Val was buried in the resident cemetery the following Monday. Her headstone was far grander than Sophia had expected: white marble and engraved with elaborate carvings of roses. There was a small memorial service, attended only by Sophia, Jude, and two people whom Sophia assumed were Val’s parents. The mother would occasionally dab her eyes with a handkerchief, but the father remained stony faced during the service. He even checked his watch a few times. Sophia resisted the urge to run over and knee him in the crotch.
“Through Christ our Lord,” said the preacher, closing his prayer book.
Val’s father went up and shook his hand, while the mother stood nearby murmuring and nodding. Sophia and Jude stared down at the headstone for a few moments.
“It doesn’t suit her,” Jude grumbled.
“Yeah, it’s pretty tacky.”
A twig snapped. Sophia looked up. A bolt of shock tore through her.
“Oh.” Felicity stopped dead, looking equally surprised. Then she laughed softly. “We can’t seem to get rid of each other, can we, honey? Have I missed the service?”
“You…knew Val?”
“Not really. We met years ago. I just wanted to pay my respects. This sort of streamlines things for us though, doesn’t it? We can swing by to see our little friend and then pop over the next minute and say hi to Sybill.”
“That’s…not funny.”
“I wasn’t trying to be.”
“You’re Felicity Reynolds,” Jude said. It sounded like an accusation.
Felicity’s eyes, which had been fixed on Sophia, slowly moved over to him. She smiled. “And you would be?”
“Jude Fitzpatrick.”
“Is that supposed to mean something to me?”
“How did you know Val?”
“I told you. We met a few years ago.”
“Yeah, but how?”
“Anybody ever tell you that you’re a wee bit aggressive, sweetie?”
“Stop it.”
“What?”
“Whatever you’re doing. It’s annoying.”
Felicity’s head tilted to one side, and the smile on her face grew. “You can feel it?”
“Lady, you’re gonna feel a lot worse in about two seconds if---”
He stopped as Val’s parents approached them.
“Thank you for coming,” the mother said gravely. “I’m sure Val would’ve appreciated it.”
“Yes,” the father said, nodding absently. He checked his watch again. “My love, we should go, the last train leaves soon…”
“Yes, dear, of course. Take care, everyone…”
They walked off down the path, their arms entwined. The priest followed them, nodding to Sophia and Jude as he passed.
“They seem real broken up,” Felicity said, her eyes narrowing as she stared after them. “I’m pretty sure my dad would at least squeeze out a few tears. Then again, maybe not. He’s a reptile.”
“They’re already counting all the money they’ll save by not paying for Val to stay here anymore,” Jude said darkly.
“That’s a little cruel, honey. I mean it’s true, but you shouldn’t always say what’s true out loud.”
“I think that’s the only thing you should ever say out loud.”
“What a noble philosophy.”
“Felicity, cut the shit,” Sophia snapped. “We’re not here to fight.”
“Fair enough.” Felicity winked at Jude as she ambled towards Val’s headstone. She stared down at it for a minute, then shook her head. “How garish. I guess her folks have to convince themselves they cared just a little, eh?”
“I’m going,” Jude said ungraciously. He turned and started to walk down the path.
“See you,” Sophia said to Felicity. She hurried after Jude, tugging at his sleeve when she finally caught up with him. “Hey, slow down.”
“I just need to put as much space between me and her as possible.”
“How do you know Felicity?”
“She’s always been a bit of a shit to me. When I was younger, she’d use her power on me and get me all worked up until my own ability would go haywire. I would disappear and reappear all day long. It was exhausting and it made me feel sick. But she thought it was funny. Anyway, I’m surprised you could stand to even talk to her. Wasn’t she involved in your mom’s death?”
“Yeah,” Sophia said slowly. “And believe me, every shitty thought you have about her is justified. But lately I…I dunno. It’s such a waste of energy being mad at someone like her.”
“Someone like her?” he repeated, frowning.
“Yeah. Someone who’s already so miserable.”
“Miserable? She practically owns this fucking place. I’m sure she’ll inherit it once her old man goes. Jesus, there’s a thought. I’ll have to make sure I’m dead or at least mortally wounded by then…”
Sophia was silent as he ranted. She thought about the flashes of Felicity that she’d seen in the memories of the others: the child staring forlornly through the barred window, the frightened girl helping Val escape the labyrinth of hallways. That lost child still stared out of Felicity’s eyes. It was hard to hate her anymore.
