Compatible Monsters - 1

She sits curled in a corner on the floor,

Rocking back and forth, eyes tightly shut,

Trying to repel the coming dark,

And with it all the tiny bugs and germs,

Crawling on her skin and in her hair,

Arms held tightly, straight jacket cocoon,

She daren`t open them, lest they notice,

And crawl inside her mouth, her ears, her nose,

Watching them devour both her eyes.

Tiny little room with small window,

Single shaft of sunlight on the floor,

Lumpy bed, bolted to the wall,

Left unused, for madness never sleeps,

She rarely leaves the floor (they`re in the sheets),

Always rocking back and forth, all day,

Long dark hair hangs limply in her face,

Every fingernail filed to a claw.

She rarely speaks, but never stops thinking,

Immersed in her own thoughts and memories,

And the most carefully crafted plan:

Smash her face against the concrete wall,

Bleed like hell, then call for a nurse,

When he comes to check her injuries,

Tear his face to ribbons, take the keys,

And get the hell out of this place for good.

The first strike on the concrete hurts like hell. 

"Push past the pain", she whispers. "Don't give up."

Over and over, until blood stains the floor, 

The wall, her jacket, congealed in her hair,

With every strike, she cries out in pain,

Voice unused and scratchy, weak and soft,

Frustrated, she tries to shout again,

When a voice beyond the wall says, "Stop."

Stunned, her big eyes open and aware,

Her fingers on the wall, she says, "Hello?

Is someone there? Please tell me who you are.

I don't get visitors -- only needles,

So it's hard to tell what's real or false;

If you're a real person, please tell me so,

But if your voice is only in my head,

I will smash you out onto the floor."

"I wouldn't recommend it," says the voice,

The orderlies don't care if you bleed out.

Besides, we both know you don't want to die;

You want what we all do, little girl:

To get the hell out of this awful place,

Live a life worth living. Am I wrong?

But the truth is, if you want to leave,

Concussion's not the answer -- patience is."

She looks around the room and starts to cry.

"I shouldn't be here now -- I'm not crazy --

I just wanted to be left alone.

He wouldn't stop. I screamed my damned head off.

Worms and maggots poured from his angry mouth.

He just laughed and pulled a butcher knife,

So I did the only thing I could:

I took the blade, and cut the bastard down."

"I'm sorry that you had to go through that,

That monsters roam the world in plainest sight,

And that you're here -- this is no kind of place

For someone so young, and so strong willed.

I don't know your name, or where you're from,

But friends are hard to come by in this place.

Here's what I propose: I will be your friend,

But you must promise not to hurt yourself."

"Why should I believe a word you say?

How do I know you're not in my head,

Part of my subconscious, tricking me?

You still haven't told me your name,

Where you came from, what you're doing here,

Or what's in it for you to be my friend.

Pardon me for being suspicious,

But I don't need saving, Prince Charming."

"You'll believe me -- there's no other choice.

I'm the only hope you have, my friend.

I've been here for so long, you won't believe

How much I've seen and heard around this place;

I know every inch of this hellhole,

Every secret, rumour and favour,

Every dirty nurse and crooked guard.

Without me you won't make it out your door.

Does she trust him, or heed her instinct?

He's not been rude or otherwise uncouth,

But why wait until now to say something?

Still, he seems to want to lend a hand,

Besides, his voice is smooth, but with a bite --

Like a stiff drink, his voice is soothing.

At worst, he's someone to talk to,

And who knows? Maybe he can be helpful.

"Fine", she mutters, "But remember this:

Betray me and I'll gut you like a fish."

----

- © Jackson Cambridge, 2015.