The Things We Bury - Part 2: No Big Apocalypse [Completed]

Chapter 1: Run With You (Parts 7 & 8 of 8)

Another night had closed. The lights were out and only the soft illumination of a few electronic indicators prevented total darkness. Behind the whirring of the constant fan, Amy could hear the subtle mechanical shiver of the camera in the ceiling being adjusted.

In the blur of a thousand days of sameness, ritual was everything. Before sleep, Amy always thought of her family.

I hope Katie smartens up and stops looking for perfection so she can be happy, Amy started. Then she went through the others: R.J., Barbara, Emily and Aaron, Dr. Eun, Maxwell, Lindsey, Sok, Colin, and even Liz. She spent a thought and a small wish on each of them in something akin to prayer.

Prayer had been something she knew as a child, but it was forgotten now, just like the people that had taught it to her. That first family were like characters on a TV show she hadn't watched in a long time. Only the guilt made them seem real anymore. Only the pain and self-incrimination gave those hazy people a depth beyond video screen projections.

Amy didn't think of her wishes as prayer. Prayer required a god. Amy wasn't entirely sure one existed, but if there was a God, they were on opposite sides. Devils didn't pray. And what was she if not a devil?

These silent thoughts were her way of holding each of her friends in her heart. Although, if she were more honest with herself, she would have made the link between this ritual and something Eun had said to her back in the early days of their therapy. The doctor had told her about how narcissists never thought of anyone but themselves. It had been part of a discussion about personality disorders common among killers. Eun was trying her intellectual approach and showing Amy how normal she was in comparison.  She was meant to see the differences but ended up focusing on the similarities.

Now every night, Amy thought of the people in her life as though it could magically ward off the cold blooded killer inside of her.

When her list was complete, she rolled over and closed her eyes and tried to shut out the world. But it never stopped.

Her ears and nose drew a picture of the room around her, never letting it fade away. She could smell the candy hidden her drawer, the fabric softener on her clothes, the lingering scent of salmon from the diner tray removed hours ago. She could hear all the machines in her room. Even turned off, they made noise. The electricity flowing through wires was a constant trickling like a nearby stream.

Every object stood out in her mind's eye as though through the power of echolocation. If anything was disturbed or if anyone entered, she would know about it instantly. But nothing ever moved and no one ever came in at this time of night.

Amy wrapped her arms around her midsection, clutching herself in a tight hug. She thought of her drawings. The hundreds upon hundreds of pictures she had saved up on pads and in sketch books. Some were of the room and her family here. These she always did in black and white. But the outside world took up most of her time. She drew these images from memory and things she saw in movies and more often than not from her fantasies. She drew deep forests, lush woodlands, lakes, sun and sky, and rainbows. After she made an outline of these wonderful things, she filled them with every vibrant color she could. With colored pencils, crayons, and pastels, Amy created explosive realities, rioting on the pages.

Drifting off to sleep, Amy flipped through these pictures in her mind. Her memory was remarkable in its accuracy, recalling every line and smudge, but the colors were all gone. There was nothing left on those pages but gray.

***

Reeling through the door, Maxwell was faced with the sterility of the hotel room. The beige walls and bed covers reflected his desperation back at him like an angry echo.