Sophia woke up earlier than usual that morning. She sat up, pulling her blankets around her in a vain attempt to maintain body heat in the freezing room. The bleak light of dawn leaked in from the high window over her head. Pale rays crawled across the floor and inched up the walls. She wondered why she’d woken up so early. Had she been having another bad dream? She couldn’t remember. Although she’d apparently slept restlessly; she had kicked her socks off and one of her pillows was on the floor. Sophia hopped out of bed and scurried over to the dresser, shivering, to find a new pair of socks. As she rummaged around, something sparkled in the early morning light. She stared down at it, and then felt her heart give a single, throbbing thud. It was her birthstone cross pendant. Mom gave it to her on her thirteenth birthday. Sybill had received one too, hadn’t she? Come to think of it, was it on her when she died? Did they bury her with it?
For some reason, that didn’t sit well with her. She wondered why. What did it matter if the trinket was rotting in the ground along with her sister’s corpse? They were part of an era she was still violently trying to suppress. Good riddance to both.
At least, that’s what she thought she felt. When she saw Larry in the cafeteria later, she found herself asking him what the Institute did with the belongings of residents’ who had passed away.
“They’re usually sent to the families,” he responded. “And if they don’t want them, we just keep them in storage. Why?”
“My sister had some things on her when we got here…I was wondering…”
“Ah, say no more. I can look into it for you.”
“Thanks,” she said awkwardly. After a moment’s hesitation, she asked: “Can I see where she’s buried too?”
“Yeah, of course,” Larry said, smiling. “I’ll you there on your free period today if you want.”
So that’s what they did. She met him in the entrance hall during the afternoon and they strolled off together to see her psychopathic sister’s grave. What do I want to get out of this? Sophia wondered. What’s the point of seeing her now? It’s not like I’m going to forgive her.
“Here we are,” Larry announced, pushing open a side door and leading her out into a garden.
As they walked down a brick path which wound its way between rows of purple bushes, Sophia suddenly realized that even though it was in the middle of winter, this garden was in full bloom. Furthermore, things that normally wouldn’t grow together existed side by side.
“What is this place?” she asked as she rotated in her steps, trying to take everything in at once.
“Nice, isn’t it? Courtesy of Hazel’s power.”
“Hazel?” The idea that someone like Hazel could have such artistic flair surprised her. “She can grow plants?”
“Something like that. Her abilities are part of the same overall classification as mine, though hers are earth rather than water based. That woman could grow a plant on a glacier. She’s very skilled.”
Sophia nodded silently, mesmerized by the abundance of life and color all around her. She didn’t realize until that moment that she’d always linked powers with pain; she had never associated them with beauty before.
They rounded a corner. Larry stopped and gestured at a gravestone situated on the grass beneath a white birch tree. Engraved roughly across the stone surface was her sister’s name. There was no other identifying information, no dates, no sentimental quote. Just a rock with a name on it that nobody in years to come would know. It struck Sophia as grimly hilarious. Despite all of Sybill’s scheming, she’d ended up in the one place she had tried so desperately to avoid, rotting in the earth with strangers.
“I found this in her storage box,” Larry said, coming up to stand next to her. He dropped something into Sophia’s extended palm. A blueish sparkle caught the sun before the object disappeared into her hand. “That was the only thing in there. Were you looking for something in particular, or…?”
“I…” She stared down at the cross pendant, then closed her fist around it and shook her head.
“No. Just this. Thanks.” She looked back at the grave. It was only then that she noticed someone had placed a small bouquet of daises next to it. “Who put those there?”
Larry followed her gaze, then frowned. “I’m not sure. A friend, maybe?”
Sophia was silent. She felt a strange pain in her heart as she stared down at the wilted white petals scattered across the rough stone surface. Sybill hated daisies. She’d claimed they made her nose run.
Sophia remained standing there for the rest of her free period. She clutched the cross pendant so tightly she left an imprint of it in her flesh.
***
She went to the cemetery often after that. Residents weren’t allowed to visit the garden alone, and so she took Larry with her. He didn’t seem to mind. She wondered how much of her story he knew. He never once asked her to talk about any of it---a gesture she greatly appreciated.
