The Man in the Iron Mask
Chapter Three
It had been a week, a single week, and already I was in way over my head. I’d forgotten the basic details of one Loki Laufeyson, and was relying on bad press coverage for any hint of mental illness he might have had. There was definitely something wrong with him… I just couldn’t recall having read it anywhere. I wanted to ask Sarah, but I knew she couldn’t, and wouldn’t tell me anything. Instead, she’d demand I told her what was going on. I couldn’t do that. Just thinking about it made my face heat up.
I’d been doing my job, as I should have been, when again, Loki got… upset. I say “upset” but really, he was feeling beyond any emotion I’d ever experienced. He had me hard against the tiles with his cold hands wrapped around my throat, my feet off the ground… Things went a little black after that, though I do remember that stare. I involuntarily shook as the image again returned to my mind. I had bruises from that but luckily it was winter; a scarf would look totally normal. I felt like a teenager, hiding all her hickeys, though this was much more sinister, I guess.
It wasn’t that I was afraid to mention the incident; it wasn’t that at all. I saw in that moment as I regained consciousness those tears that had streaked his face, and the look of relief that washed over him as he saw that I got back up off the wet floor. He was quick to scramble to the mirror and write a rushed “sorry” in capital letters, and I didn’t know what to think. Had it finally hit him that I wasn’t checking him out as he showered? I figured that the only reason he’d tried anything was because again, I had no armed guards with me. They were unreliable at the best of times.
I wasn’t sure if he regretted what might have happened, or if he dreaded what would have happened to him had I actually died. Though thinking back, he hadn’t done nearly enough to kill me, and I was sure he could have. Funnily enough, since that little incident, he’d been much easier to deal with. He was no longer buzzing me at 4am to use the bathroom, and mornings with him were now bliss. He couldn’t have been aware, but I had 2 other patients that also needed my full attention. All I ever did was supervise and walk people to places, but it could be a hard job. All my other patients talked, and a psychotic murderer wasn’t something I wanted in my ear 24/7. I’d taken this job, sure, but it was my job. This was not my life.
I was looking forward to my few weeks off in a month’s time, because I’d certainly need them. I wondered who might be given the task of Loki then, but I didn’t dwell on it much. He’d still be my burden when I got back. I wondered how long his treatment might take. So far, he’d not tried anything that might have had him stay any longer. I was worried that he knew this. He had quite a comfortable position here, and wherever else he’d been locked up couldn’t have been this nice. He was even allowed out into the garden once every few days. He really liked those afternoons.
“Loki, it’s lights out.” He turned his head to face me, his hair turning with him. I imagined that he might have been smiling but with that mask, I really couldn’t be sure. He beckoned for me to come inside and after a moment’s hesitation, I quickly checked the hallway. There was no one else wandering about, so I quickly snuck inside to see what he wanted. When I got to his side as he lay on his bed, he turned to sit down and pointed out the window. I squatted down to look in the direction of his index finger, but there was nothing particularly special about the night sky. He hadn’t even been pointing towards the moon.
His cold hand gently moved my scarf as I had been looking out the window, but curiosity had be staying still when my first instinct had been to fly across the room in something of terror. I felt as his fingers ran along the place I knew a bruise to be, and found that he looked away from me, back out the window to exactly where he’d been pointing. He looked to be in great pain over perhaps a memory, or an image. Something was bothering him, but I wasn’t allowed to ask. If I asked, he’d have to write it down, and I’d have to keep that piece of paper and explain why I’d been asking him personal questions. That was not my job. Sarah had that job and apparently, he wasn’t all that fond of talking about himself, anyway.
His hand again reached for me, this time tilting my head towards his. With one hand he pointed out at the sky, before placing it over his heart. I knew then that it was a memory of something he dearly missed, and I guess I could somewhat relate. I hadn’t seen my own friends or family in two years since moving to America for this job, and never found the money to make the trip back over to Europe. This break would be different, I thought to myself. I had been officially inspired to somehow find that money.
I’d been doing my job, as I should have been, when again, Loki got… upset. I say “upset” but really, he was feeling beyond any emotion I’d ever experienced. He had me hard against the tiles with his cold hands wrapped around my throat, my feet off the ground… Things went a little black after that, though I do remember that stare. I involuntarily shook as the image again returned to my mind. I had bruises from that but luckily it was winter; a scarf would look totally normal. I felt like a teenager, hiding all her hickeys, though this was much more sinister, I guess.
It wasn’t that I was afraid to mention the incident; it wasn’t that at all. I saw in that moment as I regained consciousness those tears that had streaked his face, and the look of relief that washed over him as he saw that I got back up off the wet floor. He was quick to scramble to the mirror and write a rushed “sorry” in capital letters, and I didn’t know what to think. Had it finally hit him that I wasn’t checking him out as he showered? I figured that the only reason he’d tried anything was because again, I had no armed guards with me. They were unreliable at the best of times.
I wasn’t sure if he regretted what might have happened, or if he dreaded what would have happened to him had I actually died. Though thinking back, he hadn’t done nearly enough to kill me, and I was sure he could have. Funnily enough, since that little incident, he’d been much easier to deal with. He was no longer buzzing me at 4am to use the bathroom, and mornings with him were now bliss. He couldn’t have been aware, but I had 2 other patients that also needed my full attention. All I ever did was supervise and walk people to places, but it could be a hard job. All my other patients talked, and a psychotic murderer wasn’t something I wanted in my ear 24/7. I’d taken this job, sure, but it was my job. This was not my life.
I was looking forward to my few weeks off in a month’s time, because I’d certainly need them. I wondered who might be given the task of Loki then, but I didn’t dwell on it much. He’d still be my burden when I got back. I wondered how long his treatment might take. So far, he’d not tried anything that might have had him stay any longer. I was worried that he knew this. He had quite a comfortable position here, and wherever else he’d been locked up couldn’t have been this nice. He was even allowed out into the garden once every few days. He really liked those afternoons.
“Loki, it’s lights out.” He turned his head to face me, his hair turning with him. I imagined that he might have been smiling but with that mask, I really couldn’t be sure. He beckoned for me to come inside and after a moment’s hesitation, I quickly checked the hallway. There was no one else wandering about, so I quickly snuck inside to see what he wanted. When I got to his side as he lay on his bed, he turned to sit down and pointed out the window. I squatted down to look in the direction of his index finger, but there was nothing particularly special about the night sky. He hadn’t even been pointing towards the moon.
His cold hand gently moved my scarf as I had been looking out the window, but curiosity had be staying still when my first instinct had been to fly across the room in something of terror. I felt as his fingers ran along the place I knew a bruise to be, and found that he looked away from me, back out the window to exactly where he’d been pointing. He looked to be in great pain over perhaps a memory, or an image. Something was bothering him, but I wasn’t allowed to ask. If I asked, he’d have to write it down, and I’d have to keep that piece of paper and explain why I’d been asking him personal questions. That was not my job. Sarah had that job and apparently, he wasn’t all that fond of talking about himself, anyway.
His hand again reached for me, this time tilting my head towards his. With one hand he pointed out at the sky, before placing it over his heart. I knew then that it was a memory of something he dearly missed, and I guess I could somewhat relate. I hadn’t seen my own friends or family in two years since moving to America for this job, and never found the money to make the trip back over to Europe. This break would be different, I thought to myself. I had been officially inspired to somehow find that money.
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