***
As the days passed, Val’s death became a heavy chain around Sophia’s heart. She spent more than a few restless nights dreaming of her friend’s face. She rarely had that awful dream about the three blurry faces anymore, but it had been replaced by something equally unsettling: she was in a blank white space, all alone, and Val was standing in the distance. She would run towards her, but no matter how long or fast she ran, she never got any closer. The grief grew suffocating; it became almost a bodily necessity to release it, and she found herself turning once more to her therapy journal. When she opened it for the first time in months, she saw the letter she’d penned to Sybill feverishly scrawled upon the first page. She turned to a new one and began to write.
Dear Val,,
today was family day. i was surprised to get a visit from Reynolds. he came up to the meadow lobby and sat next to me and asked how i was doing. what a fucking loaded question that’s become. i lied and said fine and he didn’t look like he bought it but he was nice enough not to push me. we got to reminiscing about mom, which was a topic I was surprisingly okay with discussing. he has a lot of stories about her. i wonder why i never saw more of him growing up. they seemed like really good friends. he tells me i look just like her except for my hands. “Evie’s were rather thin and petite,” he said. i’m not sure how to take that. does that mean mine are big and fat? Haha. but I like hearing things like that. it makes mom feel close again.
Jude’s dad came to see him too. i watched Jude walk him around the room and point at things. i wonder if he was giving him a tour. “and here on the mantle, father, is a shitty vase full of dead lawn scraps from outside.” “‘wonderful. so glad to see where my money is going, son.” i don’t know why Hazel thought bringing in evergreen branches would make things better. it just makes the whole place smell like a cheap christmas candle. it makes my eyes water. i remember the year my mom finally gave up and forked it over for a fake tree. it smelled like plastic and when me and Sybill pointed that out she told us to shut the hell up and drink our egg nog. god i miss her so much sometimes. i miss you too Val. i’m glad you were all zen about your death and everything but i can’t be so blasé about it. i miss you so much. i don’t have anywhere to put this pain, not really. it’s like a big hole has opened up in my chest, and it just keeps pulling more of me inside it.
Dear Val,
i don’t go to the cafeteria anymore for meals. why bother? i didn’t know anybody but you and Jude rarely came to eat with us anyway. i’m not sure when he takes his meals these days, but it’s not with me. i’ve been sneaking out to the cemetery. Larry will rue the day he showed me how to get there. the garden is beautiful these days and i wish you were here to see it, rather than buried under it. i don’t see much of Jude. he must visit you on his own time. i don’t see much of him anywhere, actually. he’s stopped coming to the meadow lobby during free period. i think it’s just too painful for us to be around each other now, because we can both sense what’s missing. i love you and miss you.
Dear Val,
Larry caught me in the garden today but said he wouldn’t tell anyone as long as i promised not to stay too long, and made sure i didn’t skip any mastery sessions or meditations in the sanctuary. maybe he figures i need a fucking break because everyone around me is always fucking dying. anyway, i’m glad he let me stay. it’s the only place where i don’t feel stifled. time doesn’t seem to matter there. everything is so quiet and the pain inside me grows stagnant, and for a second---just a second---i feel like myself again.
Dear Val,
nasty slew of nightmares lately. i haven’t been sleeping well. i told Hazel about it in therapy and she gave me some sleeping pills but i’m afraid to take them. i’ve been really out of it in my mastery sessions. Clara ripped me a new one the other day for being lazy and “wasting time she could be spending on someone who gives a damn.” when I apologized and said it was because i wasn’t sleeping, she just said, “i believe Hazel is paid to care about those things. I’m not. try again.” her face puckered up in that awful way that always makes her look like a butthole. it’s fitting---though an insulting thing to say about any anus. i’d like to make a blanket apology to them here and now.
snowing a lot today. i went out and hurled some snowballs at a couple of defenseless squirrels. it felt good.
Dear Val,
i’ve had three dreams now of a purple flowered room. am I just dreaming about the memories i’ve absorbed, or was I taken there before? it seemed so vivid. the dreams are always just of me sitting on the bed and staring at that purple wallpaper. i don’t look unhappy or scared, just bored. i wish i could ask someone about it. i wish mom was here to tell me about---everything. Reynolds surprised me today by visiting my room and giving me an old notebook of hers. it has all these theorems and notes about her work. most of it makes no sense but looking at her handwriting makes me feel so comforted that i’ve started sleeping with it under my pillow. Reynolds said there’s a whole box of her stuff he got from the house after she died. he said he’ll show it to me someday.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Oh and Jude came to visit me today in the lobby. we didn’t say much, but we left your seat by the fire open.
