NOVEL SIMPLE Like a Wave Across a Bay
October 14, 2022
(CW: Use of homophobic and transphobic slurs; discussion of suicide)
Jace
I knocked on the wall three times after doing some basic care to my dry elbows. After Leigh’s meeting with me this morning, and the nameless sponsors dryly shoving veggie burgers and what seemed like thick-cut fries through the door on the threat of a tasering, I had largely ignored the rest of the world. Played music until my brain was exhausted. Took a nap in the morning. Quickly got used to the same four walls, seeing the drab color of the walls, beginning to look into the cracks for some new excitement.
“You there, blondie?” I asked.
After lunch, I played video games, losing myself in them to try and escape the moment. I felt my head swimming from the loneliness and the isolation within the four hours. I honestly felt pretty good after a night’s sleep, but that good feeling quickly faded. I thought I would be following whatever schedule the other boys went through. However, Leigh said that I would have a monitoring period, and I would be retained to the room for a few days. I yelled at her; she understood, and she left me be.
Why must none of them feel willing to respond? I just… I needed to feel some release.
“Yeah,” he finally responded after what felt like minutes. “I didn’t see you today. Where the fuck were you?”
“I’m not being released yet,” I replied nonchalantly. “Honestly, I hate it.”
“I can’t tell you to avoid the blondie and then you just don't show up,” he said with a testiness that I found rather amusing. “Killing the vibe, you know? I told the gang allll about you. They didn’t believe that you existed!”
“Not my fault,” I responded.
“Who’s your girl, kid?” He asked. I could sense the beaming grin from the other side of the wall.
“Her name’s Leigh,” I replied. “She’s a nice woman.” I looked away for a moment. Leigh was involved with saving my life. I couldn’t really fault her, even if my brain wanted to make some choice comments.
“They put you wherever the hell this is. Dorley Hall, seemingly the home of the most uppity women north of London,” Blondie added, his voice seeming to bristle. “And you think your captor is nice? Holy fucking shit, dude, did you speedrun Stockholm Syndrome or something?”
“No, I just…” It hurt to hear that kid on the other side of the wall say that. “I just feel like I’d be fucking dead if I wasn’t here, so I guess I feel a sense of gratitude. All it is.”
“Alright, I guess,” he replied. “Sounds like you tried to kill yourself or something.” He was probably joking about it, but the fact that he got so close to the truth made me feel uneasy.
“Hey, blondie, are you still good about having these conversations?” I asked, my voice shaky. “They can… they can hear us. I assume they only let us have these conversations because of the fact that they hear everything we say.”
“Dude, I reached out supposing they had microphones in the closet and cameras that could see your dick when you masturbated,” he replied, as loudly as he could. “I knew my privacy was long gone. But these women don’t matter. Even if I only know you because of them. I just act like they’re not here when I can’t see them. Fucking bitchy voyeurs, the lot of them. At least Tabby’s hot. When she bends over in front of me, I can…”
“Christian, do you want to be locked up in the cells again?” I heard the loudspeaker in the other room bark, interrupting my train of thought. It was a voice I did not recognize. Of course, they’ve been listening in on these conversations. “You might wanna watch your tongue.”
I heard Christian say something that was too quiet for me to pick up.
“Speak loud enough for the audio to pick it up. That goes for you too, Jace.” I heard Leigh’s voice crackle through the loudspeaker in my room. Learn something new everyday, I guess.
“Wait… cells? They can hear us?” I exclaimed suddenly, realization striking me. “You’ve been to the cells before, Christian?”
“Yeah, started out there,” he replied. “You didn’t?”
I swallowed. “Yeah, no. I… Well, you asked me to give you the details of how I got down here last night. I really did try to kill myself. Went into the river near Almsworth later in the evening wanting to end it all. I actually passed out in the water. I don’t remember all the details, but I know I woke up down here. In a separate room. I was wrapped in a blanket, and they calmed me down before leading me to my room.” I sighed. A weight off my chest. “You could say that they saved my life in a literal sense. I wanted to die. I was going to succeed. Yet I’m here.”
“Shit, man,” he said with an ounce of derision. “Then how did you end up here? Chicken out or something?” I heard a very loud sigh come from the other side. “No wonder I never saw you there back on Wednesday.”
“I really went through with it. I was going to succeed,” I replied, my blood ice cold, the bile rising in my throat. “But, well… They pulled me out of the water. The girls down here. You mentioned Tabby?”
“Yeah,” he said. “She’s my sponsor, or whatever they call it.”
“Well… apparently, she’s one of the women who pulled me out of the water and brought me down here,” I said. I felt my breaths start to speed up. “So… I guess you have her to thank for me talking to you right now.”
“Guess so. Perhaps even the most chaotic women north of the Thames can do some good occasionally. A single decent decision on a mountain of whatever the fuck this hellhole is.”
“But yeah, I didn’t chicken out,” I said right back, before quickly noticing an unintentional testiness to my words. “I got myself fuckin’ plastered at the bar. The alcohol made me able to rationalise it, you know? So I just… went for it. And now I’m here.”
I heard a sigh through the wall. “Not long before the brawl, up here in Almsworth, one of my mates was found dead in his house in Bromley,” Christian started in response, his voice hollow but terse. “His girl and his little kid were out all day spending time with each other, and he was left alone for hours. He was already long gone when they found him. The boys and I pooled some of our money to help the wife support her little girl, but nobody’s gonna replace Rodney. I still think suicide’s for fuckin’ cowards…” He trailed off a moment. “But there’s something different about it when it’s someone you know, you know? Maybe if I had known, I could’ve talked him out of it. Maybe he’d still be around.”
“Yeah…” I sighed. “If I died, I wouldn’t be the first kid to go from my group. Lost a couple already to drugs, one kid drove the wrong way in traffic drunk, and one just… died of cancer. I guess, to them, I’m just the first suicide. I know I’m considered dead to the world right now.”
“We’ll get out of here eventually, brother,” he replied. “When we get out of here, I’ll buy you a round. You’ll be raised from the fuckin’ dead. Let you redeem yourself from your cowardice, Jesus.”
