The Fall of Never(102)

Kelly looked at the window. It was sealed shut and presumably had been since forever. Short of a sledgehammer, there was no way of opening the window. Plus, the room was freezing, probably a chilly sixty degrees.

“Kelly Kellow,” she repeated, hoping the name would spark some sort of recollection. But even as the words vacated her mouth, one look into Mouse’s blank eyes assured her that there would be no recollections today, and probably for the remainder of Mouse’s life. Yet Kelly continued nonetheless. “We used to be friends here a long time ago. Kelly Kellow. Do you remember?”

“I’ll help you,” Mouse said, and Kelly felt her heart leap, as if this strange woman somehow understood that she was here for answers, here seeking something, and that yes, yes, she did need help. But then she realized Mouse was still talking about the window and she felt a sudden sinking in the pit of her stomach. “It’s warm and the window sticks,” Mouse went on. “I’ll help you lift it.”

It’s okay, Kelly thought. What would it matter if you remembered me anyway? What would it matter if you had all your senses about you? Was I driven here to see you, to see how you turned out? Jesus Christ, what the hell good does that do me?

Mouse cocked her head to one side like an inquisitive puppy. A pang of grief washed through Kelly and she didn’t think she’d be able to spend another second in this room.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean to bother you. I was…I’m…”

I’m what? Huh? I’m sorry that she turned out this way, that her brain continued to decline after I was released and went about my life on the outside world? Where I can open all the windows I damn well please?

She turned to leave…then stopped, suddenly frozen by one of the drawings taped to the wall. She stared at it in utter disbelief, like someone abruptly confronted with their past life, as the rest of her surroundings faded away into nothingness.

It was a simple drawing done in crayon of a little girl standing in front of a tree. Large, diamond-shaped tears spilled down the girl’s cheeks. A second figure stood in the background, half-hidden behind the tree itself, too indistinct to make out if it was a boy or a girl, or even a human being at all. But what caught Kelly’s attention was what was written on the trunk of the tree, in scrawling red crayon:

K.K. + S.S.

She felt reality suddenly shift, suddenly teeter to one side, and felt a tremendous heat overtake her. Her skin prickled and sweat broke out along her arms, her neck and forehead, droplets running down her ribs from beneath her arms. On unsteady legs, she propelled herself across the room and thrust a finger at the drawing.

“What is this? Mouse, what is this?” Her voice cracked under the strain of fear. “Did you draw this? What is it supposed to be?”

Mouse just studied her face. She didn’t even turn to look at the drawing.

“Is this it? Is this why I’m here? Did I come here to see this, Mouse?”

Her mind was careening. Who’s the crazy one now?

Like a bolt of electricity through her head, an image shocked her mind and sent her conscious thoughts into a spinout. Suddenly, she was not in the tiny white room with Mouse any longer; now, she was in some ill-lit, cavernous room that smelled oddly of cedar and copper and moldy furniture. She was aware of a throbbing red light, of a jumble of plastic forks strewn across the wooden floor…a floor covered in pine needles…

Mouse stood from the bed, her head still cocked. Her movement shook Kelly back to reality. She was breathing heavy. In a fever, Kelly’s tongue worked over the contours of her mouth, which felt like hot dunes of sand.

Mouse was muttering something under her breath: “Simple Simon met a Pie Man going to the fair…Said Simple Simon to the Pie Man, ‘Let me taste your ware’…”

“This picture!” Kelly insisted. “Damn it, Mouse, where did this come from? Who’s in this picture? Is it me? Is it? It is, isn’t it? K.K.—those are my initials, aren’t they?”

Mouse only chanted louder: “Said the Pie Man to Simple Simon, ‘Show me first your penny’…”

“Stop it, Mouse.”

“Said Simple Simon to the Pie Man, ‘Indeed I have not any’…”

“Stop it!” She could feel her heart beating thunderously in her chest, could hear it in her ears.

“Indeed I have not any!”

“Stop!”

“Indeed!” Mouse barked and sprung forward, her tine-like fingers hooked into claws, her eyes suddenly ferocious and startlingly intelligent. Her hands closed around Kelly’s arms, the force of the jolt knocking her off balance and sending them both crashing to the floor. Kelly’s head slammed against the linoleum and oily stars exploded in front of her eyes. She felt Mouse’s bony knees digging into her arms, pinning them to the floor, as the woman straddled her.

And then Kelly was gone again—

(lost in some secret fairy tale world of gingerbread houses and rivers of chocolate and rainbow bridges and marshmallow clouds but the rivers did not run full with chocolate they ran deep with blood and the marshmallow clouds blackened and curled destroyed by fire and the smell of rot clogged the air)

She managed to knock Mouse off her and roll onto her side, dragging herself across the floor to the door. The back of her head throbbed, and as she tried to stand her vision multiplied. In one final effort, she made a leap for the door and grasped the knob with one quavering hand—