Burlap

18 - Psycho

Tuesday and Wednesday rolled through without anything out of the norm. No special calls from Shilling, no extra attention from Paul, and Ernie had called in sick Wednesday, so we were relieved of Physical Activity. After John's apology to Marcie, the dynamic between us all shifted back to normalcy, and by the time Thursday rolled around everyone had gotten over the little spat. Marcie was still in her stupor, but little things changed over time, signaling her gradual return to her normal, cheery self.

Group Therapy consisted of a new addition that week. Instead of the chairs being arranged in a circle with nothing in the middle, Paul had brought in a large card table. George eyed the new piece with a strange, curious suspicion, but stood at one of the chairs and pulled out both on either side for me and Lottie. He'd just pushed Lottie's chair closer to the table with her in it when the door opened.

"Katherine Thornton?" the receptionist, who I'd grown to like for her constant sunny disposition, beamed. George pulled my chair away, allowing me to stand. I thanked him and walked over to the bubbly woman.

"Visitor!" she chirped, grinning as though nothing could possibly ever be wrong in the world. I looked back at my ward mates to make sure they heard where I'd be going. Lottie nodded, but George stared blankly at the receptionist. The more I studied him, however, the more I realized his expression wasn't actually blank, but observant. He seemed to be taking her in, as if she were a rare species of bird and he was a top notch ornithologist.

But that description didn't seem to quite fit either. It was more like... like he was a method actor, studying for a role. His eyes caught her every expression, every movement, every word to be stored for later. But, for what?

My musings shut down when he finally looked at me. Like Lottie, he nodded and turned back to the odd table as Paul began handing out construction paper and crayons. As if we were all in elementary school. The insult rang loud and clear, though only those of us from Ward F looked lucid enough to catch it. George's nose wrinkled in disgust and even the childlike Lottie seemed put off from the implication that we were so unintelligent we had to share our feelings via crude crayon drawing.

I took my opportunity to skip that particular catastrophe and followed Miss Receptionist down to the first floor, where an orderly did his usual routine of leading me into the visitation room and cuffing me to the table. A few more residents were sprinkled throughout the room this time, all from different wards and all looking terrifying to varying degrees. I wondered what they'd done, and if all of them were fully evil. I couldn't imagine there being so many people who were solid evil that they would fill an entire institute. Even in our ward, the one Shilling had called the worst of the worst, I saw far more good than bad in my ward mates. If that was the case for us, how much more unfair and traumatizing was it for the residents in the other wards?

Robbie walked in while I observed those around me with a studious eye, reminding myself of George a little bit. Except something in the way he had watched the receptionist had set me on edge. Something strange and unnatural.

I smiled at Robbie when he sat down in front of me, across the table.

"I'd give you a hug, but the whole handcuffs thing makes it awkward, and that orderly is looking at me like I might spring you from the place with a secret key or something," he blurted, turning to give a rebellious thumbs up and cheeky grin to said orderly.

I laughed as the orderly crossed his tree trunk arms across his chest while shooting my ring master a dirty look. "Anyone ever told you that you have a problem with authority?"

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "I'm a Jensen. Of course I do. That's why I'm always the boss, Kate. Where have you been for the past decade?"

God, the banter felt so melodically normal, and I basked in it, absorbing the familiarity. I'd missed it. Eating dinner in his cabin while we laughed over stupid things. Making quips at each other during practice. Why had I never seen that sibling bond he'd tried so hard to foster before? Had I been so blind?

You were too busy having the snot beat out of you by his employees. Power spoke as if she hadn't been the one to insist on slicing Robbie's throat also. As if I hadn't begged and pleaded for her to not include him in the massacre. My hatred for her fueled by her arrogance, I caged her in behind the wall, binding her so tightly I hoped it hurt her. I hoped the wires sliced her perfect pink flesh like she had sliced my brother's. I felt her fury, and made a point to ignore it, dubbing it part of her punishment.

"Hey, you okay?"

I snapped back to the real world, jumping when his voice startled me. "Yeah, sorry. So, what's up?" I asked, plastering on the most sincere grin I could muster.

A heavy sigh blew from his lips so hard it moved pieces of hair from my face. He leaned back, propping his legs up on the table and weaving his fingers behind his head. "Trying to get you out of here. The more I find about this place, the less I like it. And that's saying a lot, because I hated it from the get-go. Even if I can't get you out, you need to find your own way. You can't stay here, Kate."

"Feet on the floor!" the orderly at the door barked, making me flinch. Robbie rolled his eyes and dropped his legs back down, then turned to face the brute with a mocking salute. I stifled a giggle at the raging look in the man's eyes. Over the past six months, between visiting weekly for both John and I, Robbie had become almost overly comfortable with his visits, often poking and prodding the staff, just to get a rise out of them. Of course, that only resulted in subtle retaliations directed at me, but I never let Robbie know about that. Just seeing him so alive and boisterous was worth more than any amount of bruised wrists from purposefully-too-tight handcuffs.