The garden, she discovered, changed daily. Sometimes it burst with the vibrant colors of spring; at other times it was filled with fall ferns. There were even times when it was a combination of seasons. There was one particularly enthralling occasion when it had been both winter and summer; the trees were laced with veils of snow, while the ground beneath them was covered in summer flowers. It had been a wonderful sight.
Today the theme was autumn. Golden bushes encircled the perimeter like a ring of flame; thick crimson blossoms spilled with reckless abandon onto the walkway; trees with milky trunks and caps of bronze rustled in the cool breeze sweeping through the sweet-smelling grass. Sophia walked slowly, taking it all in as she ambled after Larry. She was grateful---if only for a second---that beauty like this still existed somewhere in the world.
When they came to Sybill’s plot, Larry stopped so suddenly that Sophia almost ran into him. She craned her neck around his back to see what he was looking at. Her heart plummeted into her shoes.
Felicity Reynolds was sitting cross-legged on the grass.
Something stirred out of the corner of Sophia’s eye and she turned, startled. A woman was sitting on a stone bench several feet away. She was curvy, blonde, and covered in moles.
“Hey, Marla. Nice to see you,” Larry said.
“Larry,” the woman answered with a small smile. She stood up, then nodded towards Felicity and Sophia. “Why don’t we give these two some privacy?”
“Sounds good. Sophia, just holler if you need anything, okay? This garden isn’t that big.”
Larry hurried after the curvy nurse before Sophia could even respond. Felicity laughed softly, her eyes following them as they disappeared behind a flowering shrub.
“The staff here spend more time boning each other than looking after us.” She tucked a gleaming red ribbon of hair behind her ear, then gave Sophia a syrupy smile. “So. Long time no see, honey. How are you adjusting to your new life in this fine establishment?”
“Are we really gonna do this?”
Felicity looked at her silently for a moment. The leaves overhead cast frenzied shadows across her pale face. Then she shrugged.
“I guess not.”
“What are you even doing here, Felicity?”
“I can’t visit my friend?”
“You weren’t special to her. Sybill used you the way she used everyone.”
“Have you come to piss on her grave then?”
“I…came to say goodbye.”
No, that wasn’t quite right, she thought suddenly. She had come to let Sybill go. Until she did, she knew the dreams wouldn’t stop, and the pain that sucked more life from her heart every day wouldn’t end.
“A bit late for that, isn’t it?” Felicity said, yawning. “Six…no, seven months too late. Jesus. Has it really been that long?”
“Are you the one who keeps leaving flowers?” Sophia asked.
“What?” Felicity looked genuinely surprised. “No.”
Who on earth was doing it then? Nobody else at this place had even known Sybill. Was it simply a kind stranger paying homage to the dead?
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“How long have you been coming to visit her?” Sophia asked after a small pause. She sat down on the other side of the tombstone.
“A couple months.”
Another silence. Then: “What do you miss most about her?”
“Her freedom.”
Sophia stared at her, wondering if she had misheard. Felicity turned towards her with a chilling smile that turned her eyes into slits of smoldering green fire.
“I tried to use my power on her a bunch of times, but it was always like rummaging around in an empty sack. There was nothing for me to hold onto. She was free.”
Her tone was tinged with admiration. She went on:
“What about you, sweetie? What do you miss?”
Sophia thought long and hard. Then a series of images flashed through her mind. Towers of glinting lenses, a bright front window, gold rims sparkling in the afternoon sunshine.
“Her glasses,” she said softly.
Felicity raised a thin red eyebrow. “To each their own, I suppose.”
Sophia was silent. She picked at the grass for a long time while the wind whispered through the bushes. Finally there were footsteps, and Marla and Larry came around the corner.
“Ready, Sophia?” Larry asked.
“Us too, Felicity,” said Marla.
“Five more minutes,” Felicity said without looking at her. Marla’s jaw tightened, but she said nothing. She gave Larry a warm smile, then went and sat back down on the stone bench.
Sophia stood up, brushing the grass from her knees, and followed Larry back down the brick path. She glanced over her shoulder. Felicity was still looking down at Sybill’s tombstone.
