A. H. Wong

Chapter Four

 

March 1st, 2012

 

Late Evening

 

"Beatrix is adjusting well. At the very least, this is what I have noticed. I don't exactly have any dealings with the girl."

 

"She is certainly a special case, then, to be going so beautifully....without the help of the resident psychologist. A resident psychologist who, were it not for his special skills—and outright force of personality--wouldn't even be allowed in here, as he isn't exactly licensed...."

 

Taylor smirked at his boss, dark eyes flashing with a note of pride. "You couldn't do any of this without me. I hope you realize that, "Master" John."

 

Master John shook his head. "You keep saying that, young Taylor, but do keep in mind.....I am twice your age. Were it not for...."

 

"My special skills, and outright force of personality, I wouldn't be allowed in here. Those two things are exactly why I'm required here—and, besides, a licensed psychologist would flee at the sight of this place. Especially the patients on the seventh floor."

 

Master John looked at him coldly. "Now, now, I'd like it very much if you kept your mouth SHUT about that. We don't speak about how different those on the seventh floor are from the rest of the residents—they are separated enough as it is."

 

"Probably because you keep them apart from everyone else."

 

Master John gave him a look. "Taylor, please do not question me. I want those on the seventh floor to...."

 

"Be watched over by me, and ensure that no one ever realizes why they are different."

 

"Yes."

 

"So, that means isolating them so it's obvious they're different."

 

Master John sighed, closing his eyes.

 

Rolling his own eyes tiredly, Taylor continued. "Now, let's move on to why I'm here. What should I do about Beatrix and Martin?"

 

<3 <3 <3 </3

 

Meanwhile

 

"Why can't I sit with you during meals?" Martin asked, more than a bit angry. He had tried to sit with Beatrix, and one of them—Kevin—had almost slugged him.

 

Beatrix looked up at him. Her tongue heavy with the weight of secrets, she stammered out: "B-Because I....."

 

"Because it isn't allowed," a voice said from behind them. "I apologize, truly, but the cafeteria is very...volatile at times. To cope with this, the residents here have apparently made a very clear community system, in which clear rules operate. One of these rules is that the seventh floor residents are to be shunned."

 

The pair of them turned, only to be confronted by Lily. Her soft blue eyes blinked up at them, a smile on her snowy lips. "I'm sorry, I just overheard your conversation. I wanted to clean things up, as I am a seventh floor resident as well. You are....Martin, right?"

 

Martin nodded, a bit in shock.

 

Lily spotted it, letting out a tinkling laugh. "Oh, no! Don't worry—I'm done with my stalking days. It's just that....The Agency usually only gets newbies every once in a few months, so whenever a new bundle appears, we all tend to watch 'em. It's just part of being a senior resident—you'll get to be me one day."

 

"How long have you been here?" Beatrix asked quickly, finding she couldn't place Lily's age at all.

 

"Ten, fifteen years? I'm a lifer. There's no way to rehabilitate something that doesn't exist anymore."

 

With that, Lily turned and left them behind, staring at her pale skin set off by her bright-colored clothes.

 

Martin turned to Beatrix, taking her hand in his. "She's a seventh floor girl, and a lifer...."

 

Beatrix nodded, not enjoying the implications. "Yes."

 

"Does that mean she....That you...."

 

Beatrix pulled him to her, giving him a quiet kiss. "Don't worry about it."

 

Further down the hall, Taylor leaned against the wall. He closed his eyes briefly, letting out a soft sigh before heading back to his room.

 

He hoped he had made the right choice.

 

<3 <3 <3 </3

 

March 2nd, 2012

 

Very Early Morning

 

Martin kissed Beatrix' neck, grinning silently at the sight of the hickey. Nuzzling closer into her sleeping form, he closed his eyes and passed out again.

 

Beatrix blinked in the darkness, shuddering faintly at the touch of his body against her own. His skin was sweaty, and she knew that—were she to pull away—their naked forms would stick together like glue.

 

Beatrix closed her eyes then, forcing away the tears, and thought to herself: This is a choice I made.

 

This was something she had chosen to do, and she would live with it.

 

<3 <3 <3 </3

 

Early Morning

 

Taylor stared silently at the ceiling. He had scarcely been able to sleep all night, knowing for a fact that—somewhere, on this very floor—Beatrix and Martin lay in a bed together.

 

Something felt very wrong about that. Then again, he couldn't say he was very surprised by this—he knew, and had always known, that their future lay in bed together.

 

He just wished he knew that it was for the best.He wished he knew that the future would bode well for them. He just.....

