Falling for a Psycho

Chapter Four

Getting adjusted to sleeping in a bed that the sheets can’t be pulled up is difficult. It’s eleven, which is lights out. I have classes tomorrow, and I’m going to call my mom. I need to let her know I’m adjusting. I’m not going to let her know that I’m steps away from a psychopathic killer’s room. That part isn’t going to be mentioned. Mental Marilyn will not be brought up. The fact that I think she’s hot will not be brought up.

I can’t sleep. I just can’t. So, I get out of the bed that is the most annoying bed in the world, and walk down the hall to the nurse’s station to get some form of a sleep aid. It’s through the set of double doors right next to Marilyn’s room.

As I’m walking down the hall, the voice in my head starts talking.

“Donovan, Marilyn wants out of that cell,” The voice says.

“I’m aware,” I whisper.

“Get her out. She’s a good girl. She doesn’t deserve to be locked up,” The voice continues.

“No. Shut up. She’s a psychopathic killer,” I say. I’m trying to keep my voice down. Everyone is asleep.

“I know she’s a psychopathic killer. She’s useful, Donovan. You could use her help if you want to kill someone. She’s smart,” The voice tells me. I want to hit my head against the wall. I want the voices to go away.

“She’s insane,” I say. “Go away now.”

“Whatever you say, Donovan. I’m just thinking about your happiness,” the voice says. I keep walking, and I’m almost to Marilyn. The voice stops, and the guards are down the hall getting coffee, so I walk up to the door, and peek in the window. Marilyn is fast asleep in the far left corner, her hair sprawled out on the white padding of the floor. She doesn’t look comfortable. Of course she wouldn’t be. She’s wearing a straitjacket, and her bare legs are shackled together at the ankles. Someone taps my shoulder, and I look back. It’s Toby.

“Looking at mental Marilyn, I see,” Toby says. I nod.

“Yeah. Why isn’t she wearing pants?” I ask.

“Suicide and homicide hazard. She can get out of them and I guess somehow find a way to kill someone or herself with them. Don’t worry. She’s wearing panties. I’ve seen her fall asleep with her ass up in the air before. It’s amazing, man,” Toby says.

“If it’s a suicide hazard, then why are we all wearing pants?” I say.

“Because, well, I have no idea. The doctors consider Marilyn at risk, I guess,” Toby says. I look at Marilyn, who has moved from her side to her back. She’s cute when she sleeps.

“We’re all at risk. I could hang myself with my pants right now,” I say, my voice a whisper.

“Yeah, but do you really want to die without pants?” Toby laughs. I nod, and keep looking at Marilyn.

“She doesn’t look comfortable,” I say, leaning against the door.

“She isn’t. Would you be? She’s in a straitjacket and has her ankles shackled. It’s not comfortable. You should see her during the day. It’s difficult because there are guards, but come around lunchtime when she’s her complete, psycho self. She was drugged when you saw her earlier, and she’s asleep now. But come back during the day when she’s awake,” Toby says, scratching his leg with his foot.

“What does she do during the day? It seems a bit boring in there,” I ask.

“Everything. She tries to get out of the straitjacket, and curses at the guards. It’s funny, really. That girl has quite the mouth on her. She uses a lot of the F-word. Sometimes, I’ve seen her just roll around. It looks fun, really. I mean, that’s usually when they inject her with dopamine, which makes her all giddy and stuff. She’s interesting to watch. Except when she finds a way to stand up, and she comes to the door to yell at you. That’s scary,” Toby says.

Suddenly, there’s a loud thump on the door, and it’s Marilyn. She looks pissed. I scream like a little girl.

“Stop looking at me like I’m a fucking dog before I rip your faces off with my fucking bare hands,” Marilyn says through the door. Her voice is pretty high pitched. I make a run for it down the hall, and Toby is laughing so hard that he’s about to pee his pants. The guards run over.

I make it back to my room.

Okay, so Marilyn is scary. Very scary. Since she doesn’t forget anything, she’s going to remember me. She could kill me. She knows my face now. Shit.

I don’t sleep. I can’t. I’m scared. I’ll be honest. I know I wanted to talk to her, but when it’s the middle of the night, and the girl who is scary as hell and has a great memory yells at me, it’s freaky.

At lunch the next day, Toby is telling all of the boys what happened.

“Marilyn scared Donovan and he screamed like a girl,” Toby says, laughing. I look at the hamburger on my plate, and push it away. Ew. It doesn’t look good at all.

“Oh shut it. She’s scary,” I say.

“You should’ve seen her after you ran. She started yelling at me for not going away, and the guard had to go in there and tranquilize her. Let’s go mess with her tonight,” Toby laughs.

“Yeah. Let’s do it,” Evan says. “Midnight. Let’s do it at midnight.”

“Okay. It’s on,” Everett says. They all smile, and I pick at a limp French fry on my tray.

“Do you really think we should be messing with her? I mean, she doesn’t forget things. She will remember our faces. She’ll come kill us,” I say. All of the guys laugh at me, and I sigh.

“She won’t. We’re just having some fun,” Evan says. I agree to it. I know it’s bad, but I do. I want to fit in, okay?

The rest of the day is spent in class, and I can barely focus. I’m exhausted from not sleeping, and I need to pee during Biology, which sucks. I can’t go out in the hall by myself. I’m paranoid. I’m sorry I sound like a wimp, but I am scared. A girl who is a known murderer and is a heartless killer is pissed off at me.

“It’s going to be fun, Donovan,” Evan says, while we’re walking to the cafeteria for dinner. “She can’t do anything.”

“I know, but she’s a murderer. Doesn’t that scare you at all?” I say.

“Nope. Not at all. She’s been here for a while. She won’t do anything. She’s in captivity, remember?” Evan says. I nod, and walk down the other hall. I’m going to call my mom. It’s not because I want to whine to my mommy and ask her if she can come get me. It’s because I miss her.

I stand in line at the phone, and when it’s my turn, I dial my mom’s number. She’s at home now, so maybe I’ll get to talk to my dad too. Hopefully they don’t bring up girls.

“So son, have you met any girls?” Dad asks when he gets to talk to me. I should’ve seen this coming. Don’t bring up Marilyn.

“Yeah, there’s this one girl. Her name is Marilyn. I want to talk to her,” I say. Crap. Crap. Crappity crap.

“That’s great son. Go talk to her,” Dad says. I lean against the wall, and a couple of the nurses are staring at me.

“I will. Okay. I have to go,” I say. We say goodbye, and I hang up, then walk to my room. I always mess things up. I always end up bringing up things I shouldn’t.

I do feel bad about what I’m going to do tonight. I don’t really want to torment Marilyn, and not just because I’m scared of her. I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t want to make her feel bad.

I hope she doesn’t escape and try to kill us. I really hope that she doesn’t react. I hope she’s asleep.