Burn, Baby, Burn by Michael Seale (Epilogue)

 Epilogue

Two years later…

The white walls were calming. They were unadorned expect for the numbers next to the doors. The halls were all the same, white tiles, white walls, wooden doors, black numbers, on and on. A person could get lost here. At the end of the halls the door would be locked, cameras were positioned above them; they monitored every movement the wards made. Screaming could be heard coming from another floor, perhaps another world, one never knows here. The patients on this hall were mostly quiet. Singing could be heard from behind one of the many doors. 

“This has been his home, since the incident.” The doctor stated.

“May I see him?” she asked.

“It may upset him; we have no way of knowing perhaps you would like to watch him first. After you see that he is no longer the same as before it will be easier. I doubt he will recognize you.”

“Yes, that would be nice.”

“We will bring him to the main room, where the other patients are, we will be able to observe him from behind the mirror.”

She waited patiently behind the glass. It was strange to observe people in such a way she thought. But that is more or less what she has done since the incident, observe everyone from a distance. An older man shuffled in front of the large window, wearing a robe and slippers, he was muttering to himself. Another was playing a game of checkers with no one but seemingly waiting for the empty chair in front of him to make a move. 

The nurses escorted yet another into the room and set him at a table. It no longer looked like the man she once knew. He was but a shadow of himself, his hair was closely cropped, almost a buzz cut. His skin was pale and sallow. His eyes looked different from the rest though, alive. Like a child at a candy store she thought. He looks as if he has just won the jackpot. He was smiling from ear to ear.

The man sat on the floor and began to play with the few blocks that were there. He would build a small tower and then knock it over and laugh. It was like watching an overgrown kid play by himself. He hummed a tune loudly. 

Absently he would close his eyes and shake his head, his smile would fade. He would hold his hands to his ears and scream. Then all would be well again. This would happen in regular intervals. 

“Why does he do that?” she asked.

“We are unsure, it seems like an internal fight. He once said the other wants to come out, but that was about a year ago. He hasn’t spoken to us since. He just hums his song.”

Mike stood up from the blocks and looked at the man playing checkers and then frowned at the other one by the window. He then turned and faced the glass wall. He walked slowly towards the mirror, his slippers shuffling on the tile floor. His grin grew wide and he stuck his tongue out. He spent the next few minutes making silly faces and blowing spit bubbles directly at Kimber. 

“May I see him, now?”

“Are you sure you want to, you see, he is not the same as before?” 

She nodded, she didn’t know if she really wanted to or not, but her thought it would be best for her to face her fears head on. So her she was about to bump heads with her greatest fear, the man that had raped her and tried to murder her.

The doctor escorted Kimber into the room, of course he didn’t know that she was Kimber, she had said she was his sister. The room smelled of pee and disinfectant. Kimber’s sweat was cold although the room was warm. The man playing checkers sneered at her and smelled the air. The old one by the window frowned and looked away. Mike stared at his reflection in the mirror. She slowly walked over to him.

He ignored her even though she knew he could see her in the glass. The doctor stood off to the side watching. She touched his shoulder; he pulled away, like a small child would. 

“Hi Mike,” Kimber said. 

Mike’s pale blue eyes lit with recognition. He scrunched his brow as if he was thinking about a hard problem. The smell of pee seemed to rise in the room; the man playing checkers began to cry. He had pissed himself. The doctor helped him leave the room leaving them alone. 

“Mike, says you look nice.”

Kimber’s eyes went wide with shock. The boy living in Mike giggled. 

“Are you not Mike?” she asked.

“No, silly, Mike is protecting us. He keeps the hitting man away.”

She shook. She hadn’t thought about how she would react once she spoke with him. 

“Where is Mike then?”

The boy touched his forehead and shushed her. He bent down to play with the blocks again. Motioning her over, he put his finger to his lips.

“Mike, says I shouldn’t talk to loud, he doesn’t want me to talk to the doctors.”

“Can Mike hear me?”

“Of course, he controls the light now. That’s why I am here. He says I never got to play when he was a kid, so now I should.”

“And what about the hitting man? Where is he?” 

He tapped his forehead again. “But Mike says that he won’t get out again.”

The old man was standing next to them, she finally saw the left side of his face. It had been badly burnt at one point but now the scars were very old. His hair was gone on his left side and his skin looked as if it had melted away. 

“My Mikey, is a good boy.” He coughed out as he tussled Mike’s hair, like a father would that was proud of his son. “He helped me see the light.”

The little boy didn’t smile at the old man. He stared up at him from the floor; Kimber could see his eyes turn black. “You should have died,” a different voice grew from Mike’s mouth. But just as quickly as it came it was gone again.

The old man shuffled back to the window, singing to himself. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine; you make me happy both day and night…”

A tear rolled down Kimber’s cheek. “It’s ok, Mike. I forgive you.”

Mike giggled. “No,” he said to himself, “I can’t do that.”

“What can’t you do?” she smiled at him for the first time.

“No… he wants to hold you.” She hesitated. She was unsure, and then she gave in and hugged the boy-man that was before her. At first it was awkward, then after a few seconds the boy hugged her back. Her grief, her fear, her hate and anger for him left at that moment. She felt as if she was holding him, the real him; she could feel his heart beating. She had the closure she had been searching for. 

The boy giggled again but not in the same way as before, there was something sinister behind it. Something that didn’t quiet belong. She tried to push away from him but he held her tight, his ocean blue eyes were black once more. He laughed, as his fingers wrapped around her neck. 

“That’s a good boy, son,” the old man said staring out the large window.