Vendetta

15: Rosetta Marsh & Snake Tattoos

       Pete got me a clock exactly two weeks, three days, five minutes, and thirteen seconds ago. I now know why Ms. Therapist-Lady didn't want me to get a clock. She knows that I like to count, obviously. Did I mention that I still don't know this bitch's name? It frustrates me to excessive levels. Her entire office to me is just dark purple with red splotches, really.

       It's especially silent in my cell today. I don't know why I feel that way. I guess in my mind there are different levels of silence. I usually cannot vividly hear the sound of my own breathing in my cell, despite the fact that it is completely quiet in here at all times. Though today I feel as if I can hear my breathing a bit too well. I look at the clock; it's the middle of the afternoon, and Pete hasn't seen me today. Weird. In fact, I haven't had lunch or breakfast today. I'm hungry. "Hey, can I have some food up in here?" I yell at the door, even though it's really no use. I lay down on the ground. All of a sudden, Ms. Therapist-Lady bursts in. Wow, how convenient.

       "Hello, Vendetta." She says. I continue to lay down on the ground and stare at the ceiling. She sits down next to me, her legs criss-crossed. "Wanna chat?" She asks me. Chat? Fuck no I don't want to chat with her. "I think that I have been speaking to you wrongly, Vendetta. I must admit." She says with a sigh. I feel my brow twitch at that. "I think that maybe you want to know about who I am before I start hammering you with more questions. I was thinking that we could do a question for question kind of situation. How does that sound, Vendetta?" She asks me. I like what I hear, so I sit up. "Ask me anything you want." She says to me with a smile. I find it horrendously ironic that I have looked at her, but not at Pete.

     "Okay," I say to her, and see her visibly perk up. "What is your name? And not just your last name, cause I'm not talking to you like a fucking teacher. Your full name." I ask her, bluntly.

       "Watch your language. My name is Rosetta Marsh." She says to me. "Now it's my turn to ask a question. Who was your friend Zara?" She asks. My entire body tenses.

       "She's not my friend and she never was. Next question." I spit. "How old are you anyways?" I ask her.

       "I'm 49." She answers. "I assume based on your age that you were in school, correct?" Rosetta asks.

       "Yes." I respond.

       "What school did you go to?" She asks.

       "Laguardia." I tell her. She looks surprised by that information.

       "Why do you look so surprised?" I ask her.

       "You never struck me as an artist-type person." She responds. Fair enough. "What did you go there for?" She asks me.

     "Vocal music." I tell her.

     "What do you love so much about it?" She asks.

     "It's a distraction." I tell her.

       "Explain that." She says.

       "No." I respond. She seems a bit taken aback by my response, which makes me smirk. "Why are you asking me all of these questions, what does it mean to you?" I grunt.

     "I just want to learn a bit more about you, is all." She smiles. There is a knock at the door. "That's my cue to leave. I enjoyed our conversation today— I hope that we can have more conversations like these in the future." Rosetta says with a smile and walks out of the cell as Pete walks in.

      "You finally started speaking to your therapist, I see." Pete says with a chuckle, closing the door behind him.

       "Her name is Rosetta Marsh." I say to him.