Lisa Gardner - Live to Tell

“Aimee didn’t start it,” the MC murmured back. “Not sure what happened. New kid arrived. Greg was escorting him through the unit, when all of a sudden Benny bolted across the common area into a wall. That set off Jimmy, who started tossing chairs, and everything disintegrated from there. I was trying to get Jamal back to his room. Cecille had Jimmy in a bear hug, Greg was trying to get the new kid tucked away. Andrew came out to see what he could do, and Jorge socked him in the eye.”

“NO NO NO NO NOOOOOOOO!”

“Jorge?” Karen asked in shock. “Hit Andrew?”

“Solid right hook. Who knew? Fortunately, Lightfoot is, as his name implies, light on his feet. He started working with Jorge. I returned from tending Jamal and, lo and behold, discovered that during the ruckus, our friend Aimee got her hands on a pair of scissors.”

“How? We keep the craft supplies locked up.”

Ed stopped staring at Aimee long enough to give his boss an exasperated stare. “News flash, Karen, we’re not exactly at the top of our game. Unit’s a little funky, and that was before Benny tried to fly through Sheetrock.”

“BITCH BITCH BITCH. I WILL RIP OFF YOUR EARS. I WILL BEAT YOUR BRAINS. MASH THEM UP. BRAIN SMOOTHIE. ADD BANANAS. YUM YUM YUM.”

“Oh no.” D.D. finally figured out who was screaming. Benny. The small, dark-eyed boy who liked mashing fruit and playing with cars and making airplane noises. She could tell by Karen’s resigned expression that the head nurse already knew, had figured it out way before D.D. A day in the life.

Ed returned his attention to Aimee, whose dark eyes glazed over as she ran the open scissors along a vein in her neck.

“Hey, Aimee,” Ed said, voice sharper now, commanding the girl’s attention. “I know your safety plan requests that you not be touched. You want to be talked through these episodes. But we’re nearing the end of talking here. What are the rules of this unit? We treat ourselves and one another with respect. You’re not showing yourself respect. You’re hurting yourself, and you’re ignoring my orders. You have until the count of ten, Aimee. Then I come in after you.”

More crashing. Fresh screams, not Benny’s but another child’s as the agitation spread from room to room. Aimee calmly lifted her left hand and sliced open her palm. She inspected the wound, then added a second.

“Take her out,” D.D. hissed in Karen’s ear, practically dancing on the balls of her feet with the need for action. “I’ll grab her, you grab the scissors. Come on!”

Karen curled her fingers on D.D.’s forearm and didn’t let go. “The cuts are mostly shallow and will heal. Betray a child’s trust, however, and we lose months of hard work…”

“She’s filleting her own skin-”

“Five, six, seven…” Ed intoned.

“No, no, no,” another child wailed down the hall. “Won’t do it! Can’t make me, YOU FUCKING CUNT!”

“Shhh, shhh, shhh…”

“¡Diablo, Diablo, Diablo!”

D.D. didn’t think she could take it. She needed to tackle Aimee and grab the scissors. She needed to dash down the hall and take down crazy Benny. So many places to be, so many things to do. More screaming. Fresh cries. A dark-eyed girl making happy with craft scissors…

“Eight, nine, ten,” Ed completed.

The MC squared his shoulders, took a determined step forward. Aimee raised the scissors. She held them aloft, right above her heart, and in that instant of time, D.D. knew exactly what the girl was going to do.

D.D. started to cry, “Stop!” Started to dash forward. Aimee’s white hand flashed down, bloody scissors slicing through the air-

“I WILL GET YOU ALL. I WILL KILL EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU. JUST YOU WAIT JUST YOU WAIT JUST YOU WAIT. I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE-”

Ed grabbed Aimee’s wrist. The burly MC twisted the small girl’s arm behind her back as quickly and effectively as any cop. The girl cried out once. The scissors clattered to the floor. Aimee slumped forward, all fight draining from her body.

“I’ll grab bandages,” Karen said.

While down the hall came a fresh burst of screams.

It took an hour to restore the unit. Children were medicated; soothed with music; bribed with Game Boys; placated with small, quiet spaces; and read endless stories. D.D. paced. Banned from the action, treated as the inexperienced outsiders they were, she and her investigative team prowled the classroom end of the unit, trying to read files, but mostly twitching as various screams, crashes, and thuds echoed across the ward.

D.D. couldn’t sit. Neither could Alex. They roamed the lower hallway, feeling as agitated as the kids.

“Negative energy,” Alex told her, hands deep in his front pockets, restlessly jiggling his loose change.

“Fuck you.”

“Just proved my point.”

“Still fuck you.”

“No inner angel?”

“I will strangle you with my bare hands.”

“Again, score one for the shaman. I haven’t felt a vibe this bad since I visited Souza-Baranowski.” The Souza-Baranowski Correctional Center was Massachusetts’s maximum security prison.

“This is what happens at institutions. One person goes crazy, everyone goes crazy.”

“From shared negative energy,” Alex chirped.

“Seriously, I will strangle you.”

“Or we could find a broom closet and have sex.”

D.D. drew up short. Blinked several times. Was genuinely shocked by how instantaneously she wanted to do exactly that. Rip off Alex’s shirt. Dig her fingers into his shoulders. Ride him like a-

Her expression must’ve given her away, because his eyes darkened. “As much as I’d like to take credit for the look on your face, I think it’s score two for the shaman. In the midst of the negative, we are drawn to the positive. Each action calling for an equal level of reaction.”

“Every act of destruction calling for an equal act of creation?”

“Hell yeah. In a broom closet.”

“Deal.”

Or not. The unit doors opened and Danielle Burton strode into the common area. The nurse spotted the blood and stopped short, just as Andrew Lightfoot appeared in the hall.

D.D. motioned to Alex. They drew back quietly and got ready for the show.

“What happened?” Danielle demanded. “Who’s hurt? How bad?”

“Aimee got her hands on a pair of scissors,” Lightfoot provided, walking toward the dark-haired nurse. He came to a halt just a foot away from Danielle, taking a long drink from his water bottle. He studied her intently. She took a noticeable step back.

“Is Aimee okay?” Danielle asked, refusing to meet Lightfoot’s gaze.

“Well enough,” the healer murmured, dropping his water bottle to his side. “The milieu went acute, each child going off like firecrackers. I’d like to say there were many learning opportunities, but I’m not sure. The energy here… it is all wrong. Toxic. I’ve spent hours trying to cleanse the girl’s room. I can’t make headway. I’m too spent for this deep a taint.”

“You were working in Lucy’s room?” Danielle asked sharply.

“At Karen’s request.”

“You didn’t know her.”

“I’ve met her soul on the interplanes. She said to tell you thank you.”

“Stop.” Danielle walked away, setting her bag down on one of the tables. For the first time, she noticed D.D. and Alex, standing at the classroom end of the hallway. “Don’t you have work to do?” Danielle asked them pointedly.

“Doing it,” D.D. replied. She and Alex remained in place.

“How are you feeling, Danielle?” Lightfoot asked.