“I… guess I can drink to that,” I said, my voice shaky, feeling a bit more bile rise up in my throat, thinking of the fact that I could be dead now. He was right. I was a fucking coward. I felt a bit shaky, my breath accelerating. But when I focused on his words, it was like… an oddly calming sensation, a counterbalance to the dark pit in my stomach? It was similar to what I felt in rare moments, a small spark, a connection to another forlorn soul who, despite his foul mouth, I could find some kindred spirit.
For what felt like an hour, we just continued to talk. About football teams, the mundane, unimportant things. He was a West Ham fan. I supported Liverpool since it was the team of the guy who ran the pub in my hometown. That, he got. It was little things that made supporting West Ham magical to him. He recalled the exhilaration when his team got back up to the Premier League when he was 12, the last time he got to sneak into Boleyn Ground before it was torn down, and shittalking managers. Fat Sam. Bilić. David Moyes. After that soul bearing, it seemed as if we otherwise mutually avoided our lives outside of the basement, and just focused on the common ground.
It was nice to have someone who seemed… disconnected from this environment, from whatever this place was. Even if I'd probably hate his guts if I had met him outside of this enclosure, talked to him in person rather than separated by a wall, I don’t think I could easily extricate it from the liferaft that his presence provided at this moment. It was… almost calming. He was so unlike most of the other men that I had spoken to for some reason, and it almost made me forget the panic, the anxiety that I felt pooling within me.
He seemed to also appreciate the conversation, if how he was talking was any indication. I wasn’t sure about his ‘helping a brother out’, though. It felt inapplicable to me somehow, but I put that aside. I just remained there, huddled on the bed, wondering if his layout mirrored mine, or if I put him to pain to speak with me. The table couldn’t be moved; the closet was too heavy (and probably also bolted down), so there was only a thin space to sit atop the table and let one’s legs dangle. Perhaps that’s how he did it. Maybe he just stood the whole time.
After a while, I suddenly heard the door open. “Alright, Christian.” It was muffled, but it was the first voice from the speaker. Tabby, her name was? I heard inaudible responses, some shouts, then the door shut, and I was alone again, on my bed.
My eyes remained wide open. I looked in the mirror. I saw the bouncy brown head of hair I knew as mine. The same nearly shut blue eyes. Thin lips pursed into a concerned frown. I knew it was me. But it didn’t really seem like me. The bile concentrated. The sensations, the recognition of panic that was starting to grip me. I really was still alive. This wasn’t just some purgatory. This was still my life. I was a coward. I really had left my life in someone else’s hands, even if I intended to go quietly into the dark night.
I thought I’d become someone else’s problem, but now I’ve really become someone else’s problem.
I fell back, looking up at the ceiling. Without the presence of another, I began to hyperventilate. I gripped my hair, rolling around on the bed. I couldn’t collect myself. I wanted to scream, but I was all screamed out. I couldn’t cry. I couldn’t ask for help. The words weren’t coming.
I released a hand from my hair, slammed my fist onto the bed over and over again, wanting some release from this feeling, wanting something to ease this feeling.
Leigh
I felt a sense of intrigue watching the back and forth between Jace and Christian. Of course, I’d get a nosy one. I groaned, looking up towards another camera, to take my mind off what I’m gonna need to do.
“I feel you,” Tabby replied. She winced when she looked over at my face. “Remember, you were a damn handful at the start. Jace might be more a handful than you expected, if he finds these ways to find out more about the world around him.”
“I hope letting Jace speak to Christian like that doesn’t cause either of them to be washed out,” I replied. “I honestly believe in both of them to get out of here in one piece. I know you guys probably feel the same about Jace, but I also feel that way about your charge, Tabs.”
“I don’t think it will do anything but good,” Olivia replied, swivelling around to look at the both of us. Her hands, adorned in one of her many pairs of long gloves, were sitting right on her lap. She flashed us a modest smile. I could tell it was fake. “I think Christian’s gonna need to go through… a lot down here. But I don’t see someone who will go down the route of many faceless names that once inhabited these cells. I remember the promise we made to Diana. We’re not to wash out anyone we think we can save, no matter how difficult.”
“Of course,” I said calmly. “I’m not too worried about my intake. I’m more worried about… Tabby’s intake. He seems like a violent one. Honestly, Tabby and Mary both have some problematic cases, given what brought them in here. I am curious if Beth’s new charge might be more than he seems, too.” “I am aware,” Olivia replied. “I have to be knowledgeable on all of them, you know? I’m Rabia’s assistant.”
“That you are,” I replied. I then looked back up at the monitor, which had Jace staring despondently into the mirror. “I just can’t let my guard down too much. Jace is nice now, but I… as much as I hate this, I might need to slip into normal sponsor mode with him once he’s released.”
“Have you fully debriefed him on what the program does?” Olivia asked calmly. “Does he know all of what this place is about?”
“Bits and pieces. I’ve put it off because of their mental state,” I said, sipping a lukewarm cup of coffee, more for the jolt than the warmth. “And after this, I’m sure that they’ll be fearing for their damn life. At a certain point, I’ll have to tell them about the goserelin and the estrogen and everything and… ah fuck…”
“It’s alright, Leigh,” Tabby replied, reaching towards me. “We’re keeping an eye on him, as we do everyone. As for your comment on Christian, I’m inclined to agree. Bastard he may be, but he’s definitely done enough in his life to believe he’s one of the more redeemable ones down there.”
“I think it’s best that we visit Jace and Christian again,” I said, glancing back for the briefest moment as Olivia flashed the cells on the main screen. “Sooner, better than later. I’d like to introduce you to them. You also helped save their life.” I then pointed to myself. “Mine too.”
“Perhaps it’s best that we meet personally a bit later,” Tabitha replied, flashing me an understanding smile. “Maybe tell him about me. Your big sister who helped you through your own great crisis. Create some mythos about your time here; connect as one little sister to one little brother. Don’t give him too much detail that would let him piece the dots together, but let him come to his own conclusions. He’s a nosy kid; he’ll poke and prod, and he might figure something out. Whether that something is correct or not is both up to you and up to him. If he finds something out, maybe he’ll tell the other kids.”