And I hadn't missed the sly flirtations between him and Miss Receptionist either. I knew he often stayed for a few minutes after I'd left, hanging out at the front desk and charming the glowing woman until her cheeks burned red. I tried to imagine having her as a sister-in-law, and the idea appealed to me. Robbie wasn't a playboy by any means, but when he did want something or someone, he got them, one way or another. And, in the deepest crevice of my heart, I hoped he did snag her for himself. Maybe he'd even reinstate his circus and she'd travel with him. With us, if life turned out the way he wanted. Assuming he had changed his mind and would reinstate it.

"You know I can't leave without my ward mates," I said, bringing his attention back toward me, expecting him to give me an exasperated look or say something along the lines of, that's impossible.

Instead, he pleasantly surprised me by nodding in agreement. "I know. I'm working on it, day and night. As many law books and public records as I've looked up, I should have a degree by now."

My face screwed up in disgust. "You? A degree? That thought is revolting. You're a performer. Putting you in a grey suit in a courtroom would be like caging a peacock so his feathers couldn't show." 

That earned me a loud burst of laughter. People all over the room jumped at the sound, shooting wary eyes at our table. Most likely questioning which one of us actually belonged here with the way he was acting.

Robbie reveled in the attention, like a true master of performance shows. He beamed at everyone, his presence seeming much larger and overbearing than it actually was. But, that was his gift. His charm. I'd never met someone more charismatic and suited for the title of ring master than him. He could fill a whole town and then some with his presence when he wanted to.

"So," I began with caution, "have you thought about it?"

His eyebrows drew together in confusion. "About what?"

"Performing. Rebuilding Jensen and Sons."

His enigmatic air wilted and he slumped over the table, not meeting my eyes. "I can't, Kate. I wish I could. I wish I could think myself worthy to bring it back, but I just can't. I failed once, and it hurt my sister more than anyone else. If I fail again, who knows who'll get hurt? Innocent people this time? I just don't feel responsible or worthy enough."

I actively chose not to point out that I was far from the person hurt the most from my attack, and that innocent people were slaughtered the first time. We'd had that very argument too many times to count, and he had it in his head that I was the victim, nothing more. It felt like he thought some third party person committed the heinous murders and not me. Though, how close to the truth that was, I couldn't be sure. It sure didn't feel like Power was some part of me, aside from sharing my head. I couldn't read her thoughts like she could mine. I couldn't predict what she'd do or say. I couldn't control her. She had her own agenda and plans that I didn't know about. Yet my hands held the knife that slit over twenty throats. My body crawled across ceilings and through windows, moving like a snake to her intended targets. How could I ever begin to understand that?

"How will I make a living if you don't? You're far more than capable, and you know it. What happened was my fault, not yours. If you-"

"Kate! I don't want to say it again! It was not your fault! It was theirs! Stop taking the blame for their injustices!" he snapped, anger written across his features as he banged his palms on the table for emphasis. Again, all eyes drew our way, but neither of us paid them any heed.

I glared at him, frustrated with his blindness and insistence that I was some kind of avenging angel and not a murdering psychopath. "They hit me! How does that begin to compare with me killing them? I'm still here. They aren't. You can't say what I did wasn't far worse than-"

"Who wouldn't have snapped?! I can't think of a single person who wouldn't have retaliated somehow. God, Kate, it was self defense as far as I'm concerned!"

My heart raced in my chest, my head spinning as I began to feel faint. I closed my eyes and counted, trying to calm down before I got too riled up and Power took over. In a voice so low I hardly heard it myself, I replied. 

"What about you? What reason did I have to take a butcher knife and slice your throat open like a pig at the slaughter, Robbie? What reason did I have to watch your blood spill from your gaping neck? I all but made a Pez dispenser out of you. For what reason? What did I have to retaliate against you for? You never hit me, kicked me, or beat me. So, why?" I whispered, glowering at him as the world around us faded to black, leaving just the two of us alone at the small table. He had to see that I wasn't innocent. He couldn't keep placing me on a pedestal. At the end of the day, no matter how much I resembled that little mouse my co-performers had so cruelly dubbed me, I was dangerous. I was a murderer, and nothing could change what I'd done in cold blood.

For the first time, the confidence in his demeanor faltered, leaving him confused and unsure. A grim sense of satisfaction that I finally got through to him settled in my stomach, but I couldn't be happy about it. Why couldn't I have just kept letting him believe the best of me? Why did I need him to think the worst? That I was a monster with no conscience? With no heart?

A coolness overtook him as he leaned forward on his elbows, putting his face just inches from mine. I waited, curious about his sudden change.

"I didn't protect you. I didn't protect my sister. That's why."

All the air evacuated my lungs in one fell swoop. 

"I slit your throat! I tried to kill you! Why are you taking the blame for my actions?! I don't understand!" I cried, wishing I could lift my hands from the table and shove them through my hair like John had earlier that week. Hot tears pressed the backs of my eyes and I didn't bother trying to hold them back. They fell, without restraint, in a constant stream down my face as I struggled to keep from screaming in frustration. 

