Nonconformity | Henry Creel

Putting a Gun in My Mouth

Six and I sat across from one another. She was uncharacteristically quiet today, doodling aimlessly on a piece of paper. The silence was only broken up by her occasional sigh. Now, most days I would have welcomed it, but the air conditioning was especially loud today, and I was especially irritable.

Palming the pill was far too easy last night, and tricking Gloria into thinking I had taken it was even easier. I suppose the universe would only grant me so many mercies at once, though, and I had to pay for them in the form of yet another sleepless night.

It was embarrassing how many hours I had spent mulling over Peter. Each interaction, each smile, each glance. I couldn't explain the sudden interest. I hardly knew the man, hardly trusted him, but my heart didn't seem to care.

In any other circumstance, perhaps I would have indulged such desires. But I knew better. The risk of getting close to anyone in the hell-like purgatory that was Papa's lab far outweighed the reward. My heart could trust Peter as much as it liked, but deep down, I couldn't count on anyone to get me out of here but myself. Not to mention the ever-looming threat of Papa's tasers.

On the other hand, I knew the second I was back in Peter's presence, all of my logic would go out the window. It happened before, and it would certainly happen again. I'd trade all of my pledges to self-preservation for rose-colored glasses as though I didn't have any impulse control. The back and forth of my emotions was enough to give me motion sickness.

I cursed myself for being so spineless.

But how could I be anything else?

Irrationally, I blamed Peter, too. I blamed him for being so kind, so beautiful, so warm. Didn't he know what he was doing? Didn't he know I wanted him to stop? Part of me wished he was more like Papa. Arrogant, easy to see through, lacking in any charm. I wish I hated him. Everything would be so much easier if I hated him.

I wanted him to be cruel. Perhaps, then, I wouldn't like him so much.

The growing bluster of the air conditioning pulled me out of my own head. The bittersweet distraction made me grind my teeth in annoyance. I was tired of thinking, tired of hearing, tired of seeing. Or, I was just tired. My eyes fought to stay open as the air conditioning grew louder and louder.

The ceaseless billowing came from all directions, unrelenting despite my efforts to cover my ears and block them out. I peered around the room in search of anyone else who was affected by the awful noise. All I managed to do, though, was lock eyes with Peter. He sat with a group of my siblings in the midst of a conversation I didn't care to listen to.

An irritated huff left my lips as I turned back to Six.

"I'm going to put a gun in my mouth," I muttered to her.

"Don't do that," She said dismissively, gaze fixed on her paper, "It probably wouldn't taste good."

"I don't think I'd mind the taste for too long."

The conversation came to a pause. The air conditioning grew louder.

The Rainbow Room was especially lifeless this morning. Most children sat at tables rather than in front of the toys scattered around the room. Without their soft, susurrant whispers, the a/c was louder. I couldn't stand it.

"Why is everyone so quiet?" I asked, "Why are you so quiet? Did someone die?"

Six finally dropped her pencil and met my eyes. "Oh, this is your first testing day, isn't it?" I nodded, unsure of what that meant. "I've been going through testing days my whole life, they're not too bad. Basically, we all have individual training today, and Papa comes to watch each of us to see how we're progressing. I don't usually take it too seriously, but our siblings..." She glanced around at them, "They want to impress Papa, so they spent all morning conserving their powers and meditating. I don't really understand what it's supposed ot accomplish, it's never made a difference for me."