“I think Jace is scared of the other kids now,” I said, as the screen flickered over to Mia talking to Gerald. “I’m sorry, you two, but Mia’s in the room with Gerald. I thought you might want to see this,” Olivia interrupted softly, before letting the audio fill the security room.
—
“-I’m not wearing a damn choker,” Gerald said. For once, he wasn't wearing the hoodies that had become associated with him in the basement. “I’m not a damn queer. I am a man. Your damn insistence on cat-eared ‘boymoder hoodies’ is creepy already. A choker would just make me a target amongst the other boys.”
“Now, now, Gerald, what did you say while you were watching Queer Eye with the boys today?” Mia asked, her back turned to the camera, leaving me to imagine the sort of death glare she was giving the boy. “‘They should’ve gotten her conversion therapy instead’? She was a child when her parents kicked her out. She deserved support, not ostracism.”
“But it’s not right!” Gerald replied quickly. I already wondered if his heart was actually in it. “I mean, I guess it’s nice to see two women going at it, but it’s not right. The way we were made was to be one man with one woman, and there’s nothing you can do about it. Maybe they should just wish to be men in the next life if they want to fuck a woman so badly. There’s services that can fix her, all I wanted to say.”
“You’re being incredibly disrespectful, Gerald,” Mia said, twirling a frilly black choker, the sort I’d seen her wear out before, around her finger. “Homophobia is not something we tolerate down here. You remember what I promised you when you came down here? Tell me what I promised you.”
“‘Homophobia and transphobia will be met with punishments in the form of revisions to my wardrobe’,” Gerald droned. “But you can’t do that! The boys already tease me for the hoodies! My hair is already getting unruly to comb in the mornings! And I feel so warm wearing them, sometimes. Can I at least take off the hoodies in public now?”
“Should’ve thought about that before you made the conversion therapy comment,” Mia replied, handling the choker to him. “For the next week, you’ll be wearing a choker to every socialisation time that we grant you. As usual, If you continue to misbehave like this, the next step will be replacing every single one of your pairs of pants with skirts. And then your trainers with heels. On top of that, the timer on the other punishments resets when you misbehave. And don’t think I wouldn’t do it, Gerald. This isn’t my first rodeo.” Definitely a lie, but Gerald wouldn’t have to know that yet. “Now, put on the choker, or I will tase you.”
-
After that, Olivia swapped over to another boy, a tall kid with a previously shaved head that was slowly filling out with black hair quietly listening to something on his media player. There were already fist-sized indentations in his wall, and his hands were wrapped in gauze.
“Holy shit, Mia’s actually going the force fem route,” I said. “I thought the cat-ear hoodies were just her own personal touch.”
“I’m surprised he’d admit he knew what boymoder hoodies were,” Tabby added. “Either he’s really dedicated to the transphobia thing or-”
“Let’s not speculate when it’s not clear on his own file,” I replied. “It’ll come out of him in time if it’s true. If not, we’ll have a regular sort of intake to deal with. Maybe we should talk to Mia about this.”
“Honestly? Knowing what he did, this is a very effective punishment, in my opinion,” Tabby said right back. “He was very bad out there, and he’s continued to manage to walk a thin line of both patheticness and malice.”
I look over to Olivia, who shrugs. “Not my circus, not my peanuts,” she said. “I’m not a sponsor, but I do think Mia’s taking it a bit too far. Maybe he could be rewarded by not having to wear some of it when he does good, or something?”
“He probably needs all the help he can get…” Tabby shrugged, turning away from us. “I’ll bring it up to Mia.”
“Agreed,” I said.
“I think letting the two talk through the walls is beneficial for now, at least while Jace is stuck in his room,” Tabby said, already halfway out the door. “I’m gonna get going. I’ll go get Christian to take him to socialisation time. You should consider getting Jace out to enjoy some eventually.”
“Can’t yet. Aunt Bea and the doctors have enforced a week of observation after all that,” I replied. “They’re also gonna get their blood work done on Monday. A bit quick after their goserelin implant, but Jace’s breaking the normal protocols in so many ways that it’s absurd.”
“Tell me about it,” Olivia muttered.
“Alright, see you later.” Tabby closed the door, leaving just Olivia and I alone.
I felt a bit of guilt after the white-gloved woman’s comments. “I hope I’m not giving you and Rabia hell for this one,” I said to her.
“It’s fine,” Olivia said with an adequate amount of sarcasm as she flipped the screen to Jace. “At least you made the hell worthwhile. Promise me you will not let them wash out, no matter what.”
“Jeez, I’ve already promised Diana I won’t let anyone wash out. What makes you think I’m gonna let Jace be someone special?” I asked, my eyes darting over to the screen. “I’ve already been in their room a ton trying to get them to acclimate to their new environment. I think they’ll take to the programme like a fish to water.”
“I think they’re gonna need a bit of extra care for a while,” Olivia replied. On the speaker, you could hear the door to Christian’s room open before the feed swaps. “I’ve also noticed you use they/them pronouns for Jace. Any reason you do that?”
“I’ve noticed them flinch ever so slightly when you use masculine pronouns around them. I’m just… getting them used to this so the shift to she/her can be easier,” I replied, watching them stare blankly at the mirror. “Believe me, if their internet history is anything to go off of, they’re gonna come out at some point, and they’re either going to be relatively quick about it, or we’re going to be dragging them into womanhood. Either is possible, to be completely honest. Once they realise they’re safe. I still think it’s gonna take a while for it to get through their head that they are safe. And a lot of little meetings. But I think the blow-ups, the spiteful comments, the spirals… they’ll be common for now. But they won’t be forever.”
“And I think they’re gonna have another one soon, so I think you should make your way down to the cells,” Olivia said, as the feed moved towards Jace again. “Have a good day, Leigh. Thanks for coming in to talk to me for a bit.”