Dear Val,
there were a couple women wandering around the lobby today who looked like hitmen (ladies?) or something, i swear. one was in a pencil skirt and stiff black blazer, with black sunglasses, her blonde hair chopped off at the chin. the other looked older, her dark hair streaked with grey, and she was wearing a tan pantsuit. the blonde talked to Hazel for a while at the front desk in the lobby, while the older one strolled around talking to residents at random. they were there for about twenty minutes before they were finally led out of the room by Larry. “who were those women?” i asked Hazel as soon as they were gone. “oh nobody,” she said with an unconvincing smile plastered on her face. “Just the plumbers.” “really? Those women were here to fix the shitter?” i said. “they didn’t look dressed for the job.” “go sit over there, Sophia,” Hazel said with a sudden chill in her voice. she turned away from me and made a show of shuffling papers, so i let it drop. i wonder if those women are going to all the floors or if they were just scoping out mine? maybe they really were just here for the shitter.
Dear Val,
my projection has gotten really good these days. i’ve been doing it every night for as long as i can because i’m afraid to sleep anymore, and i don’t wanna brag, Val, but it’s really paid off. i can do it now without breaking a sweat---though i still get a little bit of a headache. i’ve also discovered a neat new trick. I can make my projections talk now. i mean, not really, but i can project thoughts into a person’s mind while they’re looking at the projection (it’s like i open a channel from my consciousness to theirs, i’m not sure how that can work and obviously i can't ask anyone about it because i’m not supposed to even be doing this, but it’s super cool), so it’s like they’re talking to a cool ass hologram or something. at least, that’s what I’ve gathered from what Jude has said. he’s the only person i’ve officially practiced on, but if i can do it with him i don’t see why it wouldn’t work with anyone else. the first time we did it, i projected into his room long after it was lights out so we wouldn’t get caught. i used Hazel’s likeness, and i tried to telepathically ask him how it looked. on the first few tries I got nothing back. but then on the third I thought I caught a whisper of his telepathic answer. after a few more tries, I got all of it: “yeah, it’s working. now shut up and let me go to sleep.” we’ve done it a few other times since then and i’m pretty smug about my progress. you would have been so pumped, and we would’ve stayed up too late talking all the time.
Jude keeps bugging me to practice recollection reparation on him. i told him he was a fucking maniac and to drop it. i know he just wants to help his brother, but i don’t think he gets how much i could fuck his brain up. i wonder if he even cares at this point. i feel like when i’m in pain i curl inward, whereas Jude’s pain gels into anger and indifference. it worries me. i hope he doesn’t do something stupid. But sometimes i forget how much he’s lost too. i get so wrapped up in my own head that i forget the fact that his parents abandoned him here, that his brother is a vegetable, and that his closest friend is dead. he’s just as alone as i am. i wonder if everyone at this place is alone.
Dear Val,
i went up to the lavender ward today on my free period. i got restless and sick of the same old scenery down on my own floor---and also of Hazel shooting me simpering “you-can-talk-to-me-whenever-you-like” looks from across the room. Val, I regret to inform you that your old lobby is an affront to the senses these days. it’s barely spring yet but the staff here has jumped the gun and everything is decked out in the gaudiest way you can imagine: plastic bumblebees dangling from the ceiling, every spare surface covered with lime green cloth, plastic knickknacks of flowers and birds crowding the mantle and the front desk. The whole room looks like the inside of a tacky greeting card. my floor is even worse because Hazel is the one in charge of decorating it and she went for a “magical in the woods” kinda vibe. it looks like the Keebler elves vomited everywhere.
i stood there recovering from the décor for a few seconds before I saw Jude waving me over from across the room. he was sitting on the window seat. “i was just about to throw myself out this window,” he said, gesturing at the glass. “care to join me?” “it looks awful in here,” i said, sitting next to him. “did you see the mold-green cupcakes? they brought a bunch of trays out earlier and we all had to join hands and sing before taking one.” “you sang?” i said, unable to restrain a grin. “hell no. i stole a cupcake while everybody else was.” then he asked me how my projection was going. i told him i was taking a break for a bit, and then i asked him if he’d seen any weird visitors lately, and he said yes actually, two weird chicks stalking the lobby the other day looking like they were sniffing out a serial killer. i told him I’d seen them too, and we swapped theories about who they might be. the most realistic idea was that maybe they were cops---or lawyers. and neither option really boded all that well, so we let it drop. then i asked about Simon---and then we were silent.