***
She began to see a lot of Felicity after that. She told her more than once to piss off, but Felicity just laughed and ignored her. After a while, her presence at Sybill’s grave ceased to be an irritation and became instead a bleak expectation. Occasionally they would talk, but rarely about the same things. Felicity wanted to reminisce about her school days, whereas Sophia considered the only conversation with her to be worth having was any discussion which might shed light on what she had seen in the minds of the Basement residents.
“Were you ever brought to this institution as a kid?” she asked her one day. The garden was in full bloom, and the air was thick with the smell of honeysuckle and jasmine.
“Off and on,” said Felicity. “Why?”
“They brought Jack into my Mastery Session a little while ago. I thought I saw you in one of his memories. ”
“Huh.” She offered no elaboration.
“Jack isn’t the only resident from the Basement Complex that I’ve seen,” Sophia said, watching her closely. “I’ve worked on Samantha and Liam too.”
“Is that right?” She seemed maddingly uninterested in this conversation. “Oh, speaking of basements, did I ever tell you about the time Sybill and I broke into the---"
“They all remembered the same room,” Sophia interrupted. “Do you know it? It had purple flowers on the wall. Violets, maybe?”
Felicity heaved a deep sigh and picked at something on her arm for a moment. “It’s hyacinths, actually.”
“So you you’ve been there?” Sophia said eagerly.
“That room has been used for a lot of things over the years.”
Sophia’s brain suddenly lit up like a bolt of lightning. Discombobulated pieces of information clicked together, and one name sprang out at her from the dark tangle of her thoughts.
“What is Project Camilla?”
Felicity stared at her for a full thirty seconds before she started to laugh.
“There’s some awfully juicy stuff on the third floor, huh? I’m impressed. How’d you pull that off? It took me ages to figure out how to get in there.”
“Never mind.”
“No secrets between friends, honey.”
“That’s fine, then. We’re not friends.”
Felicity pouted. “If you can’t be nice, I’ll just go.”
“Don’t tease me with false hope.’’
Felicity showed all of her teeth in a sugar-white grin. “Let’s see. Project Camilla…honestly I don’t really know what it is, honey. Daddy has only mentioned it in passing. I think the Project and this shithole are two branches of the same tree, but I don’t really know how or to what extent.”
“Is it still operating today?”
“Beats me.”
Endless questions poured into Sophia’s mind like water from a faucet. She thought of the hyacinth room. Had she ever been there? She didn’t think so, but if it happened when she was little, she wasn’t likely to remember it. Furthermore, had every resident at this facility been subject to whatever went on there, or just the Basement kids? And what, if anything, did any of this have to do with a top-secret rehabilitation project that seemed---at least on the surface---benevolent and compassionate? Had her mother been involved in any of this?
“Do you know who Camilla is?” Sophia asked finally.
Felicity smiled. It was a twisted grimace, like she’d tasted something sour.
“My mother.”
The ensuing silence swelled around them like an inflating balloon. Felicity played with a dandelion that was growing at her feet.
“Where’s your mom now?” Sophia asked finally.
“Not sure. She moved away after they divorced.”
“What is your mother’s last name?” Sophia asked. “Did she keep Reynolds?”
“God no. She went back to Arlett. Why? Going to take her to lunch?”
Sophia ignored the snide comment, lapsing back into silence as she absorbed this information.
“Our mothers knew each other, you know,” Felicity drawled.
“What?”
“Evelyn caused a lot of arguments at my house when I was younger.”
“Between who?”
“My parents.”
“Over business?”
Felicity laughed. “You could say that. Never mind. I only mentioned it to spite you.”
“What?” Sophia was growing increasingly confused.
“You’ve been very mean to me today. You hurt my feelings.” Felicity climbed to her feet. “See you tomorrow, sweetie.”
She strolled towards Marla, who was waiting, as usual, on the stone bench.
“Fat chance,” Sophia called after her.
Felicity just laughed again and waved at her without turning around.
***
Sophia snuck out of her room a few nights later. In her eagerness to avoid Felicity, she had stayed away from the cemetery over the last few days. It was taking a toll on her. She had become surprisingly attached to the ritual, and she wasn’t prepared to forfeit it just yet. If she couldn’t go during the day, she would go at night. She knew the way pretty well by now; she could get there without Larry.