“No problem, Liv.”
Leaving the security room, I took stock of the world around me as Tabby walked off. With Christian sitting in silence at the table, a fully stocked main room freshly populated with the faces of the intakes seemed dead to the world. There seemed to be mild chatter, but that was more the sponsors keeping themselves occupied by the comings and goings of the world than any of the boys causing trouble.
Two of them, the boys that she knew as Ritchie and Henry, sat by each other as the television droned on about a cooking competition. It was fascinating that Henry was allowed to keep his long, shaggy brown mane and full beard, but he hadn’t given the sponsors any trouble as of yet. He rested his chin atop his left hand, resting on the side of the couch, in a contemplative state, staring intently at the TV. Knowing what I did about his intake, Holly had her work cut out for her.
The other, a tall, lanky, well-groomed boy, looked uncomfortable in his own skin. A whelp on his right cheek was still healing days after he got decked. While he was also focused on the show, I noticed his eyes darted towards the third boy in the room, and to the sponsors periodically. He had a look of mild anguish on his face.
God, I did not envy him. He was practically attached to Henry half the time, the only boy who seemed to give him any non-hostile attention to date. A rich pretty boy whose only solace was a formerly homeless man who seemed just powerful enough to keep Christian and Jacob at bay. Talk about reaching across class boundaries.
Speaking of Jacob, the boy scowled as he read the romance novels that occupied the literature given to these intakes at this point in the program, as the feminist lectures had barely begun in earnest. He had always kept a distance–doubly so when Christian was around–but it was hard to know how he felt. And that was Mary’s boy. I questioned the choice that she made in picking him. Perhaps he could’ve gone to Monica, or Tabby, or even me! When they did have to tase him, it took three different girls to keep him down, and Mary was so petite that she was unable to do much on her own. He did seem smaller than when he arrived, but that was little comfort when he was my height.
I moved away from creeping behind the frame when I saw Edy flash me a look of genuine confusion. I came into the room, just a moment, rubbing the back of my head in mild embarrassment, issued a quick apology, and tucked away down the hall so I could get over to Jace’s room. I pressed my thumb up to the sensor to let myself in his room.
When I entered the room, I noticed Jace zoned out, looking up at the ceiling, slamming their fists into the bed frame, a dull, unyielding groan coming from their lips. They were rubbing their temples, letting out heavy, pained breaths, seemingly trying their best to keep calm. They barely acknowledged me as the door closed, intent to just stare elsewhere.
“Jace? Are you alright after all that?” I asked, trying to be a good sponsor. “He just… kinda went off on you.”
“Yeah…” They definitely weren’t okay. They got back up on their bottom, tucked themselves into a ball, and finally looked at me. “I’m fucked, aren’t I?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, looking for answers. “I should be dead,” they said. I got a closer look at their eyes and there seemed like nothing underneath. The thousand-yard stare. Their breaths got more and more rapid. “What if I’m gonna die down here? Blondie’s nice for now, but what if he changes his mind on what I’ve done? What if they all see me as the little faggot who couldn’t even kill themselves properly? What if they just decide to finish the job? I don't know what the people down here are like, Leigh.”
“Christian’s gone to socialise with the others,” I said calmly. “And believe me. I don’t think you’ve got a reason to worry. Remember the tasers that you heard Bethany talk about yesterday? A few of the boys have already developed… let’s call it a healthy reverence for the things. Plus, if any of them tried something, the girls would dogpile him in an instant.”
“Why would you all do something for me like that?” They choked out in their hyperventilation.
“Do I…” I quickly started. “Do I have permission to get close?”
“Yes, but please don’t get in the range of my hands,” they said. “I don’t trust myself not to try and hurt you right now.”
I eyed the room for anything that could be helpful at the moment. Just under the bed, I noticed the quilt that Mary had put on them the previous night. I darted across the room, reached under the bed, and threw the quilt over their body. In the moment, I felt its imperfections, the little strands that added texture to a beautiful blanket, the roughness of the textiles that went into it, the beautiful colours that went into its makeup. Apparently Mary had been good with crafts as a kid, and as a religious figure, such hobbies weren’t necessarily discouraged. Here, it could be put to a lot of good.
“I… hope that’s helpful enough,” I said with as much measure as I could as I moved, well out of Jace’s reach, towards the front of the bed and pulled the quilt out from underneath. It filled my heart with dread to see the kid that was supposed to be my charge, this kid who was nowhere near enough to deserve Dorley Hall’s methods of treatment, down here because I made a choice to bring them here. I could’ve put them in a hospital. I could have helped them check into a psych ward. But maybe that would just make it all worse. They indicated that they would try again if they got the chance, and in my heart I believed they would make good on that threat.
I exhaled. Maybe, for as fucked up as it seemed, it was the best call to bring them here. At least here, I could make sure they were alright.
They gripped the quilt tight. They wrapped it around their person, kept their hands balled inside it, the quilt’s slack quickly tightening around their form. It engulfed them, only showing the extremities and the fluff of brown hair that refused to stay underneath. They rocked back and forth slowly, their stare unbreaking with the mirror, hunched over in a tiny ball in the centre of the cot.
“You don’t have to talk, okay?” I said calmly, despite the swell of emotions that clogged my throat. “I think… This program is going to be a tough ride at the start for you. I don’t have faith in the rest of them, but I have faith in you, Jace. You may have your reasons for being deemed sufficient to come down here, but…” I felt like the veracity of that statement isn’t so useful. “Scratch that. You don’t deserve this. I made a judgement call. I want you to be free. I want to see you thriving.” I knew the cameras were watching, but this was Olivia we were talking about. I turned to the camera and motioned for the feed to be cut. The red lights flashed green. “To let you see the morning sun again."
