14. Ripley
CHAPTER 14
RIPLEY
HATE ME NOW – RYAN CARAVEO
Time passes differently when you’re running for your life.
It’s broken flashes.
Disjointed. Rapid.
Staring out the window at the dreary, grey sky hanging over the hotel, I breathe a matching cloud onto the glass and watch the condensation drip down. The droplets fall slowly, sluggish and tiresome.
It’s a total contrast to the energy burning me from inside out. I thought it would’ve fizzled out after several sleepless nights in the crappy hotel we moved to. That usually does the trick. But not this time around.
The door beeps on the other side of the double room before it clicks open. I recognise Lennox’s thudding footsteps. He stomps around like he’s determined to shake the earth with his weight alone.
“That son of a bitch turns my stomach,” he hisses as the door slams shut.
I turn around to check him over. There’s a hollow ache in my stomach that triples at the sight of the food bag clutched in his hands. Lennox offers me a tense smile, pulling his healing facial cut.
He heads for the small table opposite the bathroom. “We’re lining his fucking pockets just to keep his mouth shut.”
Focused on the newspaper clasped in his hands, Xander lounges on one of the double beds. He spares Lennox a dismissive look over the lines of typed ink that have held his attention for the past hour.
“We’re paying over the odds in cash for the hotel’s discretion. No IDs and no questions asked. Suck it up, Nox.”
“The owner is rinsing us for every goddamn penny!”
Xander shrugs. “We can cover it.”
“With more stolen cash?” he retorts.
“If you’d like to offer an alternative solution, be my guest.”
With that, Xander disappears back behind his apparently fascinating newspaper. The man’s living on a different planet if he thinks the answers to all our problems are printed in that thing.
The media is still acting like we’re the bad guys for inciting the riot. All the limited coverage we’ve seen has been unfairly biased. Apparently, unstable patients overtook Harrowdean. Unprovoked and with the intent to cause maximum destruction.
What’s worse is the fact that people are actually swallowing it. Even with rumours of medical malpractice and abuse running rampant. The narrative that we’re the instigators is a more palatable truth.
There’s been no mention of Rick, Rae or the others in the media. The official public line is that all remaining detainees in Harrowdean have been secured and transferred elsewhere. I’m sure Rick didn’t make it that far, though. Like us, he knows too much.
Lennox drops the paper bag on the table. “I know we had to move on at some point, but holing up so close to the city feels like an unnecessary risk. We should pack up and leave.”
“Derby is twenty miles away.” Xander remains focused on the newspaper.
“Close enough! What if we’re recognised?”
“By a greedy hotel owner? Or his half-deaf cleaner?” he harrumphs. “Doubtful.”
I turn back to face the window. They’ve spent the better part of the last week bickering. As the days have passed, it’s been harder for me to decipher exactly what about. Something to do with a phone call, I think.
The running shower halts in the attached bathroom. Raine must be nearly done. He’s having a rough day, barely able to keep food or water down between fitfully sleeping.
“How is he?” I hear Lennox ask.
“Spent an hour throwing up. I’ve located a public library with decent computers. So I can forge a paper prescription slip given enough time to fabricate the details and a false ID.”
“You can get that stuff on prescription?”
“I’ve done some research. Rehab patients take it in the community too. I should be able to make something convincing enough to get refills.”
Tuning them out, I focus on my breathing. In and out. Chest expanding. Oxygen spreading. If I break the process down in my head, I can fool myself that I’m still the one in control.
My hands shake at my sides, shattering the illusion as quickly as it’s able to form. Too much is going on. My defences are shot to pieces right now. I can’t control the haywire thoughts invading my mind like I usually can.
I’ve been turning over what superpower I wish I had for the last ten minutes or so. If I could go incognito, I could slip past the men eyeing me like a ticking bomb and run free. Invisibility would be a cool power.
It would feel so good to run as fast as my little legs can carry me. Strip off my clothes. Sprint into the threatening rain. Or perhaps oncoming traffic. I can see the main road to the city from here.
I wonder if my incognito powers would kick in to stop me from becoming a human pancake if I were struck. I’d like to try—I bet they would. Not even fast-moving cars can slow me down.
Don’t they know who I am? I’m Harrowdean’s whore. The ultimate stooge. I’m untouchable. Invincible. Not even a high-speed, fatal crash could stop me from running for the hills right now.
“Rip!”
A touch on my shoulder is an unwelcome shock. I jump out of my skin, quickly falling into fight-or-flight. Grabbing the paw-like hand, I tug hard, throwing my assailant forward.
They don’t even fight back, allowing me to floor them in record time. How dare they touch me? I don’t belong here. Not in this shitty room. Not with these people. Not on the run. This wasn’t the plan.
What was the plan?
