Won't Turn Out Right

I kicked aside the splintered half of the chair, out of my path. I collapsed onto the bed and wrapped myself in the sheets.

What did I tell you? Didn't I tell you? I knew this would happen! I knew it! I knew it! You should have listened to me!

I was freezing, straight through to the bone. The chill made me tired and dizzy, sick all over. And, although I was sweating, I was still shivering and convulsing involuntarily.

Wait, where is he? Where did you put him? DID YOU EAT HIM?

I let my eyes drift open and closed. I didn't want to fall asleep, but I can't really tell you why. Blame it on the fever, I suppose.

Get down with the sickness, mother fucker. We had to separate them this morning. They bit me and punched me and licked me and ATE ME!

I wheezed pathetically as I breathed. My breaths were deep and cautious. Slow and meaningful.

I can't go alone. Don't make me go in there all by myself. What if they don't like me? What if they want to EAT ME!

Oh, stop it. Who would want to eat me?

Don't be silly. Everyone wants to eat you! You're delicious! An elephant with a rich peanut sauce.

That's disgusting.

It's the truth.

It's disgusting.

Save it for someone who cares. Who cares? I don't care. You can swim with them, if you'd like, but I forgot to take lessons. When I was a kid I didn't want to swim I didn't want to swim I didn't want to drown and I didn't want to swim or get eaten by a fish or a shark or a jellyfish or a shark. Or a snake. THEY'RE GONNA EAT ME!

My dog told me the same thing. He doesn't like to swim either.

You don't have a dog.

I don't? Oh, you're right. But, I have a goldfish. He doesn't like to sw-

But he stopped talking to you after you forgot to feed him for that weekend.

It wasn't a weekend. It was a day or two. Not a weekend.

You make up excuses and you don't take responsibility for your actions you make a terrible adult. Your moth-

DON'T SAY IT.

Well, we'll never get anywhere not saying anything! I have to say it. Or else you'll never get better. You'll never understand it unless you face it. Face it face down in the dumps. Down in the dumps. Down in the dumps. This doesn't hurt. HAHAHAHAHA!

Stop laughing at me! STOP IT.

Sourire, cherie. If you panic he'll never want to talk to you. He doesn't like crazy people. He won't like you.

Who?

Who? WHO? Who else? The ringmaster. He won't like you because you're crazy.

You're one to talk.... But I've met him already.

Did he like you?

I... I don't remember. I was lost. I couldn't find... I couldn't find... someone. I don't remember. The demons were there... I shouldn't have left the tent. I should never leave the tent. The demons... they... they-

The door was opened, but I forgot to look up at the trespasser. I twitched underneath the sheets, my eyes blinking rapidly and my body shaking uncontrollably. I heard him sigh.

"Kid, you're so pathetic. Did you get sick?" He ignored my art project. I felt the bed sink next to me, but I still refused to acknowledge his presence. He put a hand to my forehead. "I hate sick people. They're disgusting."

Why? Because I'm an elephant?

My eyelids twitched against his hand. I closed them and embraced the warmth of his hand. I sighed and swallowed. My throat was completely dry- scratchy and sore.

"Don't let me die like this." I whispered. I hadn't meant to say it out loud. He smirked.

"Kid, I have absolutely no control over how you die. I can't make any promises. You can't always get what you want." I shut my eyes tighter. I clenched my teeth.

"Who are you to tell me that I can't get what I want when what I want is life and not death and not sickness and I'm not an elephant and I'm not disgusting I'm misunderstood I'm tired and alone and you can't let me die like this not here not now!" He sighed, removing his hand, wiping it quickly on my sheet.

"I'd be lying if I promised to protect you. I'm not the protecting kind, kid. Sick people are weird."

"You've never been sick? Never been tired? Never been hanging on by a fucking thread in the hands of monsters and demons and the ringmaster won't even talk to you for God's sake?" I relaxed my eyelids, leaning forward, falling into his warmth. He ignored my actions.

"For the sake of this conversation, no."

"That's not a real answer."

"What is a real answer?"

"I don't know, but that wasn't it. You don't deserve a do-over, though." He hummed.

"You're right. Stupid girl." He shrugged me off his shoulder, laying me down on the bed. I finally looked into Synyster's deep brown eyes.

"Can I have a glass of water?" He frowned.

"Maybe." We didn't brake eye contact.

"What's your name?"

"Synyster."

"What's your real name?"

"Does it matter?"

"Who the fuck am I gonna tell?"

"Brian. My name is Brian."

"I'm gonna die, aren't I?"

"Keep saying it, and it might just fucking happen."

"Who's room is this?"

"Matt's."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"Will he be angry?"

"Yes."

"Will he hurt me?"

"Yes."

"Will you stop him?"

"No."

"Can I have a glass of water please?"

"...Okay." He turned around and walked out.

The room suddenly felt empty and cold. I felt claustrophobic and cluttered. It was so messy. It was my fault and now I wanted to clean it up. Half of me did and the other half didn't. Another half of me wanted Synyster to come back in so I didn't have to worry about the room or about Matt or about the ringmaster and the peanuts.

I bounced my fingers across the mattress. I poked one of my fingers into a hole burned into the sheets. I slammed the side of my fist into the wall then quickly brought it back down onto the mattress. When Synyster lifted my hand up his skin was cold, which I found just as soothing as before. He shoved the half empty half full glass into my hand. I gulped it down quickly.

"Say thank you." I ignored him at first, finishing off the rest of the water.

"Thanks. I need more." He took the glass back and sighed in frustration.

"Later. You're lucky I even gave you that, stupid girl." He picked up a chair that had been thrown to the other side of the room, placed it in front of the bed and sat down. "I didn't tell him yet, so he's going to be in for quite a surprise, isn't he? I think he was the only one in the house who didn't hear you trash the room. Lucky break, kid."

"Why do you call me kid?"

"Cause... I don't know. It's just a habit."

"But, why'd you call me kid in the first place? I'm 22, not 13." He hummed but didn't answer. "Is it a control thing? I hate control things. Control is for crazy people. I'm not crazy. Just sick. Sick and tired. But, I'm not a kid and I'm not crazy. And... yeah." He raised an eyebrow and frowned.

"Not crazy." He was quiet for a minute. "What? Do you ever understand half the shit that comes out of your mouth?" I matched his frown thoughtfully.

"About 51%... roughly. Usually. Most of the time. Unless it's a weekend. Like with my fish. His name was Spike. He was one of those Japanese fighting fish and he was red but he had a tumor on his eye. He hung in there for quite a while but then he died and my dad flushed him and I cried and my mom bought me a new one." It was silent again. He sighed.

"Okay." I closed my eyes again.

"Okay."

"You're stupid."

"You too."

"Are you going to sleep now?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"No."

"Do you really want that glass of water?"

"Yes."

"Too bad."

"Could be worse." It was silent and my mind finally drifted off.