They finally tilted their head to look at me. Their pale face, haunting to look at, glared deeply into my soul without reflecting back a piece of theirs. They looked outright frightened. “You told me that at some point, I can get out of here. I don’t want the easy way out. I’m going to see this program through. I hate what I feel right now. It’s not logical. I know that I’ll probably get hurt at some point. But I know if I go back out there now, I’m just going to hurt myself more. I’ll kill myself. I’ll find a surefire way to do the job. I just need… I just need to get through this. One day at a time, okay? Don’t break me out. I need to atone. Just don’t…” They started rocking back and forth, their words trailing off.
“Atone for what, Jace? Sure, you hurt people, but it seems like you’re hurting yourself, too! I think you need to start with forgiving yourself,” I said, sitting on top of the table. I motioned to the lens that watched us until the light changed to red. “Cameras are off. Speak your mind. Take your time.”
They seemed to try and slow their breathing as best they could. Tried to swallow to stop the heaving of their body, collecting themselves the best as they could. Breath seemed to sizzle out of their lips as they seemingly tried to stop the trajectory of their emotions. They took a deep breath, as much as their body could allow in the moment, and started to sing.
There must’ve been a moment, just before you hit the water, when you were filled with a sense of peace and understanding /
With the wind in your hair and the light in your eyes, as you realised you were finally escaping
But somehow in that moment, you miraculously miss it, like a wave across a bay never breaking
And that’s how I like to think of you, ever falling, never landing, rolling slowly out to sea and always smiling You were always smiling.
And they stopped. They weren’t crying. They weren’t looking in the mirror anymore.
They were looking at me. And they were smiling.
“Jace…” I sighed. I needed to ask. “What does that mean to you?”
“It’s honestly kind of ironic, you know?” They started to say, the awkward fake upturned smile unbreaking. “I wasn’t thinking about that song when I did what I did. For a bit a couple days ago, you know how I felt? I saw an end to my release. I felt freedom from the ravenous pit that pulls at my organs, day in and day out. But now, as I’m in here, sitting alone with my thoughts and these ways to occupy my time, I’m able to imagine how another me must have felt when they got to die. Were they happy that their demons were gone? Did they regret their decisions as their body started to shut down from the lack of oxygen? Or were they too drunk to recognize the consequences of their actions? I honestly don’t remember that evening that well, but that feeling, Leigh? It’s stuck with me. It’s visceral. It’s real. I went from planning my own demise in the bar to… on the table, with you and Mary, in what felt like seconds.”
“I’m sorry that you felt that way,” I replied. I watched the grip on the quilt relax, saw it go a bit slack on their person. “I’ve… known people who felt that way. Many people. I’m thankful that they’re all still around now. It’s… tough to feel that way, you know?”
“Yeah, I agree,” they replied. “The pit I talked about? It started when I was… maybe 12 or 13. It rose up slowly over time. First just at the bottom of my stomach, and then it rose further and further up my torso. It’s now up to my lungs. I have to keep a constant guard on it because it’s hard to breathe if I don’t. I’ve lashed out at many people because it felt… like being around them was choking me. I’ve lashed at you over it. My feelings just… build up, and then they explode. I’ve said it before. My body craves the reaction. It’s not logical, but my body overrides its own logic. You’ve just never bit the bullet, and my brain feels weird about that.”
“I’m glad you feel like you can trust me enough to talk about this.”
“This is information I’d trust with anyone. Nobody can hurt me with it more than I do to myself.” They buried their head towards their legs. I noticed in that moment just how skinny Jace was, with how little space they actually took up, even despite their size. “I just feel… no reason not to share this sort of thing. And logically, down here, there’s not much you can do with it except avoid it, you know?”
“I mean, I guess you’re right.” I saw a bit of my old self in Jace at that moment, the rationalisations that most fascinated me about their brain. “I notice that you brought up logic multiple times now. You don’t have to always be so logical, you know?” I heard Bethany laughing inside of my brain, but I suppressed my hypothetical response. “You can just… be yourself, without fear of retribution from anyone else.”
“Logic is the easiest way for me to live. It lets me quiet my emotions, because logic means that there’s some justification I can feed into the pit to satiate it for a short while. And that means I can move on with my life instead of being stuck at the door to my dorm room for 5 minutes just because I can’t convince myself that it’s locked.” They actually chuckled. “I sound silly. But logic means I don’t have to handle that.”
“Have you ever tried sitting with your emotions?” I asked calmly. I didn’t think they sounded silly. “Meditation might help you with these things.”
“I’ve tried it all before. But I can’t do it alone. I enjoyed yoga classes when I was able to get them free at my college back in the states, but when there’s nobody around to guide me, I just… fall apart. I can’t last more than a couple minutes.” They looked a bit frustrated. “It just makes… it makes the bile rise back up in my throat.”
“That sounds… fair enough,” I replied. I could tell they’re coming down from their anxiety high somewhat. “But you can’t just live with logic crushing your emotions for your entire life. I know that from experience. It turns you into a human robot.”
“How’d you deal with it?” They asked me.
“Punching bag therapy, a lot of it. I was given a punching bag and surrounded by people who love me, and I exhausted my anger,” I replied, looking down at my hands, feeling the sting of remembering what they’ve done before. I thought about whether I should talk about Tabby, but I decided to save her for another day. “I still do it most days. No matter how far I’ve come, I still sometimes feel the sting of anger course through me. But with proper outlets, you don’t have to logically control every fibre of your being. You’re not a machine made of meat. You’re a human being, and you’re not meant to be controlled by anyone else. I think you just need your outlets, and I think you’ve already got one.”
“What do you mean?” They seemed obviously confused at what I meant.
“Don’t you feel better after you sing?” I asked.
“Yeah.” They looked away for a moment, before returning to me with a look of clarity. “Oh god, I use singing to self-soothe.”
“Exactly!” I exclaimed, standing up from my seat on the table with joy at Jace’s understanding. “But singing doesn’t have to be the only thing that works for you, you know? If it helps deal with the pit in your stomach, you need to find time to do it.”
“What else can I do in here to deal with my stress?” They asked me. “Singing is good, but I need more than that. I can’t really run or go do any exercise right now down here.”