I can’t quite remember.
“Ripley! Hey!”
“I’m invisible!” I roar angrily. “You can’t see me!”
Kneeling on the cheap hotel carpet, Lennox peers up at me with concern. “It’s me, Rip.”
Blinking rapidly, I stare down at him. Lennox Nash. Funny to think he scared me once. Both he and Xander did. I’m not sure why since I can turn invisible. Perhaps if I try hard enough right now, I’ll disappear in front of him.
“Talk to me. What’s going on in your head?”
“Can you still see me?” I ask in frustration.
Lennox blinks, still on his knees. “Uh, yes. I can.”
“Goddammit!” I tug at my hair. “Why isn’t it working?”
His newspaper discarded, Xander stands up to approach us. “Why isn’t what working, Ripley?”
“I hate it when you look at me like that,” I snap at him. “I’m not a zoo animal.”
Eyebrows drawn together, Lennox stands up. “No one is looking at you like that, baby. You’re not eating or sleeping. What’s going on?”
At the mention of food, an embarrassingly loud growl erupts from my stomach. I slap a hand over the offending organ. Why is it making such a fuss? I ate… hell, a few days ago. Maybe?
It doesn’t matter. I don’t have time to eat or sleep while I’m plotting my grand escape. I’ll never master my new superpower if I’m too busy resting like they’re always insisting upon.
“Have you ever seen her like this?” Lennox whispers.
Xander shakes his head. “Not to this extent.”
“What do we do?”
“No idea. I’m not a damn psychiatrist.”
See, this is exactly what I’m talking about. I may as well be invisible. They’re talking about me as if I am. Unless… Has it finally happened? I look down at myself, pinching my tattooed forearm to check.
“Stupid!” I hiss impatiently.
Someone is touching me again—Xander. Cursing him out, I attempt to peel his fingers from my bicep. He’s trying to direct me over to the bed. I don’t want to lay in that again.
“Don’t touch me!”
“Ripley,” he scolds. “You need to rest.”
“I’m not tired. I need to keep working!”
“On what?” Lennox follows us.
“My superpowers, obviously. You can still see me. How can I disappear if you can see me? I have to disappear!”
Lennox’s shoulders slump as he turns back to his best friend. “I think we need to forge more prescriptions. How did we not see this coming?”
“I did.” Xander exhales. “The signs have been there for a while.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“We’ve been a little busy running for our lives, Nox.”
I’m still trapped by his grip. It feels like he’s scalding me. When I pull free, Xander bands his arms around me, cinching me tight like a straitjacket. I’m strong-armed, bucking and protesting, over to the bed.
“Xan, I don’t think?—”
“I’m trying to get her to rest,” he justifies.
“You shouldn’t physically restrain her, though!”
“Do you have a better idea? I’m all ears.”
The bathroom door opens on their continued arguing. Spotting Raine, damp and redressed, I cry in relief. I know he’ll understand. Maybe he’ll help me practise my invisibility.
Raine is safe. Warm. Familiar. He never hurt me like these two did. I didn’t have to forgive him because he’s been nothing but genuine and respectful towards me since day one.
“What happened?” He tilts his head, listening closely.
Lennox clears his throat. “We’re concerned Ripley’s having a manic episode.”
“Help me, Raine!” I blurt out in panic. “He’s trying to make me sleep. I don’t want to sleep.”
One hand outstretched to feel for obstacles, Raine follows the sound of my whimpers. I sob in pure relief when he eases me from Xander’s imprisonment and wraps me in a warm, citrus-scented hug.
“It’s okay, guava girl. No one is going to make you sleep if you don’t want to.”
Arms thrown around his neck, I break down in hysterical tears. Raine lets me cling to him, covering his fresh shirt in moisture. If I could share my invisibility, I’d extend it to him. He can run with me.
“What were you thinking?” he mutters above my lowered head. “She needs to feel safe and supported. We have no idea what’s going on inside her head right now.”
“I’m trying to help!” Xander booms.
“By scaring her? Great plan.”
“I just thought…”
“No, Xan. She’s a person. You can’t take her choice away even if you think it’s for the best.”
I’m grateful when they all shut up. The frenzied voices yelling in my head are making it difficult to focus.
“Come on,” Raine coaxes, clutching me tightly. “Did you know I had panic attacks for months after I lost my sight?”
“N-No,” I stammer.
“My sensitive hearing made it feel like the entire world was screaming at me. The trauma centre assigned me a therapist. He told me to picture a giant ocean wave crashing over me when I was panicking.”
“I’m not… This isn’t… I’m not panicking! I just don’t want to rest!”
He rubs up and down my back. “I know. You don’t have to. But I do want you to try and calm down.”
