Everybody Lies

Chapter 3: Close Encounters of the Blond Kind

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Zexion woke with a terrible jerk. It was a minute before his mind caught up with his senses; a moment before he realized that his chest was fluttering in fear of a danger that was no longer present, the he was not being tossed and beaten and broken, but that the only pain he was experiencing was the throbbing of his head, and the ache of his chest as his heart beat violently against his sore ribs. He was not trapped in a whirlpool of icy water: he was laying, shaking and sweating and gasping on a soft bed in a dark, cool hospital room. He rolled onto his back, staring wild-eyed around his room, clutching his sheets tight around him, before his panic faded slightly and he accepted that he was safe, that there was nothing there to hurt him.
He closed his eyes, feeling cold sweat run down his forehead, soaking through his bandages and stinging the cuts underneath. He took a few calming breaths. It was just a dream… just a dream… it was nothing… right? But the waves…those crushing waves had felt so real… the feeling of being broken like that horribly familiar to him. He tried hard to tell himself that it didn’t mean anything; it was coincidence, nothing more. His eyes fluttered open and he glanced at the window; the sun had begun to sink out of sight and a strip of pale yellow-orange light filtered through a crack in the curtains, lying across the floor like a glowing scar.
Zexion raised a shaking hand to his forehead, brushing the sweat-soaked wisps of blue hair out of his eyes. He lowered his arm and rested the back of his hand over his eyes; he felt feverish, and his hand felt wonderfully like a frozen pack of ice against his burning skin. He stayed like that for a while, until his heart fell into a calmer, though still uneasy, rhythm, his nerves began tingled with tense energy instead of full panic, and all the cold had been leeched out of his hand, before he lowered his arm to his side again. He felt calmer now, although still a little shaken. Once again, he ignored the pain in his chest and forced himself to sit up.
His chest immediately resumed its dull throbbing, but it was his stomach that was calling for his attention. Zexion remembered that he hadn’t eaten since he had arrived at the hospital, or for a day before that. He sighed and slipped out of bed; he wasn’t about to trust the nurses to bring him food; he’d have to go find it for himself. Zexion stumbled a little as he made his way to the door; his legs were aching but not badly hurt, although they were slightly stiff from sleeping so long.
He pulled the door open and hesitated. The hospital’s food was disgusting, if he remembered correctly, but he had seen a vending machine or two around, and he supposed he couldn’t go wrong there. He turned and limped back to the bedside table and riffled through the pile of things he had had on him when he was brought to the hospital: his cell phone, his keys, his clothes (they had changed him into a hospital gown which, mercifully, was not the kind that let you see into the back) and lastly, his wallet. He dug it out of his pant’s pocket and turned to the door, only to have his newly calm heart bound into his throat; his heart skipped a beat and he felt his whole body freeze.
         It only lasted a second. Something small and quick, fleeting as the flickering light of a firefly, had darted past the open door, and for a moment more its shadow, long and quivering, appeared on the wall facing Zexion’s open door.
And suddenly Zexion was facing a closed, heavy oak door, listening to heavy footfalls on the other side. They were coming closer, and the shadow of something huge poured into the room from under the crack in the door, gliding smoothly, reaching towards him… Zexion was small and crouched on the floor, staring upwards through a haze of panic as the door opened and he saw, standing there, silhouetted against the light from the hall, something huge, something that seemed to be made from solid shadows… and Zexion knew that it was coming in, that the shadow was coming to take away the light; it was a darkness so thick it could have blotted out the sun…he knew it would descend into his room and engulf him… there was nothing he could do…
        Zexion flinched, and he was back, staring at the open door and watching the shadow disappear as whatever it was got farther away…and he wasn’t hearing huge, heavy footsteps echoing down the hall. No, the footsteps fading away were soft, quick and light, slapping the floor in a way that told Zexion that they were barefoot… like a child would be.
        Zexion hesitated, then, moving swiftly and with his heart still throbbing in his throat, he made his way across the room and leaned out of the door to peer down the hallway. At the end of the hall he saw a flash of something white and yellow before the child turned a corner and vanished again. Zexion didn’t know what was making him so curious, but as hurried down the hall to follow, he reflected that this whole situation was giving him a strange feeling, and for whatever reason, he thought that he was suppose to keep following.
       He turned the corner into a second hallway, dimly lit and growing darker as the sun sank lower in the sky, and picked up his pace when he saw the hall was empty. Dark, unused rooms slid past on either side of him, but Zexion kept his eyes on the end of the hall, nervous, for whatever reason, at the thought of having lost his quarry. As he reached the end of the hallway, he slowed, listening hard and realizing that there were no footsteps except his own echoing off the walls. He reached the end of the hallway and glanced around the corners into the adjacent hall.  