 

No. He was caring too much. This was going too far, becoming too far. He must avoid this. He must.....

 

He must not face the feelings he might have for her.

 

Feelings he...couldn't believe in.

 

No. Feelings he was entirely incapable of feeling.

 

Taylor got himself out of bed, closing his eyes briefly as he stretched. He breathed deeply, in and out, until his heart rate slowed. He dressed quickly, in his usual slacks and nice shirt. Today's ensemble consisted of grey dress pants a deep red shirt, pairing the shirt with a soft black tie.

 

He smiled to himself vaguely in the mirror. he decided he approved, before heading out into the hall.

 

He had patients to see.

 

He stepped his way out into the hall, looking up and down. He saw no sign of anyone—good. Few were up this early. He could hear sounds from the lower floors, as well as songs blasting up from stereos. He shrugged—it was an almost daily occurrence, these loud interruptions of rebellious noise. He just wished he possessed the ability to understand everyone's drive to listen to things like dubstep.

 

He knew for a fact that dubstep, and other genres of deep-bassed music, can deaden the intellect of your mind.

 

No wonder a good deal of people scored so poorly on their tests.

 

Taylor shook his head, but he still felt glad that there were—in 

fact—some people who were still extremely driven. Whether it was to prove their parents wrong, to beat themselves, or just because it was something to focus on he found he didn't care very much. He saw it as an escape, and if it was what people needed, then that was what they would do.

 

Taylor brushed back his hair, before heading into his office. Others on the floor would rouse themselves soon, but he wasn't quite ready for that. He wasn't quite ready for the scores of people, the amount of emotions, and the din of conversation. He wasn't ready for the almost routine fights that broke out among seventh floor residents. He wasn't ready for the stress of handling all of it.

 

He also wasn't quite ready for breakfast.

 

As per usual, his first meal would be lunch.

 

As he closed the door behind him, he heard a yell. According to its direction, he supposed it came from Janelle's room—which was, of course, one of the most common directions to hear a shout from. He sighed softly, shaking his head.

 

Today was going to be a good, long day.

 

<3 <3 <3 </3

 

Afternoon

 

Maverick danced, blade in hand, spiraling on her toes around her target. She leapt, a cat with claws of steel, in vulture's circles around her prey. Her knife darted in and out, stabbing and slicing, rendering her opponent deceased.

 

She was loving training. She was loving the amount of work involved, how hard it was, how fast she needed to be....She loved watching her trainer smile at her, applauding whenever she  dealt out a particularly strong hit. She loved it.

 

She couldn't get enough of it.

 

Janelle watched from the sidelines, working to conceal her envy. She loved watching her partner fight and dance, wishing she could erase her partner's need. Wishing that Maverick's eyes didn't glow whenever her blade slit the throat of the padding target, and that she didn't laugh whenever she watched the target fall to pieces at her feet. She didn't want to know that her lover was a killer at her very core.

 

She just didn't want to know.

 

Still, at least she looked happy. Janelle sighed slightly, longing for the smile on Maverick's face. Even if that smile was dark, and tainted with a deep lust for blood, at least she was happy.

 

Happiness was hard to come by.

 

When Maverick finished training, she went over to her girlfriend, smiling softly. She touched her hand gently, before pressing up close to her. "I'm sorry we fought today, sweetie. I didn't mean for us to get upset.

 

Janelle looked at her quietly, before stepping away. "No. No, don't apologize. It was my fault, just like.....Just like it always is. Maverick, baby...."

 

Maverick shook her head harshly. "No. Don't you dare go there. Don't you dare start blaming yourself. Don't you dare."

 

Janelle smiled vaguely. "But it's always my fault, baby. Always was, always will be. Please don't try and deny it. Please don't."

 

"You're an idiot, girlfriend. You really are. You really think I don't love you more than enough to put up with your bullshit?"

 

"Of course I don't. I don't....."

 

"If you dare say that you don't deserve me, I will be so mad with you."

 

Janelle gave a tiny grin. "I don't. Maverick, you're....."

 

"Some pissed off red-head with a penchant for killing people."

 

"W-Well, I was going to say amazing, but....."

 

"I like my idea better, girlfriend. Let's get going.....We oughta check on the newbie, shouldn't we?"

 

Janelle sighed. "Yeah. We should. I wonder where she is....."

 

<3 <3 <3 </3

 

Meanwhile

 

"You're a dick."

 

"I just want....."

 

"What's best for me?"