“It seems like a couple of the boys down here let it out through their fists. I don’t advise it, though. If you saw what the boy next door’s walls looked like, you’d be discouraged,” I replied, reminded of my glances into his world, starting to smile uncontrollably. “It’s kinda silly. He’s not that tall, but he really can pack a punch.”
“You think you’ll find another way to let him let it out? A punching bag or something?” They asked, smiling a bit more. They still held themselves within Mary’s blanket, but it more draped around them lazily now, their vise grip on the fabric loosening.
“Believe me, Jace, if we put a punching bag in the basement right now, I think the boys in here would destroy it in five minutes. It’ll be a good while yet until we put any of you on punching bag therapy,” I explained. Imagining Christian, in whatever form he took down the line, in an ever-expanding gym of sisters with anger issues, talking about life, jamming to whatever empowerment song the crowd fancied that day… It was equal parts encouraging and absurd. “You’re probably the closest, to be honest, in terms of getting towards being allowed to start that. But you’re not even close, and you probably don’t need it.”
“Is it a matter of trusting us?” Right on the mark as usual.
“Yeah,” I said. “I don’t know you well enough yet to trust you fully, but I am trying to. You’ve given me zero reason not to trust you. I do not trust the other boys as far as I can throw them.” I noticed Jace instinctively cringe when I put them alongside the other boys in the intake, but whether due to disgust over comparison to them or for some other reason, I wasn’t sure. “I want you to trust me. We are two human beings, and this is a situation where you have to put your faith in the belief that I have your best interests in mind.”
Jace nodded.
“To avoid repeating ourselves further…” I smiled. I thought of how I needed to go help out with breakfast duty and… well, if music was a bonding tool… “I just have to ask this now. Are you at all a fan of Taylor Swift?”
“I, well, I listened to a lot of her early hits on country radio as a kid,” Jace replied. “But I never really got to give much of her pop stuff a shot. I’d honestly been considering trying some of it out before… Well, I came to the United Kingdom, and decided to disappear.”
“I gotta head out in a moment to help out with the other girls, but there’s a new Taylor Swift album dropping on Friday. It’ll be on the media player as soon as someone can burn the mp3s. Her entire catalogue should already be available to you.” I winked, slowly backing towards the door. They actually laughed for a moment at the absurdity of that proposition.
“I have one more question. When will I be… put out to the general population, so to speak?” Jace asked afterwards. “I… know I am not fully ready, but I’d like to get an approximate date to look forward to.”
“Maybe… Friday?” I replied. I watched them frown. I needed an excuse to delay the date of release a bit further in case a judgement was made about their intake; I wasn’t allowed to release them until the go-ahead was given. “I don’t think I have a specific date, but Friday would comport with what I’ve heard. Honestly, I think you need a bit more space right now, to think about this and to acclimate yourself to your new environment. What I can say with certainty is that you have another doctor’s checkup to do on Monday. Be prepared to give samples, emphasis on plural. Also, you should know that you’ll have Consensus access to contact me on your computer and your phone. I’ll bring the phone to you when it’s ready.”
“Alright.” They looked towards the floor. I noticed that I had moved a handcuff into plain sight, and they had tracked their sight on it. “What are those for?”
“They’re for… when boys get overly unruly and we don’t trust them enough to believe they won’t try to jump us,” I said. “I don’t think you’ll need them, but be prepared to potentially be handcuffed while they do your bloodwork, okay? I can’t be too sure, given your… compliance with everything, but I wanted to warn you in advance.”
“Thanks.” Their voice sounded acerbic. I recognized that I needed to get out before they blew up. I gave them a wave, they gave a stiff wave back, and I shut the door behind me and moved to go check on Tabby.
October 15, 2022
I opened my eyes and turned my head to the bright lights of the second floor window that overlooked the campus on a beautiful Sunday sunrise. The sun’s rays scattered across the floor of the room, barely illuminating the edges of the bed frame that carried me and Mary, our hairs mingled in one scattered mass, me sleeping on my back, Mary sleeping on her side. She clung tightly to the mass of the blankets, leaving me with just the quilt she gave to me. I soundlessly giggled, seeing my happy girlfriend smiling brightly in the bliss of the early morning.
It was mornings like this that made everything before so worth it. Before Mary, I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel safe waking up again. For years, I had woken up every day damning the fact that I had been given another day. I carried the emotions, the memories of what my life had been before, and the crippling anxiety that came when the need for my father’s praise mixed with the fear that I would be found out. It was always too much. I wasn’t even sure when it started; what I did, my father catching me supposedly jacking it to his magazines… that was just the culmination. I just couldn’t remember a time before those feelings began.
But the first night that the two of us laid together in a bed on the first floor, when we finally got permission to sleep together, I felt her soft touch on mine. I heard her whisper a small prayer to God, asking for a safe journey in our dreams, and to guard our journey together for as long as it could take. It left me feeling so warm that, for once, I could drift off to sleep. And the sensation of safety that I felt, Mary by my side, her hand on my stomach, when I woke up… only every other day I’ve gotten with her in my embrace, with me in hers, has even come close to matching it. Those memories went away on that day, and only returned as echoes of a past that is no longer mine, that drifts away into the abyss with each time I see her face next to mine in this bed.
On other days, I would go work out. Use the punching bags, or run, or take a class at a nearby facility run by a Dorley girl from a few years back. A funny part about the network was that many Dorley girls stuck around Almsworth and the surrounding area, and in most any industry you could find a Dorley girl at this point, and those Dorley girls were always willing to bill the Hall in order to take one under their wing. But Sundays? Before I had my evaluation, and before we had church, the two of us stayed in bed, melting into the morning, revelling in the warmth of the blankets, discovering sides of ourselves that we weren’t ever aware existed, fading in and out of blissful consciousness.
I looked at the clock. 8 AM. Enough sleep to make Aunt Bea satisfied. A solid hour before the 9 AM evaluation, and a solid two and a half before we needed to be on the bus to get to the service. It was a lot, but to hear the beautiful voice that Mary had developed, to watch the enthusiasm that she expressed, it was always worth it.