        Down the hall to his left, something small was being bathed in golden light from the window behind and the bulbs overhead. Her pure white dress reflected the light, making her whole body seem to glow; it was a young girl with long, flowing yellow hair, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a notebook propped open on her knees. She stared sweetly into a window set into the wall in front of her. Zexion crept forward carefully; he had never been down this hallway before. After a few steps closer, he realized that this must be the children’s ward, as the window showed the inside of what must have been a playroom. At the moment, the room was empty.
        Zexion looked down at the girl, who didn’t seem to realize that he was there, and noticed that she had a pencil held loosely in her hand, and that she was sketching the room before her. He stepped closer and tilted his head, trying to get a better look at the drawing, but he had apparently taken one step too close. The girl looked up, and her clear blue eyes widened in fear at once. She jumped to her feet, her sketchbook and pencil clattering to the floor, turned on her heels, and ran.
        Zexion opened his mouth, “W-“, but stopped himself; she was already too far away, and she probably wouldn’t listen anyways. He looked after her guiltily, then leaned down and scooped up her book before racing down the hall after her. Again, it didn’t seem the girl knew that Zexion was following her, because she never looked back over her shoulder as she made her way down three more hallways. The girl finally darted into an open doorway, and Zexion stopped a little ways away, panting.
         Zexion had passed through this section of the hospital before, even gone past this very door before, which led into a common room, but he had stopped to look around. From what he had seen, though, he suspected that this particular lounge was used almost exclusively by teen-aged patients, and, given the extent of equipment most of the kids had hooked up, he assumed that the kids there were in for the long-term.  
        He stood in the shadows, still breathing heavily, chewing on his bottom lip. Zexion had had no contact with any other patients during his stays at this hospital. For one, he had had no desire whatsoever to get chummy with anybody, although he had, unintentionally, become close with some of the staff. Second, he was normally worse off than he was this visit, and so kept to his room most of the time. Still, it was just a quick visit, right? Just go in, give the girl the book, maybe say sorry for scaring her, then split. Easy. Zexion lifted his chin and marched to the doorway. Then he stopped. He had never seen a room in the hospital look so…alive.
         There were kids everywhere, most of them Zexion’s age, some of them looked as young as 10. Kids in wheelchairs, kids with respirators, kids with IV’s hooked to their arms, kids with bruises, abrasions, bandages, with pale skin and dark circles under their eyes were talking and laughing and for all intents and purposes, acting like normal, happy children. Some people were clumped around low tables, playing cards or looking at magazines, people lounged on squishy arm chairs and were talking with friends; a large group in the corner was grouped around a large TV that was playing the show House. Zexion just stood in the doorway and stared. Maybe he was wrong, and these kids weren’t there for the long-term. If they were, they wouldn’t be looking so happy. There wouldn’t be any laughter in that room had these kids been seriously sick… right? How could children who had such miserable lives be laughing like that, be acting so… happy?
        Out of the corner of his eye Zexion saw the blond girl from before. She was trotting up to a boy with spiky, dirty-blond hair who was sitting in a wheelchair; he had a kind face which lit up when he saw the girl; he grinned at her, then lifted her by her arms to sit in his lap. The boy to whom he had been speaking reached over and ruffled the girl’s hair; his hair was the same yellow color as the girl’s, but his was short and spiked off to one side. The second boy looked up, and Zexion saw the smile slid off of his face, and the boy narrowed his eyes at him. The first boy saw his friend’s face and also looked up, but his expression was that of innocent curiosity.
        Zexion seemed to freeze, unsure of what to do. Then a voice nearby made him jump.
        “Can I help you?” It was a nurse with short dark hair, whom Zexion had never seen.
“Erm…” Zexion began awkwardly, “that girl… over there. She, er, dropped this earlier… and I thought… thought she might…” He gestured towards the book in his hands and let his voice trail away.
“Oh!” the nurse said, reaching for the sketchbook, “Oh, thank you so much! She would be devastated if she lost this, I don’t think I’ve ever seen her without it!” She smiled kindly and Zexion returned the smile awkwardly, allowed her to slip the book from his hands.
The woman looked down at Zexion with a soft expression; he tensed immediately and looked away, though he was careful to keep his gaze away from the two blond boys, who he suspected were still staring at him.
“You know,” She said, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around before. What’s your name? Which ward…?”
“You know…” Zexion cut here off, mumbling, “… I- ah – I think I should get going… you know… getting late…” He once again let his voice trail away and he backed through the doorway. As he turned to hurry away, his eyes grazed over the spot where the three blonds were sitting: the boy with yellow-blond hair was deep in conversation again, and the girl was snuggled into the other boy’s chest, looking peaceful. The other boy, however, the one with the dirty-blond hair, sitting in a wheelchair, still had his gaze focused on Zexion, looking at him with his head tilted to one side, as if he were a puzzle. Careful not to lock eyes, Zexion turned and hustled out of view of the doorway.
          And although the blond’s curious gaze could only follow Zexion until he was out of sight, the uneasy feeling it gave him stuck to him as he made his way back to the room and into his bed, and lingered for a long time afterwards.


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