She waited a couple hours after lockdown before picking the lock with her trusted bobby pin. She found her way down the dark halls and to the side door. It creaked when she opened it, and she quickly slipped out into the crisp air outside to cut the sound short. The star-lit garden was a breathtaking sight. Everything was lit with a dusting of pale silver, which made every branch and flower and mossy rock appear to glow from within. As Sophia treaded reverently through, she was suddenly overcome with a feeling she used to experience during mass when the priest held up the Host. Something within her soul stirred, testifying to the truth of what was happening, but that same something was not able to fully articulate what that truth was. It was a feeling of sacredness and profound mystery.
When she rounded the corner, her pleasant reverie ended. She came to a dead halt and all the blood seemed to leave her body. There was someone standing over Sybill’s grave. Before Sophia could dive into the nearest bush to hide, their head turned in her direction. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she realized that this person appeared severely disfigured. Their limbs were gnarled and lumpy, and they seemed to have a hunched back.
Then they stepped forward. Sophia gasped and stumbled back. Wild dark hair threaded with ivy and cold eyes that glinted like shards of black glass in the moonlight. She had seen those eyes a thousand times in her nightmares.
“Isaac?” Sophia said hoarsely.
The tree-man was silent. He took another small step towards her; his “legs” were trunks, and his “feet” were really nothing but clusters of branches, which gripped the earth in a manner chillingly similar to human toes. Then he used a long, twiggy finger to point at his ears and his mouth---or rather, he pointed to the general areas where they would be located on a normal person. His own were buried beneath all the foliage growing out of his body. Then he shook his head laboriously from side to side. Sophia mimed him, frowning, puzzled as to what he meant. After the fifth mime, she got it.
“You’re deaf?”
The head went up and down, with great slowness.
“And I guess you can read lips.”
Nod.
They both stood there silently, staring at one another, for what felt like a long time. Then Sophia heard a voice in her head:
May I speak with you like this?
A shiver traveled up her spine, and she felt goosebumps erupt on the back of her neck. This felt nothing like what she had experienced while sharing thoughts with Val and Jude. This was very intimate, and also very strange. She heard him as clearly as if he was speaking inches from her face.
I didn’t know you could do this too.
I am a special kind of abomination.
Have you been the one leaving flowers?
Yes.
Well they’re shit and so are you.
Yes. I know.
A mental silence spread through her mind like smoke. Her heart was pounding with fear and anger, but she couldn’t bring herself to walk away just yet.
Sybill fucking hated daises, by the way, so stop leaving those. The carnations and peonies are okay.
Thank you. I will remember that in the future.
How long are you going to stay out here? I wanted to visit her.
Yes. Of course. I will leave you with her now.
Isaac slowly turned and began to lumber away, his feet shaking the ground with each step.
There was a time when I wanted to kill you.
He paused, and then the dark eyes appeared from over what she assumed was his shoulder.
You can project into my mind with great ease for someone so young.
I’m just finishing what you started.
Do you still want to kill me, Sophia Montgomery?
How would it fix anything?
That was not my question.
I do want you to die.
Yes.
But that also wouldn’t fix anything.
Indeed.
I still have nightmares.
As do I.
You’re in them.
You appear in mine as well.
Another internal silence. Sophia began to feel a strange sensation, and after a moment she realized she was picking up on the emotional imprint of his thoughts. It was similar to what she felt when she took memories from someone. This sensation, however, was much more visceral. It was like they were momentarily sharing a heart, and Issac’s was burdened with a deep ache. She felt her own heart stirring with pity---and a surprising camaraderie.
You should try to make peace with it. We both should.
Unlike you, dear child, I do not deserve peace. I have reasons for why I did it. If I had to do it all over again, I would probably make the same decision. And so I will wrap my regret around myself like a cloak. I will never allow myself to forget your sister, or that I am capable of killing. She will haunt my every waking step and you will haunt my dreams, and so I will never be at peace. It is my own doing.
But that…
…will not fix anything?
No.
But perhaps I do not want to fix things.
The silence came again, and this time it felt like the coldness left behind after a warm body leaves the arms. He had severed their mental connection. Sophia hugged herself, shivering a little in the cool night air as she turned and started back towards the entrance. She had taken only a few steps when she heard him again:
You said carnations and peonies?
Yeah.
Be well, Sophia Montgomery.