I sat up in bed carefully, trying not to disturb her as I stretched my arms above my head to work out the kinks that always developed in my shoulders. Then I shifted my torso about, loosening it up so I could run a hot shower and get on a nice light layer of makeup before Mary got in there and monopolised everything.
I heard Mary groan quietly as I shifted my feet towards the floor. She grabbed onto my night shirt and whispered, “Stay a little longer.”
“You know I can’t,” I replied. “Aunt Bea won’t mind if you’re still in pyjamas, but if I’m expected to be going to church, I have to look like my Sunday best.”
“And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God.” Again with that verse. Even when half asleep, she’s still able to try and guilt me with it.
“Don’t let Aunt Bea hear you quote that verse again when talking about the programme, Mary,” I said, giggling.
“I graduated. I don’t care anymore,” Mary replied in that sleepy little voice, her eyes still kept shut. “I want you in bed with me a little longer.”
“Not everyone is doing homework by going to church, little lamb,” I said, watching Mary’s eyes flutter open only to narrow at me. “Some of us have to keep themselves presentable.”
“You didn’t have to take on another year. Unlike Liv, you weren’t required,” Mary mumbled, moving my blanket over to her and strengthening her cocoon against the fall morning chill. “Now you don’t have a blanket of your own if you decide to change your mind. You’ll just stay in the cold.”
I felt the weak chill emanate from outside on this brisk morning. More motivation to get as bundled as possible. I walked over to the restroom, saying to Mary, “I’m gonna get in the shower now. I’m going to ask that you don’t take up the countertop in the bathroom while I’m cleaning myself off.”
“No promises,” Mary said, pouting.
“Then I’m locking the door.” I closed myself inside, locking the door. With any luck, Mary would roll back over for a little while longer. She was certainly much quicker with getting ready than I was. I turned on the shower head and let the water run for a moment to warm up.
I stared in the mirror, faintly reminded of what once was there. For a brief moment, I saw who I once was reflected in the mirror. Seeing her, who always was her, no longer filled me with the dread that I once felt. I smiled, gave her a wave, long after she had faded back into the collective experience that made us who we are. Between FFS; the laser, and the persnickety electrolysis, there was little left to demarcate that the kid ever existed. But she remained, in the mirrors and my thoughts and in the memories of those still there to mourn her.
I thought of Jace at that moment. What would they think of themselves when they’re a third year? How would they regard that rail-thin kid who got them far enough to the point where others could take over? Would it be as a friend, or as a discarded husk? For each girl, it was different. For her sake, I hope she chose kindness.
As I got into the shower, I started to think of what songs they’d pick for our conversation on Friday…
A knock on the door. It was 9 AM, and I was sitting atop tucked in sheets, my knitted quilt stretched out in a neatly folded rectangle positioned towards the front of the bed. Next to me was Mary’s clothes, carefully laid out: A fluffy white sweater; a dark plaid skirt and black stockings; her black buckled shoes, and her golden cross pendant. The veneer of perfection.
“Come in, Aunt Bea!” I sat atop the bed, my posture straight. I wasn’t quite here to impress Aunt Bea, but I agreed to this.
“Good morning, Leigh. I assume Mary is in the shower,” Aunt Bea said, standing by the dresser that Mary and I shared, resting her hand atop it. “I noticed that you put on makeup.”
“Yes,” I replied. More for show than for any conception of beauty. Straight after church, I was washing it off. “I told you that I would be taking this seriously. Even if you view this as a formality, I feel I need more practice on these things for when I am out in the world.”
“The world of law and politics is an unforgiving one. You’ve been able to watch young Councillor Ina figure it out as she went. I do not fault you for taking all the time you need to get this right,” Aunt Bea replied, looking out the window towards the direction, presumably, of the law building. “Your outfit is good, but simple. If you were a third year, or weren’t going to church, perhaps I would push you towards something a bit more… extravagant.”
“Not everyone can be a Mary or a Beth,” I replied. I thought a simple white turtleneck with pleated black trousers and a similarly shaded belt would be enough, perhaps with a nice burgundy peacoat for the weather. “I just like a simple wardrobe.”
“I cannot fault that. It is a good effort,” Aunt Bea said, her eyes on the outfit that Mary laid out as she spoke. “I believe that you’re doing fine. Any updates on Jace?”
“I had checked the Intake Tool Suite and found that Jace had listened to several Taylor Swift songs, as I had asked of them.” Christine had really done a wonder to the devices in the past few years. “I wanted to do a… listening party for the new album on Saturday, and I wanted to guide them towards some cathartic music while they’re here. They have definitely been… listening to certain songs in her catalogue on repeat.” It has been less than 24 hours. How have you already put 15 listens into the ten minute edition of “All Too Well”? Between that and “Never Grow Up”, I swear…
“Oh?” Aunt Béa looked at me with an ounce of intrigue, her fingers rapping against the wood on the old dresser. “That might be a good tool to garner compliance with the program. It could be used for both punishment and reward.”
“I think, at this stage, music is not an advisable medium for punishment,” I replied, standing up off of the bed, towering over Aunt Béa. “They’re not stable in the slightest; music is a way that they soothe themselves. But it looks like they have made a friend in the intake. I think that will be a start in getting them... on the right track."
Aunt Béa raised an eyebrow. She seemed genuinely surprised. “A friend? How did that happen?”
“The kid in cell 04 figured out that he could speak to Jace through the walls. Seems like they are amenable to conversation,” I replied. I needed to gauge her reaction.
“Christian? I admire the ingenuity,” Aunt Béa replied. “Haven’t seen that happen since the 2018 intake. Faye and Rebecca figured that trick out during a rather long lockdown. I would actually credit that as getting Rebecca through the year, and I think that’s also where the polycule started.”
I snorted in shock. “I never thought you’d be one to call something a ‘polycule’, Aunt Béa.”
“I’ve told you that I am not against learning new words, Leigh. They’ve also largely taken over Maria’s old suite; I don’t think Dorley is getting rid of them anytime soon.”
The two of us heard a knock from the other side of the bathroom.