after a few minutes i noticed our hands had found each other; he stroked my knuckles with his thumb as he stared across the room at a horse-faced girl who was meticulously going through the candy bowl full of green jellybeans. we never talk much about you, Val. i don’t know if we know how. finally, Jude asked me if i still was interested in getting books about Project Camilla from the third floor. it took me a second to remember what he was talking about. “yeah, eventually,” i said, a little taken aback. “i just figured now wasn’t the time.” “no time like the present,” he said. i looked at him, frowning, and he leaned forward and mumbled: “i could use the distraction.” i swallowed a lump in my throat and nodded. “i get that.” “just give me a call when you can,” he said, tapping the side of his head and grinning. “in that special way of yours.” i promised i would and stood up to go, releasing his hand. i walked back to my room, feeling the sting of my empty palm. i wish i could’ve sat there longer. but it’s hard being around Jude these days for a long period of time. because when we’re together, it just reminds me of who’s missing.
Dear Val,
please kill me. Hazel found out i’ve been journaling and her glee was unbearable. “let me know if you need another, hmm?” she chirped, bouncing on her big ass---sorry but it’s true, that thing looks like someone glued a couple of watermelons together--- and clapping her hands together. “i’m fine with just the one,” i grunted. she just sat there flashing me her mouthful of sugar cube teeth. i wonder if my urge to punch her in the face is entirely rational. Like, okay, maybe it’s a bit overboard. but she’s so annoying. Jude says it’s because she talks AT you and not TO you. i think she talks DOWN to you. whatever it is, all i do know is that the single hour i spend with her in therapy every day feels like a fucking year.
i went out to the garden again today. i saw a rose that was encrusted with frost and staring at it put me in a meditative mindset, like if I focused on this single spot of beauty, the chaos inside me would freeze for just a moment.
Dee calls those kinds of moments “quieting the monkey mind.” my “sits” in the Sanctum lately have been pretty exhausting. every time i close my eyes and try to count my breaths, my mind immediately begins to scream. every crevice is filled with images of Sybill and Mom and you. it’s like pieces of the same corpse keep floating up from the bottom of a lake, popping up on the black surface, scattering ripples that seem to go on forever. so much grief and anger bubbles up inside me that on more than one occasion, i’ve had to gnash my teeth together and stick my fist in my mouth to prevent myself from screaming with rage. Dee has noticed (she probably could hear me grunting from across the room) and told me i would never heal with that attitude. so i asked her how long this whole letting go thing should take. she said i had to learn to forgive. i asked how long THAT should take. she just smiled at me---she has a smile that makes her look higher than a kite---and said if i had to ask, that meant i hadn’t even started. that was probably a very zen answer, but i couldn’t help but feel like she was just blowing smoke out her ass. Hazel says we don’t forgive for other people; we forgive for ourselves. that’s why you can forgive someone without them even apologizing or knowing about it. you have to choose to do that for yourself. i guess i haven’t chosen yet. or you know, maybe Hazel is full of shit.
Dear Val,
those women came by again today; this time i saw them talking outside the cafeteria to Reynolds. i was passing in the hall and must’ve stopped and stared too long, because suddenly the doctor looked up and saw me. the two women turned and looked at me too. i felt my ears getting hot. “carry on, Sophia,” said Reynolds. i hurried past them, ducking my head. one of the women said something and i heard Reynolds say, “No one, just one of our residents, a sweet girl really…”
those women are definitely cops. as I went by, one of them put her hand on her hip, drawing back the hem of her blazer, and i saw the gleam of a silver badge. is this about the purple room or something else? should I try to talk to them? then again, what would I even say? “excuse me officers, I suspect this institute is guilty of medical malpractice and murder.” “why, what’s your evidence, young lady?” “oh, it’s rock solid, don’t worry. i eat memories and i read my friend’s mind and saw some sketchy things in there.” yeah, that’d hold up in a court of law. and totally not get my ass committed.
Dear Val,
they brought Simon to my mastery session yesterday. it took me a second to realize it was him lying on the bed. immediately I felt all these hard balls of dread gather in my chest and then drop into the pit of my gut. i turned to Clara and said, “i’m not comfortable working on this kid again.” “if you don’t take him, you’ll get nothing,” Clara said, her smile vanishing. “fine,” i said, shrugging. “i’ll fast tonight. It’s around Lent anyway.” she pursed her lips and pointed to the door. i walked out without another word. of course i regretted my decision come nighttime, when my stomach started to growl.
can you travel around at all as a spirit, Val? Sometimes i think i can feel you standing over me when i write these entries. Maybe i’m just missing you too much and imagining stuff.