 

"Yeah. Duh! I'm your boyfriend. What the hell am I supposed to want?"

 

"Sex , apparently."

 

"Look, I....."

 

"Didn't know I would react this way?"

 

"I thought you...."

 

"Wanted it."

 

"You didn't stop me. What the hell was I supposed to think?"

 

"You weren't supposed to just...jump into it, okay?"

 

"Well, I'm sorry for not understanding, princess."

 

A punch to the gut.

 

"Don't you DARE call me that again."

 

Martin stepped back, wincing and holding his stomach.

 

"What the hell was that for?"

 

"For calling me 'princess'. I don't like that name, Martin."

 

"Well, you....."

 

"I've told you that before. I've told you that multiple times—even recently, too! I think I've told you I hate that name four times since we got here."

 

"No, no.....No, you haven't. i don't even know why oyu don't like that name. Can you please just tell me—"

 

"THAT is the name my...m-my....."

 

Martin shut up instantly when she started stammering, and backed up against the wall. "Oh, god, your dad called you that....."

 

Beatrix nodded, closing her eyes tightly. She started to shake, her mouth bunching up. Without another word, she ran to the door, and down the hall.

 

To the only place where she could think of to find solace.

 

<3 <3 <3 </3

 

Five Minutes Later

 

The door slammed open. Taylor squirmed in his chair, startled. He raised his eyes to the doorway, closing his notebook quickly. As his eyes and mind took in the sight of Beatrix at his door, his hands meticulously unlocked the filing cabinet to his left, inserted his notebook, and relocked it. Beatrix stood there silently, looking at him exhaustedly. "I....I didn't know where else to go."

 

"I'm between sessions. You do not have long, but please—do come in. You appear to be in need of some help."

 

Nodding, Beatrix stepped inside, closed the old oak door behind her, and deposited herself in the chair on the other side of his desk. "I....I suppose you're wondering why I came here."

 

A part of Taylor wanted to tell her the truth, that he had already figured out the reason, but he stayed silent. "Yes, I am. You and I don't seem to have—"

 

"A personal relationship. Which we...which we don't, but I'm not here because I want to make friends with you. I'm here because I....I need help."

 

Taylor nodded, sympathy flickering across his practiced face. "Yes, of course, Beatrix. Anything you need, anything at all. I will be here to help you, I promise."

 

"I....I feel I can trust you, Taylor. I really feel I can. Even though you.....Nevermind. I should get right into this, then. I should...tell you why. Well, I....I guess you know that Martin and I are k-kind of a thing, right?"

 

Taylor blinked inwardly at the stammer, making note of it in his mind. He nodded, though, frowning faintly. "Yes, I am aware. You two seemed to make a very good couple, and I was quite pleased. Still, you seem to feel like there is a problem here. Something wrong that you need help with."

 

"Martin had sex with me."

 

Taylor blinked visibly at that one. A clear, direct answer—and an interesting one. He noted the disconnect—the way she phrased that sentence made it feel like she wasn't a part of the act, like it was just Martin having sex. Like she was an object. "I-I....Really, now? Has this ever happened before?"

 

Beatrix shook her head quickly. "N-No. Martin and I were never...sexual. I-I mean, I didn't even view him as romantic until he...."

 

"Until he came here, and he showed his feelings for you?"

 

Beatrix bobbed her head in response, her long dark hair covering her pale face for a brief moment. Taylor felt a soft longing to reach out, and brush her hair back from her face, but he remained still. He couldn't do that to her. Not....Not yet.

 

"He says I....He says I told him I loved him."

 

"Do you not remember doing this? Is he correct in his perceptions of your feelings for him?"

 

"I remember NOTHING about telling him I loved him. I don't even remember the night where I supposedly said it. I just.....I...."

 

"You don't love him, do you, Beatrix?"

 

She went silent. Of course—he was too direct in his approach. He must slow down, relax, go at her pace. He must not scare her away, not when she had come running to him.

 

He smiled vaguely when she didn't speak, quickly asking a different question instead. "How does he feel for you?"

 

Her response was instant, and sounded very sure. "He loves me, the fool. He truly loves me. I....I don't feel like this for him, but I don't feel like I can say no."

 

"Now....Why is he a fool for loving you?"

 

Beatrix looked up at that, fixing him with a self-deprecating smirk. "Why, because I'm bad news. I'm a seventh-floor girl. I'm a murderess. What else could I be but bad news?"

 

Taylor winced inwardly at her bitterness, cursing himself for not being prepared for her answer. Summoning his intellect, he replied: "What happened to you does not define you."