His fresh scent is seeping into me, drawing me into the dream of a warm summer’s day on the beach. Sipping orange juice and dipping my toes into the salty ocean. Content. Invisible. Free.
“The waves I imagine sparkle in the sunlight,” Raine murmurs soothingly. “And I sometimes picture dolphins dipping in and out of them.”
“Dolphins?” I whimper.
“Why not? It’s my imagination. You can picture a massive pink unicorn swimming along if that’s what you want. Give it a try.”
Ignoring the sounds of heavy breathing and moving footsteps behind us, I desperately yank together my mind’s frayed strands. I can do this for Raine. It’s just a silly game.
Hands fisting in his t-shirt, I screw my eyes shut. The blackness of my closed lids fades as my vision takes shape. Shimmering, aqua waves, topped with a light-white froth. Gleaming sunshine. Squalling seagulls.
“Let the wave roll over you,” Raine encourages just loud enough for me to hear. “Feel the water. The bubbles. The current carrying you along.”
“W-What if I drown?”
“You won’t. It’s perfectly safe to let yourself bob along, floating on the water. Let it crash over you and wash everything else away.”
The sobs ripping out of me slowly begin to ease as I picture calm waves falling over me. The water feels like silk. It kisses my skin and warms my bones, pushing out the intense energy that’s been tormenting me.
“That’s it.” Raine strokes the back of my head. “Deep breaths. Did you see the unicorn yet?”
“A whale,” I breathe out unsteadily. “Beluga.”
“Okay, we can work with that. Keep going.”
His hand moves rhythmically over my spine. Each stroke mirrors the waves that have filled my head, swelling up and undulating with the swirling current. White, pearlescent whales pop their head up and squeal.
I’m not sure how long we stand there for, lost in our heads and ignoring the entire world. Long enough for terror to set in when I realise how out of control I’m feeling right now.
“I… don’t f-feel so good,” I hiccup.
“I know.” Raine blows out a long breath. “Tell us what you need.”
“I want to go. We have to run.”
“We’re going to keep you safe, Rip. I promise.”
No. Nobody can.
The sound of the other two talking filters back into my awareness. They’re exchanging urgent whispers elsewhere in the hotel room.
“How long will it take you to forge a prescription? And do you know what she takes?”
“Of course, I do,” Xander responds. “Stay here.”
“Take a phone. Be careful.”
Hearing Xander grab something and leave, I immediately pull away from Raine. He can’t leave. I didn’t mean it. I’ll share my invisibility with him—he shouldn’t go out alone. It isn’t safe.
“Rip!” Lennox calls out. “I brought something back I think you’ll like.”
Skidding to a halt, I look between him and the door. “But, Xander…”
“He’ll be back soon,” Raine rushes to assure me. “I smell food. Are you hungry?”
I shake my head, reluctantly turning away from the door. Lennox has started emptying the bag he brought back, laying out takeaway cartons. That gnawing in my belly is back. Tiny ravenous butterflies.
“Come and eat something,” he encourages.
“I don’t have time to eat!”
“Then I can’t show you the other thing I got.” Lennox raises an eyebrow. “Food, Rip. I need you to eat something.”
Tiptoeing closer, I follow Raine over to the table. “What’s the other thing?”
“Something that will help. But food first.”
“Come sit with us,” Raine adds with a smile.
They both sit down, passing plastic cutlery between them before digging into their food. The salty, savoury scents assault my nose. Spices. Herbs. Something rich and fragrant. The butterflies are going berserk now.
“Mmm.” Raine chews his mouthful. “Sure we can’t tempt you, Rip?”
I stare at them, conflicted.
“This is so good,” he continues with exaggerated enthusiasm. “We’ve been living off crap for so long, I forgot what real food tastes like.”
“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Lennox responds, though he keeps an eye on me.
I’ve inched within touching distance of a carton. I can see herb-studded rice and a vibrant sauce with chunks of meat. My mouth waters. All the fizzing energy that’s distracted me narrows in on that carton.
Nudging a plastic fork closer, Lennox moves it to the edge of the table. I have my hands on the carton and the fork in my mouth before I can draw a breath. Exotic flavours explode on my tongue.
“S’good,” I moan.
Lennox looks down at his food, smiling to himself.
Finishing in record time, I snag a few triangles of bread then move back to the window to munch in peace. Their attention in the past few days has been suffocating. It’s why I wanted to disappear in the first place.
The sound of eating dissolves as I zone back out. The clouds have broken now. Big, fat raindrops hammer down from the sky. It obscures the busy road running alongside the budget hotel.
A woman with auburn hair rushes to safety from the falling rain, holding a soaked magazine over her head. The bright-red waves linger in my mind, taking me back to our final moments inside Harrowdean.
Is Rae alive?
Did she make it out?