He grabbed my chin, forcing me to look him in the eye, where fire snapped and crackled just beneath the surface. "I know I haven't shown you much of what a family means, Kate, but when you fail someone you care about, there is nothing that can take the guilt away. I failed you, not just as your boss, but as your brother. If you... If you knew half the things I know, you'd understand. But, because of my own faults, you don't. So you're just going to have to listen and accept it. There is nothing you could say or do to make me hate you or be disgusted with you, when my own guilt feels like it will swallow me whole. So stop trying to paint yourself as a monster to me. I've grown up with you. I've trained you and spent more of your life with you than anyone else. I know you, and I know you're not this evil demon you're trying to portray yourself as. So shut your mouth and stop arguing with me and trying to scare me into hating you. It's not going to work, you stupid, stubborn girl."

Of course he was right. I didn't understand the dynamics or emotions of a family. I couldn't begin to understand his reasons for forgiving me and burdening himself with any amount of blame that he should have been casting at me. But, I couldn't excuse myself either. Not just because he wanted me to, and nothing could change my own guilt. 

He pierced me with his steel colored eyes for what seemed like forever, both of us in a stubborn stalemate. It was me who faltered, giving in first. I swallowed the emotional lump in my throat and looked away. His breath of relief knocked into my face and he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Can I ask you something?" I began, knowing the time for a change in subject was far overdue.

"Anything." 

I stared at the cuffs keeping me attached to the table. Asking him felt like a betrayal to John and Esther, who had spent every opportunity trying to convince me not to acknowledge the existence of the thirteenth floor, but I had to know. The need to be prepared overwhelmed me. All I could think about to justify my question was that it was better the devil I knew than the one I didn't. So, I shoved my reservations aside and met his gaze. 

"Do you know anything about the thirteenth floor here?"

Robbie frowned, squinting as he searched his memories for information. "I can't think of anything I've heard. Why?"

I mulled around the possibility of telling him my suspicions and everything that had been happening so far, but one look into his concerned expression made my decision for me. I couldn't put any more on his shoulders. He was already working himself to the bone, and the added pressure of the thirteenth floor would exhaust him. And he looked far too energetic and happy again for me to justify that. I couldn't add more to his already loaded plate.

"No reason. I just saw that it wasn't listed on the sign out front," I lied, shrugging in what I hoped was a nonchalant manner. Power snickered at my lame attempt at lying.

He nodded, smirking from one side of his mouth. "A lot of buildings are like that. It's bad luck or something to have a thirteenth floor, so most big buildings like this skip it. Kinda weird, having a superstitious mental asylum."

The smile I offered felt weak and hollow, but he didn't seem to notice. In fact, his face lit up and he leaned forward, excitement suddenly flooding off him toward me. It'd been a while since I'd seen him so animated and the sight transformed my grin into something genuine and warm.

"I almost forgot!" he started, whispering as if we were conspiring. "I've been visiting John Kingwood a lot lately. What do you think about him?"

"He's a good guy. I like him a lot. Why do you ask?" I replied, twisting my fingers together as he ate up my response. My teeth pressed into my lower lip as curiosity over his odd behavior overtook me. Even Power perked up, cocking her head to the side like an interested puppy at his giddiness.

A smug expression took over him and he pushed himself even closer to my face, nearly climbing on top of the table in the process. The orderly standing guard watched the interaction with suspicious eyes, his lip curled in disgust at Robbie's almost comical animation. 

"How much do you like him? Enough to be with him?"

My eyes widened as liquid lava glowed beneath the skin on my face and ears. "What?!"

Robbie laughed, sitting back down in his seat with a loud clank when all four feet on his chair met the ground again. "He's asked my permission to court you when you all get out of here. He's smitten, Kate! I needed to make sure you liked him back and he wasn't some crazy stalking nutter before I gave him an answer, though. So, can I give him my blessing?" 

Everything in the room halted as my pulse skipped over itself. Then, as if in fast forward, the walls spun around me. My mouth fell open as Robbie chuckled at my response.

"What? Why-why would he ask you? You're sure he asked you that, and not something less... committed?" I blabbered, shock setting in as the weight of what that meant settled in the bottom of my stomach. Courting? As in, the step before marriage? I knew we had something, but I hadn't dared hope for anything more than that. Did he truly feel that much for me? Was I in the realm of possibility for something so permanent to him?

Robbie slapped a hand to his chest, feigning hurt. "I'm your patriarch, Kate. Dad's long dead, and there's no one else. Of course he asked me! And, do you think I'd mistake the verbatim phrase, 'Robbie, I'd like to court Kate, with your permission'?" 

Bewildered, I stared at him in open speechlessness. He rolled his eyes and smirked at me yet again. "Don't look so surprised. The guy created a whole circus for you in an underground cave, and even orchestrated the plan to get you out to it. I have no doubts he'll take care of you. I just want to make sure you'll be happy with it." 

Stupid, caveman-like sounds spurted from my lips as I blinked and tried to come up with some intelligent reply.

"Nod for 'yes', shake for 'no'," he prompted, laughter dancing in his eyes as he made fun of my stupor.

For six long months, we'd made it clear we cared about each other, but I'd never looked any further into it. I didn't have the luxury, and hoping he felt something more for me had seemed ludicrous. How could someone as good as him want someone as flawed and cracked as me? The fact that he did want more...

John wanted me.

Unable to form the syllables required for words, I nodded.