Easy Is the Descent

It was a week of eating with Tarra and Frank; a week of seeing them around in group therapy and in creative courses. Heaven didnt think that gluing macaroni noodles to construction paper was all that creative, but what did she know.

Obviously she was crazy.

Frank and Tarra were talking about music again, their faces nearly pressed together.

"All I'm saying is Iron Maiden," Frank said, twirling his hands around his head.

Tarra laughed.

"And all I'm saying is AC/DC... For gods sake, stop fighting!" Tarra was shooting looks at the spot of table to the right of Frank's elbow. "Anyway," she said, "And Metallica, The Black Album? Yum."

"I love you," Frank said laughing.

Heaven was staring at Gerard. She had found herself looking at him a lot in the last week. He was always at the same table.

Alone.

Usually he would sit there with his breakfast or lunch. He never ate the food, just the desert that came with it.

It was no wonder he was so pale and skinny. He was in a large black sweater and black pants, gloves on his hands, scarf around his neck, hat covering his head. His dark hair was matted and greasy.

Not that Heaven could complain. She had only bathed once more since the sponge incident.

She was in a long black sleeve dress that reached the floor. No skin was showing and her hair was pulled into a ponytail. It was the same dress she had worn to her parents funerals. It had been one of the only things she herself had packed for the trip to the institute.

He never glanced up so she never turned her attention from him unless Tarra and Frank talked to her. She was growing fond of the pair, for thats what they were. They were damn near impossible to separate, except at bedtime.

Sometimes Nell and Minnie would eat with them if they had to be up early in the morning. But most days it was just those two and Heaven.

But Gerard, he would just sit there, drawing on his paper, coloring with markers and pencils. His tongue between his teeth, his brow furrowed.

After three days of staring at him Tarra and Frank took notice of Heavens lack of attention and began teasing her.

"Look who has a crush," Tarra sang.

Frank did his own rendition of the K-i-s-s-i-n-g song, including a line where they took meds together and shared a straight jacket.

It felt very much like high school and very much normal.

Finally Tarra sent her over to invite him to be sociable.

Heaven would have asked how the hell she was supposed to do that when she couldn't talk but she didn't. She just stumbled to his table and sat across from him.

When he finally looked up at her a weird look crossed his eyes. Heaven didn't know what to think. Maybe he was someone who deserved to be here. Truly deserved it; maybe he killed somebody.

If Tarra knew how many times Heaven said maybe in her mind she would have thought her nickname more fitting than she already thought it.

He sat his marker down and Heaven peered at his drawing. It was squiggles, though she thought she could see a picture in the background.

Maybe a gun.

She rubbed at her eyes. Maybe she was a killer and this was a dream. She was really here because she killed him and society couldn't let her do that. And Tarra and Frank were delusions.

Heaven squeezed her eyes shut again. She opened them and he was still staring at her questioningly.

His curious amber eyes met her hazel ones and she drug in a slow breath. She pointed to him and then to the table where her friends sat. He cocked his head to the side as if he didn't understand her. She blinked up at him. She tried again.

She pointed to herself, then to him before pointing to the table two over. Frank and Tarra waved. He shrugged before picking his marker back up.

Heaven went back to her table, feeling the need to cry. She sat her head on the table and closed her eyes. She cursed what ever it was that kept her from talking.

She had tried, once.

She had opened her mouth and tried. Nothing had come out. Just air, and her throat had been raw for a week. No, it was better not to talk.

~~~~

The next day at breakfast Tarra and Frank took it upon themselves to make friends with Gerard. They sat at his table.

He ignored them.

Heaven shifted uncomfortably before Tarra reached out and pulled her down. It was the first touch Heaven had allowed in their short relationship. When anyone else tried to touch her a tranquilizer was usually needed.

Heaven ate her toast plain that day.

When he finally looked up at the group Tarra and Frank began to talk. They finished each others sentences and introductions.

"That's Tarra--," Frank said, pointing to his insane friend.

"--I see purple people. And that's Frank.--"

"--I'm suicidal--."

"--Or he was at least--"

"--And this
is May."

"We don't know--"

"--her real name--"

"--Just the last--"

"She doesn't talk--"

"--But she's nice."

Heaven blushed.

She wasn't sure how you could know that someone was nice if youd never heard them speak, but if Tarra said it, it had to be true. Tarra seemed like one of those people who knew everything through experience.

She threw her arm around Heaven. Surprisingly Heaven allowed it. She even rested her head on her friend's shoulder. Frank started to tell the group a story about his old high school and how he had once peed in all the football players helmets before a big game.

Tarra laughed loudly while Heaven smiled. She watched Gerards hands move over the page in long strokes as he virtually ignored them. Then he looked into her eyes and smirked. She looked away.

"Heaven!" she stiffened at the voice.

He was here.

Heaven shuddered at the thought.

She closed her eyes, her head down. When she finally turned to look at him his smile sent chills up her spine.

"That's your name?" Tarra whispered to her as she rose to go to him; her legal guardian, her godfather; her parent's best friend and her tormentor.

She led him down the hall to her room. He shut the door closed behind them. Heaven could hear the door latch in her mind hours after he had left her lying on her floor in a crumpled heap. She pulled herself into a ball and wished for sleep.

It didn't come. Even here she wasn't free of him.

~~~

At dinner she sat gingerly down next to Tarra and Frank.

"Hallo, Heaven!" Tarra said happily, "That is your name, right?"

Heaven nodded, poking at her salad. Frank and Tarra started to tell her about lunch after she left.

"You should have seen it Heaven," Frank started, grinning.

"Carter's drugs wore off and he went insane," Tarra finished.

"It took three guards--"

"--and two sedatives--"

"-- to stop him."

She companionably wrapped her arm around Heavens shoulder.

She snapped, throwing her salad at her friend.

They looked on in disbelief as she threw a fit, throwing anything she could get her hands on.
Her plastic cup bounced off the wall above Tarra's head as Heaven jumped up. She could hear them coming for her. She was silently screaming, her mouth open.

Even Gerard was watching now, black marker clenched tightly in his fist.

Their eyes met, his wide in anger.
She had one second to wonder why he was upset.
Then she was kicking out as some ones arms wrapped around her chest. She was kicking and scratching, clawing at them as they tried to hold her down.

The prick of the needle was almost welcome. It may have only taken one sedative to put her out, but it took three security guards and two male nurses to hold her down on the ground while she struggled until finally her eyes closed and her breathing steadied.

She woke up in a padded room. She willed herself to sleep.

She slept most of the week that she was locked in the solitary room. There was nothing else to do.

After the second day in the room, which she spent smashing herself into the walls, she spent the remainder of the week lying on the padded floor counting the creases in the padded walls and ceiling before succumbing to sleep.

It was the best rest she'd gotten in two months.

When she was finally let out they forced her into the shower. It almost took another fight, another sedative, but Heaven finally, willingly stepped under the shower head. Her hair was longer than she liked it, and her clothes were baggier than she remembered.

It was lunch time by the time she was allowed alone.