Falling for a Psycho

Chapter Five

Never underestimate the stupidity of six teenage boys in an insane asylum.

We’re walking down the hall. It’s midnight. The boys are all excited, and I’m just lagging behind, wishing I didn’t agree to this.

When we reach Marilyn’s room, she’s awake. She’s sitting in the corner across from the door, looking like she’s thinking about something. The guards are not at their usual place, again. They must be horrible guards. They aren’t doing their job.

“Guys, we shouldn’t do this,” I say. The guys laugh at me for the second time today, and they all crowd around Marilyn’s room. Everett peers into her cell, and she spots him. She struggles to stand up, but when she does, after about five minutes, she hops over to the door.

“Get. Away. From. The. Fucking. Door,” She yells.

“No, mental Marilyn,” Evan says. She slams into the door.

“Shut up now. I will kill you. I am not fucking with you. I’ve done it before. Get away,” Marilyn says, her voice almost a growl. I notice that there’s no sympathy or life in her eyes. She just looks blank. That’s a sure sign that she’s psychopath. She doesn’t show any emotion, though her voice is teeming with anger, hate, and disgust.

“You can’t do shit, girl,” Chris says. In response, Marilyn puts her hands on the door. She got out of the straitjacket. How’d she do that?

“Oh yeah? How much do you want to bet that I can get out of this cell? Oh, wait. Nothing. You’ll be dead. I’ll kill you if you don’t leave me alone. I promise,” Marilyn says. I back up. I have a feeling that she’s going to do something.

“Whatever, mental Marilyn. You’re just a stupid psychopath who no one likes. No one cares about you. The only reason the doctors have kept you alive is because you’re a scientific specimen. You’re a bitch, but you’re smart,” Malcolm says. Marilyn is silent for a moment.

“I’m going to come and mutilate you all in your sleep,” Marilyn threatens. “I’ll make it hurt. I guarantee that. I have a great memory. I’ll remember all of your faces.”

Suddenly, the guards notice us, and all of the guys run. I’m just standing there, frozen. Marilyn is staring directly at me and I’m paralyzed with fear. I’m scared of her. She doesn’t move her gaze from me. Her baby blue, lifeless eyes are locked with mine.

I watch as Marilyn fights the guards when they get into the cell. They’re trying to calm her down. She’s a great fighter. By the time the doctor with a sedative comes in, Marilyn has a large male guard pinned against the floor, her elbow on his sternum, which she’s broken. She’s also only four foot eleven. She’s tiny. The strength she has when she’s that stature is incredible.

The doctor sticks a needle into Marilyn’s left thigh, and within seconds, she’s fast asleep. The guards put a new straitjacket on Marilyn’s limp body, and tell me to go back to my room. I listen.

As I’m walking back to the room, I’m thinking about Marilyn. She must’ve used her toenail to cut the back of the straitjacket. That girl is flexible.

I’m exhausted when I get back to my room. I lie down on the bed, on top of the scratchy sheets, and fall asleep immediately. I have no dreams at all. It’s just dead sleep.

The next day, the incident that happened with Marilyn spreads like wildfire through the institute. I and the other boys get in trouble, and we’re forbidden to go near Marilyn’s room. She blames it all on us, saying that we were tempting Marilyn, and pissing her off, and that’s what caused all of her anger.

I’m still going to go see her. I want to see her. I don’t know why, but I just do.

I’m falling asleep in English class when Everett taps my shoulder.

“Do you want to go see Marilyn? She’s out of her cell. They’re taking her to the local hospital to run some tests. Come on,” Everett says, pulling me out of the classroom. He drags me over to the door, and there’s a large crowd around the door. Marilyn is being led out. She’s in the straitjacket with two guards holding each of her arms. Her size makes her difficult to spot in the crowd. She’s very small. It’s amazing. You wouldn’t expect a girl her size to be a killer.

I feel bad for what the boys did. I think we hurt her. I mean, she doesn’t seem upset, but she could be. I don’t know what she’s thinking. I want to tell her that I’m sorry. I want to tell her that she’s not hated. I don’t hate her. I don’t hate her at all. I’m more fascinated with her than anything. I am scared of her, but there is also that wonder that I have. I wonder what is going on with her. I wonder what goes through the brain of mental Marilyn. I wonder what makes her tick. I’m curious.

 I watch as she’s put in a police car. She seems to not resist. She’s not reacting to anything.

“She’s drugged up so that she stays calm. If she wasn’t, half of the people out in that hallway would be dead. The drugs seem like the only thing that keeps her mood stable. They don’t last long, and the doctors can’t give her too many.

I want to know what she’s thinking. Even though she almost killed us, I want to talk to her. I want to know if she really is as evil as she is made out to be. I know there’s evidence that supports her insanity, but I want to know how she really feels. I’m going to talk to her. I don’t know how I’ll do it. I’ll do it somehow. I will risk my life, but that’s okay. I don’t care. I really want to talk to Marilyn. I want to get to know her. I want to get to know mental Marilyn. I mean, I know what I’ve been told by the boys, but I wonder what she thinks about herself. Maybe she can’t help how she is. I don’t know. I’m not her. I want to know, though. She’d kill me before she’d talk to me, but I just want to know. I don’t care if she tries to kill me.

I care about mental Marilyn.