“Is there anything else, Aunt Béa? I think Mary wants out of the shower relatively soon, and you should have more students to check on. And I’d like to go eat something before we get on the bus to Almsworth Cathedral.”
“I think that should be everything, Leigh. I appreciate your hard work, and I hope you have a great day.” She flashed me a smile and ducked out of the room, shutting the door just before Mary left the bathroom in a nude-coloured bra and panties.
“How’d it go today?” Mary asked.
“Awkward as always. As much as I need it, I sometimes wish it wasn’t always Aunt Bea doing it,” I said, grabbing the pillow behind me and clutching it close. “I don’t know.”
“She messes with all of us,” Mary replied, sitting on the bed and sliding on her stockings. “You handle it the best of all of us, to be fair.”
“I’d say that’s Bethany,” I shot back. “I don’t know how she so often flies in the face of that woman’s authority.”
She stopped pulling the sheer material across her thighs to plant a small, soft kiss on my forehead, making me sputter a bit at her brazenness. “Your beautiful mind thinks too much sometimes, love. Beth has never gotten over her fear of the woman. You, on the other hand, chose to intentionally learn more from her. You made sure Olivia didn’t go through another year alone. And, on top of it all, you decided to take it upon yourself and sponsor a kid in need. God smiles upon you, Ashleigh Wolf.”
“And, if they’re up there smiling, they smile on you, too, Mary Barnes,” I replied, tapping my head softly against hers. “Now, get dressed. I want to heat something up downstairs before we have to take a cold walk to the bus. I know you don’t want to be late.”
—------------
June 13, 2015
Jace
“Dad, I’d like to quit,” I said to him one day after cross country practice as he drove me home before work.
“How come, son?” He asked, looking over to me. “You promised me you’d go through with it until you graduate.”
“I just… I don’t want to do it. I never really wanted to do it,” I explained. Memories of other failed attempts at getting onto other teams flashed through my head. “There just really wasn’t any other team who was going to accept me as I was at the time. But I feel like I could try to get on another team now that I’ve gotten more fit.”
“I’m sorry, son. When you promise me something, you’ll have to go through with it until you fulfil your promise to me. Remember what I said when I let you do football camp?”
“You didn’t care how I felt about the sport. Once I started, I couldn’t stop until I was dropped.” I matched his tone but not his affect as I felt myself sink into the car seat. “I don’t really see how I wasn’t good enough to make the JV at the middle school.”
“You couldn’t tackle and everyone knew it,” he said back to me, an ounce of frustration in his voice. “We practiced tackling for weeks and weeks, but it was like you were allergic to it, buddy. You were actually kind of pissing me off by the end of it, buddy. Your coach had to find a position where you didn’t have to do it. You were actually pretty good. Maybe if you had found the gumption in you to tackle, you wouldn’t be here now.”
“Dad, you were my coach.”
“I wasn’t your only coach, son. But you had to at least try to play like everyone else.”
“I thought I was doing fine. I was playing how I wanted to, and I thought I was doing pretty good.”
“That’s the problem, son.” I knew what was coming. “You try to play the game you want to play, and not the game everyone else is playing. This isn’t just about football. This is about everything. If you would just listen to my advice for once, you wouldn’t struggle through life like you do. I’m just like you. I did a lot of this stuff at your age. All I want is to stop you from making the same mistakes I did.”
“I feel like I’m doing the right thing, and, well, I want to figure things out for myself.” We stopped at a red light. He took his hands off the steering wheel.
“But you’re not! You’re just being stubborn. You’ve got a bright future in front of you, son, but you always step right over yourself and make the mistakes that I’m trying to help you avoid.” I could see his face growing redder and redder, his fingers wiggling as he aimlessly gestured at me. “Everything I do for yours and your sister’s sake has a reason, buddy. I don’t want you squandering your future because you made a stupid mistake.”
“Dad, I’m 13. I have good grades. I have friends at school,” I started to explain, but he quickly interrupted me. I looked away from him as he got ready to have a small rant.
“You don’t socialize outside of school and sports, and you haven’t for a couple of years now. You just retreat to the computer room and talk to the people on that damn machine. I’m just worried, is all. You could go hang out with someone from school, or even go on some more runs with your teammates on the weekends…”
“There’s nobody who lives in this neighborhood other than me and Sandra,” I replied. “There’s no way for me to get anywhere. And none of the guys my age have a car yet.”
“Bum a ride from your older sister, then. She just got her car; she’s got nothing to do this summer except hang out and go to dance practice. I’ll even pay for her gas, tell her that, if she takes you to and from a friend’s house.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s what I want to hear.” He suddenly smiled, as if he forgot what just happened. By this point, we had entered the neighborhood. “Now, I heard someone got a PR on their 5k.”
“Yeah. 21:30. I’m up about 10 seconds from my previous best.” It wasn’t like it felt any different. I just watched one of the other girls who had a similar pace as me and tried to keep up with her as best as I could.
“That’s fantastic, son! I’m so proud of you for that; keep it up. Remember our deal. You get a sub-20 minute 5k by State Qual, you get a hundred bucks. I know you have it in you to be great at this.”
“Yes, sir,” I replied with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. Hopefully, it was enough. “I know I have it in me.”
“Coach appreciates how hard you work on the track. I’ll work with you to slim down more by the end of the season. It’ll help you get faster, and maybe it’ll help you start catching the girls’ eyes.” He winked at me. “I’ve seen the way you get around Hannah.”
“Dad, hush! She’s just a teammate.”
“Well, I gotta get goin’, son, enjoy your day,” he replied, giving me a kiss on the forehead. “I see your blush, and I understand how you’re feeling. Love you, buddy.”
I climbed out of the car and looked towards him, giving a nod and replying in kind.
So sorry for the delay, everyone! I was wrapped up in finals and starting a new internship this week. I have gotten *well* ahead of the canon for this story in the past few weeks, and I will be spending time making sure all of the chapters are coherent and consistent and continue the story forward!
Song Title Reference: "A Wave Across A Bay" - Frank Turner
Let me know what you think.