The bread in my mouth turns to ash. I abandoned her. All of them. People I hurt to bolster my own position. People I equipped to hurt themselves. Rae deserves to be free, not me. She’s the innocent one.
“Ripley?”
Lennox stops next to me without touching me this time. He peers at my face, a frown forming between his dark-brown eyebrows.
“You’re crying again.”
I numbly touch my cheek, finding it wet. “I don’t deserve to be invisible.”
“What’s that?”
“That’s why my superpowers aren’t working. The world wants me to be punished for what I did in Harrowdean. It won’t let me disappear.”
“Oh, Rip.” He shakes his head. “Can I touch you?”
When I don’t reject him, Lennox moves closer. He clasps my cheek in his huge, calloused hand, the rough skin making my face itch. His thumb travels through my falling tears in a wide arc.
“You’ve been punished enough,” he whispers emphatically. “Just being locked up in there was a punishment. You did what you had to. The world could never begrudge you that.”
“But… I left Rae behind.”
His gaze fractures with sympathy. “You barely escaped with your life. That’s a bit different.”
Eyes closing, I lean into his touch. It feels more welcome this time. I know it’s Lennox. Not the Lennox that exists in my memories, but the Lennox I recently discovered. Protective. Loyal. Firm but gentle when needed.
“Now, I can’t help with this superpower issue.” He strokes a thumb over my parted lips. “But I have something that may take your mind off it. Want to come see?”
I nod, reopening my eyes. “Okay.”
He releases me to take my hand. Raine still sits at the table, surrounded by their empty takeaway cartons. Lennox guides me into his vacated chair as he locates the backpack he also brought back.
“Found a small art shop on the walk back to the hotel,” he explains while reaching inside. “It’s been a while, right? I heard this helps you cope with stuff.”
Lennox stacks two sketchbooks, a pack of charcoal pencils and a miniature watercolour set with sealed brushes in front of me. For several astonished seconds, I just gape. It’s been so long since I saw paint or brushes.
“These are for me?”
“Well, yeah.” He shrugs, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. “If they’re not right… I can go back.”
With still-shaking hands, I pick up the watercolours, clicking the tin open to inspect the colours. The familiar scent of paint feels like walking into my childhood home and accepting a perfume-scented hug from my mum.
Tears well back up. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Reckon you could show me some of those famous skills while we wait for Xander?” he requests, locating a bottle of water to fill a glass. “I haven’t seen much of your art before.”
Flipping open the sketchpads, I run my fingertips over the paper. It’s good quality, thick and well-grained for watercolour work. The charcoals are all perfectly sharpened. He chose these supplies thoughtfully.
“Just like old times in the studio.” Raine laughs before quickly sobering. “God, I miss my violin. I really hope she survived the riot.”
Lennox takes a seat, pushing cartons out of the way. “We’ll get you another.”
“Not the same. She was perfect.”
Ignoring their conversation, I dip the flat brush into the water he poured and begin mixing colours. Just seeing the brilliant swirls kickstarts the creative fever that always sets in when I sit down to paint.
It’s a living, breathing thing, stirring deep inside my gut. The world just fades away. I’ve never felt more at peace than when I’m creating. In these moments, I can control the emotions running rampant in me.
I test each brush and colour, familiarising myself with the equipment before sketching an outline with a thin charcoal. The image comes out of nowhere.
My hand steadies with each stroke and flick. The excruciating energy that’s kept me on the verge of a breakdown since we escaped pulls tight inside me. I’m uncoiling it, taking back control from the violent force and stretching it to breaking point.
Vivid blacks. Deep, burnished greens. I mix red and blue to form bubbling, purple storm clouds around the landscape that’s spilling from my brush. Using my pinkie finger, I blend the paint to create the perfect, fluffy shapes.
The persistent ache in my neck tells me hours have passed when I finally sit up, looking down at the scene I’ve crafted. It’s not the image I thought I was painting. Somewhere along the way, it changed.
When I look at Lennox and Raine, both slumped in their chairs, I realise I’m no longer shaking. I can breathe again. Think again. The coil has snapped and withered, leaving me to float back down.
I push the sketchpad over to Lennox so he can take a look. He picks it up, his expression neutral as he studies the scene closely for several long seconds.
“What is it?” Raine asks curiously.
Sliding the sketchpad back to me, Lennox keeps quiet to let me answer. I look back down at the watercolour sketch. Stormy, threatening skies. Smoking ruins. The destruction entombed in a woodland sarcophagus.
I’ve recreated the institute we fled. Harrowdean Manor in all its grandiose monstrosity—stained glass, gothic stone, the wrought-iron gates and ivy-wrapped crest pronouncing the letters HM.
Only the manor no longer stands.
Harrowdean has been demolished.
I refocus on Raine. “The future.”