Falling for a Psycho

Chapter Eight

“She bit you? How?” Malcolm says, during a breakfast f sausage, eggs, toast, a fruit cup and orange juice. I rub the bandage on my arm, the area around the bite still tender to the touch.

“I went in her cell to talk to her and she bit me,” I say, taking a bite of the soggy eggs.

“You went in her cell? How did you come out alive? No one has ever survived confronting mental Marilyn without prior training. Can we see the bite?” Toby asks. I shrug my shoulders and peel the bandage back revealing the large bite mark on my left arm. I place my arm on the table.

“Behold, the bite of mental Marilyn,” I say. The boys stare at it in awe.

“Dude. She got you good. Did it bleed?” Evan asks. I nod.

“It was bleeding for a while. Marilyn ingested some of my blood too,” I say, covering the bite mark on my arm again.

“That is awesome!” Everett says. “Hey. We’re going to the library. Wanna come?”

“Sure,” I say. I take my tray to the trash and follow the boys to the library, passing Marilyn’s cell. She’s screaming and cursing loudly.

“It’s that time of year again,” Toby says, as we walk out of the building through the double doors.

“What’s going on?” I ask. The boys look back at me.

“Every year at this time, she has extensive medical testing done. It’s to check for illnesses as well as to keep her record up to date,” Evan says.

“So, for about two days, doctors draw Marilyn’s blood and stuff like that. They can’t sedate her because it’ll affect the tests. She also has urine samples taken, CT scans, X-rays, MRI’s and a shit ton of others. Of course she hates it. It’s a full battery of tests. They also do lots of psychological tests on her. They’re all done on site,” Everett says. We enter the library and go up the stairs to the computers.

“It’s also the time of year where the most doctors, guards, and other people get hurt. Mental Marilyn gets pissed as can be, and gets violent. She bites, thrashes, kicks, and even spits. Isn’t she pleasant?” Toby says. I take a seat on a bean bag chair.

“Mental Marilyn says that she enjoyed killing her parents,” I whisper.

“Of course she did. She’s a psychopath. Psychopaths by definition lack all empathy and feel absolutely nothing during the act of killing,” Everett says, showing me a dictionary entry about psychopaths.

“She’s as hot as can be. What I’d give to date her,” Toby says. He looks at the computer. I don’t want to tell the boys about what I want to tell Marilyn.

I can’t really focus on what I have to do. I don’t have much to do since its Sunday, but I do call my mom. She answers, and she’s at work.

“This is Juliette Watson. How may I help you?” Mom answers. That’s how she answers her work phone.

“Hey, mom,” I say. I lean against the wall, and mess with the bandage.

“Oh hi, Donovan! How are you today, honey?” Mom asks.

“I’m okay. I was just bored and I figured I’d give you a call,” I say, leaning against the wall.

“Okay. Well, how are you adjusting?” Mom asks me.

“I’m adjusting well, I guess. I’m doing okay in my classes,” I say.

“I’m glad. Your father and I miss you a lot. We went and saw your dad’s family yesterday. Your aunt Alexa is having a baby so you’ll have a new cousin in a mere eight months. That’s really all that’s going on with us. How about you? Anything interesting going on?” Mom asks. I’m not going to tell her about Marilyn, because she’ll freak out and demand that I come home.