Facing Truth in the EyesTwo 22 year old women burst through the door to rationalize Ainsley. When had this mutation happened? Weren’t they muscular men?
“It’s alright, Ms. Jones, it’s just the alarm clock.”
“Why am I so old?” Ainsley said with shame obvious in her voice.
“Ainsley, Ainsley, Ainsley. . .” And the petite lady morphed into a butterfly.
And with a gust of cold hair from the parted window, Ainsley woke up in a hot sweat. What was she thinking? Nothing comes in or out of this room except for food. No mirrors, no scripts, nothing. The door to the bathroom was unlocked, and begged for entrance. She scrambled up to her feet with a loss of grace, and rushed into the bathroom. A rusty sink and a polished bathtub with claws greeted her for a cup of tea.
“Have a sit.” Came the voice of a lady.
Ainsley remained silent.
“Well come on, nothing is going to happen with a simple bath.”
“I will take a bath, after I find out who is speaking to me.”
“Who else? There’s no one else in the room besides, you, sink, and I, correct?”
“So. . . The bathtub has a voice?”
“Inside of your head, yes.”
“Well, I suppose a bath would do no harm.”
With a splash, Ainsley hopped into the bathtub spilling rusty water across the floor. An obvious death trap to an unobservant person. Her muscles relaxed, and Ainsley felt peace for the first time in this asylum.
Slowly her head slipped underwater, and her gils came forward. Murky orange water turned to swirling shades of purple and blue, and a school of bright green fish rushed past her head. Ainsley’s hair turned to a dark blue, and vision became clearer. After a couple of minutes of observation, a silky pink Angel Fish slithered with quick grace close to her face, not stopping to look.
“Oh dear! How late I will be!” announced the Angel Fish.
“Where are you going?” Asked Ainsley.
The Angel fish paid no attention to Ainsley as she rushed by. So, with instant decision, Ainsley picked up her feet, and swam like a mermaid after the Angel Fish. Corals surrounded her, disguising themselves as flowers on land. It’s been so long since I’ve seen a single flower, Ainsley thought.
Ainsley’s first personal thought gave her comfort and made everything slightly more dazzling. Life under water was what her life should be. . .
Finally a flash of silvery pink turned her attention towards the Angel Fish with trepidation smeared across his face.
“Hurry, hurry, hurry. Must not be late. Swim, swim, swim.”
Still, the Angel Fish ignored Ainsley, and continued along, in quite the rush. Aromatic water surrounded her, the salt water tasted as if it was candied.
“Ainsley. . .” Sweet sirens called out.
“Follow Herman. . .”
“Who’s Herman?” Asked Ainsley.
“The Angel Fish. . .” Came the Sing-song voice.
Two hands secured around Ainsley’s shoulders, heaving her upward, forbidding the comfort once again. Swirling purple and blue morphed again to murky rust, and sour water filled her mouth. she was yanked across the yellow-stained tiles by her blonde locks of hair. Crimson cuts snaked down Ainsley’s legs, and a salty taste lingered in her mouth from blood and tears.
The frost of the yellow padded room tormented Ainsley. Alone once again, no comfort, no pleasure, no humanity. The doors shut from the cruel tormentor who had stolen her pride and left her alone with nothing but her faint memory of the underwater wonderland she almost dared to call home. . . Even in such little time.
It was far after midnight, and the door to the bathroom remained locked by two mini muscle men. Ainsley sat there, with utter longing remaining in her eyes. Every time the stars sparkled from behind the bars of her window, her eyes stole a sliver of blue back.
Life was damaging now, more than ever. Every three hours, her bathroom break, she had a maid. A slave; her own bondswoman. Her name was Mara.
Mara’s features were cast like a shadow against a stone wall. Her detailed jade eyes showed secrets bountiful. Porcelain skin gave an innocent mask over her hate for the Asylum.
“Ainsley, hurry up. I haven’t got all day. There are some more crazies that need to go to the bathroom.”
“Shut up, Mara. Staff is where the insanity lives.” She said with intended venom.
“You’re the craziest of them all, and you’re well aware.” She rolled her eyes and looked away.
“Why don’t you just let me go to hell?” Ainsley asked.
“Because we’re already in hell.” She said. “It doesn’t get any worse than this.”
“What did you do, to get stuck here?” Ainsley asked in monotone.
“How about you don’t ask me questions about my personal life, and I won’t ask you any about yours.”
She showered in silence.
It doesn’t get any worse than this