 

"Cause and effect, love, it's all about cause and effect."

 

He blinked quietly at the inclusion of the word 'love', before deciding it was a path of conversation he wasn't yet ready to enter. He smiled at her answer, making sure he seemed pleased by her intelligent response. "In that, you are correct. However, you DO choose how your past effects you. You choose to let it hurt you, to make you suffer. You can, therefore, choose to make it stop hurting."

 

Beatrix' eyes flashed. "You.....Fool."

 

Taylor feigned surprise and hurt. "Wh-What do you mean? I was just....."

 

"Assuming you knew anything about me? Just because you've got this huge folder on me already—and I KNOW you have one, you certainly have more than enough filing cabinets to warrant it—doesn't mean you know my life. It doesn't mean you know me."

 

She had bite. Fight. Anger. Rebellion. All of it wrapped in a small, self-deprecating package.

 

Wonderful.

 

Still appearing taken aback, he stammered out: "N-No. I suppose it...doesn't. Please. Do, do forgive me. I didn't mean to make assumptions, or hurt you. M-Maybe I could get to know you, then? Instead of just....reading your files."

 

Beatrix relaxed faintly. Good. He'd judged her right—she couldn't stay mad at someone who apologized with desperation in their voice. "Yeah. I guess I'd be okay with that."

 

Taylor smiled hugely, before asking her softly, "Then, can you tell me something?"

 

She nodded warily.

 

"Do you feel that you deserve Martin?"

 

"No."

 

"Why, praytell, do you feel this way?"

 

"Because he is good, and I'm....I'm not."

 

"What part of you is not good?"

 

"Every part. Everything. Every single bit of me isn't good. I'm just not good. Taylor, I'm not good."

 

"Beatrix. Do not use generalizations. Please, do use specifics. They will make our conversation much easier to work in."

 

Beatrix gave a tiny smile. "I'll try, then. Well. I was molested by my dad, who I then killed. I then ran away from my family, eluded police and pursuers, stole things on numerous occasions, and begged for food."

 

"Didn't Martin do much of that when the pair of you were traveling together?"

 

Beatrix grinned faintly. "Yes, but....He didn't kill his father, now did he?"

 

Taylor shrugged. She had him there. "No, I suppose he didn't. So, you don't feel you deserve him because of something you did as a child?"

 

"The ending of a life does NOT fade with time. Just because it's been years, and I was young back then, does not mean that it's okay I ended a life."

 

Taylor sighed inwardly, already foreseeing the difficulties Master John and he would have with her. "Beatrix, your record has been erased. No one knows you killed your father, not now."

 

She shook her head. "Just because no one knows, or no one remembers, doesn't mean it didn't happen."

 

He moved on.

 

"Why did you sleep with Martin?"

 

Perhaps because she was caught off by the directness of his question, she answered honestly and swiftly: "Because I didn't want him to leave me."

 

Taylor tilted his head to the left, studying her closely. He watched how her eyes flicked away from his whenever his gaze neared hers, how a rhythm beat in a vein at the base of her throat, and how her hands clutched and worked at the knees of her pant legs. He examined how her clothes appeared to have been hastily thrown on—poor color choices, rumples and wrinkles. Marks of wear, and uncaring speed. "You didn't want him to leave you. Why?"

 

"Because he's....."

 

"He's so good to you?"

 

"Yes. He's the first real person I've ever known to be so kind."

 

Taylor nodded understandingly. "And, you also felt that—if you didn't sleep with him—he would leave you?"

 

"Yes. I mean....What reason would he have to stay? I've never given him any cause to. I've never told him I loved him, never fought to stay with him. I'm not the one who spent two years trying to find him—he's the one that found me."

 

Catching upon something he had been curious about, he asks: "Why didn't you look for him, Beatrix?"

 

Her eyes flicked down to the floor, examining her black boots. She swallowed, before glancing up at him. "Because I....I was scared, okay? I was scared of how much he cared about me. I was scared of how much he loved me."

 

"Because you didn't feel the same way, or because you couldn't handle it?"

 

"Because I couldn't handle it."

 

Taylor nodded to himself. "I understand. Beatrix, is there anything exactly you wish me to say to you? We have covered a lot of ground conversation-wise, but said nothing."

 

She shook her head. "No. I think I.....I think I have nothing more to say."

 

Just as quickly as  she came, she was gone, sweeping out into the world of the seventh floor.

 

Taylor watched her go, a thoughtful look on his face.

 

She was going to be an interesting case.