpet sounding off my arrival.
Meridei waves me over with a taunting smile.
I want to slump my shoulders in defeat. The walk of shame to eat my five blueberries. I expected unwanted attention, but that was brutal. That is only the energy pouring out across the floor, into the roomful of people—negative and judgmental—devouring me in a flood as it reaches my ankles and pulls my head underwater. I even hold my breath to keep from swallowing it all too fast.
“That was lovely,” Meridei says softly as I sit down in the chair across from her.
I don’t respond.
She keeps her dark eyes leveled with mine as she takes a bite of her breakfast slowly, savoring every flavor. I take small sips of my glass of orange juice, rolling the pulp over my tongue, waiting several seconds to meet Meridei’s eyes again.
“The rumors are only going to grow in volume,” she says again.
I decide she’s baiting me. Testing the length of my fuse. Studying my levels of strength and tolerance.
“I am sure you’re right,” I say, squishing a blueberry between my teeth. The sweet tartness bursts over my gums.
“And the ladies and gentlemen behind those rumors can be quite cruel.”
“Most likely.”Get on with it before you bore me to death.
“Then you’ll come to know how short lived your stay here will be.” Her head tilts mechanically, like the gears in her neck have thick layers of rust.
I set my fork down and hold her stare without a single bat of an eyelash. Scarlett once had a confrontation with a woman named Belinda here. She threatened her in the washroom. Scarlett said that she stared at the blonde-headed switchblade without blinking and began to laugh hysterically. She told me that if her mind seemed unpredictable, then Belinda could only assume her actions would be as well.
I don’t dare to laugh like a maniac—yet. But perhaps, burning her internally with a stare so closely resembling a dead girl’s will do the trick.
“But I’m certain you’ll get on fine.” Her eyes drop. She licks the yellow yolk from the busted egg from her fingertips. A slight shrug from her narrow shoulders. “Just as I am certain training you today will be the most fun.”
~
My pulse racing and erraticunder my skin for the remainder of the day. The other conformists stare wide eyed as I cross their paths. Their lips purse tightly, and their drawn-on eyebrows rise in holy judgment. They exchange whispers like I’m a notorious harlot that was found in a married man’s bed.
I follow Meridei to the chair-binding treatment room. She refers to this treatment as “boring” because it lacks the thrill of seeing them fight for their survival. She believes that particular part of the simulated drowning treatment is what convinces the patient to conform, to act how we want them to.