Dear Val,
i’ve discovered another new ability! very much by accident. for a change. clara was a huge bitch today and when i got back from my mastery sessions, i sat down on my head and glared at my bookshelf for a while. i was waiting to cool down, and as i sat there entertaining thoughts of revenge, my whole bookcase suddenly lifted a few inches off the ground and then fell back down with a crash. when it went over to inspect it, it was pretty undamaged. just a little scratched. so then out of curiosity i turned and looked at one of the pillows on my bed and thought of Clara’s face and how marvelous it would feel to see it crushed beneath a semi-truck. the pillow sprang into the air and flew across the room. after a few seconds, i looked down at the pillow on the floor and thought about it returning to the bed. it obediently rose into the air and floated over. Val, it was awesome. i can’t wait to play around with this.
Dear Val,
i think i can only move objects around when i’m mad or something. i keep trying to make stuff float again and it only works when i’m pissed off. i might be able to do it if i got super focused but anger seems like a short cut, and i guess i definitely have plenty of that. i made my pillows dance through the air today by just thinking about Sybill’s face. the other day i got my desk to fly back because i was annoyed at Hazel. it’s like wielding a cosmic fist or something.
Dear Val,
i saw Jack today. believe it or not he was strolling around the cafeteria like anyone else. as you know, i don’t normally go to the caf anymore but i went today because I was meeting Larry there. he was gonna take me to the cemetery to see you. he still insists on taking me there “officially,” even he knows i go there by myself all the time at night. anyway, i was sitting at a table alone and i looked up and saw Jack. before i could look away or leave, he came strolling over. “hi darling,” he said, draping himself in the seat across from me. i started to get up without answering, but then he said: “i have a question for you. you remember the Coppula brothers, i’m sure? you’re sister beat one of them to death.’’ i didn’t say anything and he went on, smiling (did i ever tell you how red his mouth is? it’s like he’s always drinking blood or something, it’s super creepy). “the other one who had an accident while tracking me and Felicity down. Francis. you were involved in his death right?” “i wasn’t,” i snapped. “i just came to collect his memories after he died.” Jack just looked at me for the longest time. i swear to god it looked like he was trying to decide whether or not he was gonna kill me. then he said: “you saw who killed him?” “who said anyone killed him?” i said, and i got another horrible red-lipped smile. “that’s what ‘had an accident ’ means in Francis’ profession.” he stood up. “thanks for the chat, love. don’t be a stranger now.” he strolled back across the caf towards a stern-looking nurse. i don’t know what he wanted to know, but the fact that he seemed satisfied at the end of that conversation worries me.
Dear Val,
i had a weird and terrifying experience in the library today. i was trying to find a book in one of the aisles and suddenly i heard footsteps behind me. when i turned i saw Felicity standing there, and i could tell right away that something was off about her. one of her eyelids was drooping and she was swaying a little from side to side. “i thought that was you,” she said. her voice was slurred and she was breathing really hard, like she had just run up the steps. “i thought i took care of you, bitch.” i took a few steps away from her, but she moved towards me, her steps uneven and her face twisted with a hatred i had never seen before. “get out, go away.” “Felicity, what’s wrong?” i said. i wondered if i should make break for it because she looked like she was going to strangle me. “it’s all your fault,” she said, panting. “you ruined everything.” i told her i didn’t know what she was talking about, but then she flew at me and began to hit me, screaming. “you fucking bitch! you ruined our lives!” i held my arms up to shield my face from her fists, and then all of a sudden, the rage left her face. she squinted down at me like she was seeing me for the first time. then she let out a high-pitched laugh. “why me? why wasn’t it you instead? Jesus, you look just like her.” there was some shouting and then two nurses came running around the corner. they grabbed Felicity and put her in a headlock, and she didn’t even fight them, she just hung there in their arms like a limp doll. they apologized and said she was having a strong reaction to some new drugs. then they checked me over for cuts and told me to go to the infirmary for a full exam. i didn’t. i went to my room instead.
i thought about what had happened for hours. i remembered what Felicity had said before in the garden about how her parents would fight over my mother. i have an idea in my head, Val. i wish you were here to tell me that i’m being paranoid. because i have the horrible feeling, deep down in my stomach, that it’s more than just an idea, and it makes me feel sick.
i never knew my father. mom told me he died a long time ago. but maybe he’s a lot closer than i ever thought he was. and maybe mom had a really good reason for never letting me meet him.