Epilogue
HI, FRANK
Baz
Iwas wearing nothing but tight boxer briefs as I swung Frank around in my room, a smooth dance between friends—nothing gay. Although suddenly, I wondered why that would matter. My fingers gently grazed his cheek, feeling the texture of his skin against mine.
He wasn’t a very lively dance partner, but I was willing to forgive him, considering Frank was a corpse. I purred Dean Martin’s Sway.
“Shut the fuck up!” Gary wailed through the wall. He secretly loved it. I had a feeling.
I swung Frank around in a sweeping waltz—or at least what I imagined one might look like—passing in front of the heavily barred window.
Through the thick iron and reinforced chicken wire, I saw a white van pull up to the building.
Frank was quickly dropped from my hold and crumpled to a dead flop on the ground.
I stepped on his face so that I could press my cheek into the window bars. Frank didn’t mind.
Considering I was the only person with a window in this place, I knew I was the only one witnessing what was going on outside. One of the many benefits of being the deadliest thing in this fucked up little asylum was all the little allowances I got.
The van’s backdoors burst open, and two orderlies pushed a passed-out girl from the back. She was strapped up in a straitjacket and anchored to a utility dolly. It was very Hannibal Lecter. Especially since they did indeed have a mask strapped to her mouth as if she’d bite their faces off.
My fingers wrapped around and gripped the bars, my gaze straining through a good half-inch of bulletproof plexiglass as my eyes widened. It was hard to make out much of her from here, but one thing was easy to see—she had deep red hair that hung down all the way to her hips.
I sucked in a sharp breath and flew back from the window as if it had burned me. Shit, that hair…
“Looks like Bree’s,” Frank said. I shot him a confused look.
“Who the fuck is Bree?”
The girl with red hair was officially part of the general population. She shuffled behind Nurse Rachel into the main room.
Obsession at first sight, that was new. Although who could blame me?
Very few people had hair like that. It reminded me of my mother.
Whose name was Rozeline, not Bree. Frank’s comment was still fucking with my head because Frank wasn’t real.
So how could I imagine him saying something I didn’t understand?
Oh well. Problem for another day.
The new patient was on the other side of the cafeteria, looking like a painting left out in the rain.
Thick black rivulets of makeup were dried on her cheeks.
Her hair hung limp down her body. Her hands kept grabbing at the oversized men’s shirt she wore uncomfortably.
All I could see were thin naked legs sprouting from the shirt. Was she porky-pigging it?
Her head turned towards me, finally. I was desperate for a better look at her. She saw me, and she tripped over her own feet. Cute.
We’d both had quite the initial reaction to each other. I couldn’t take my eyes away, and apparently, neither could she. Not until Nurse Rachel ruined it by forcing her to chug the most heinous drink on Earth: the dreaded red milkshake that was not red but pink.
Usually, I didn’t involve myself with anyone new. Still, when Rachel suddenly screamed that the patient was being put back in her room, I found myself across the room in an instant. I didn’t want her locked away where I couldn’t see her.
“Now, Rachel,” I said to the nurses back. Her body stiffened, and she turned slowly towards me, a look of dread on her face.
“Go back to your seat.”
“Look, I don’t normally like to swing my big dick around,” I said. The redhead snapped to attention, her eyes zeroing in on my crotch. Oh?
“But today I have the urge to whip it out and swing away. She clearly tried to do what you asked, and it’s her first day. Give her a break.” Rachel looked flabbergasted. When had I ever asked for a favor like this? Not once. I didn’t look out for anyone else. Not until now.
I knew right then, and there, I was irrevocably fucked when it came to this girl. That wasn’t good. Actually, it was the worst thing that could happen.
“Fine,” Rachel bit out between her teeth. Then she turned to the girl. “Follow me, let's get all your paperwork done,” she grumbled before taking off down the hall. I swiveled on my heels to face her up close for the first time. Her throat bobbed in a nervous swallow.
“Miss Bree,” Rachel snapped, halfway down the hall.
All my thoughts came to a screeching halt. Frank said Bree. How could he—and by he I meant me—know that name before I met her?
“Wow, well uh. I better catch up to her,” she told me, hesitating. I stood there in shock. I reached out towards her, but then slowly curled my fingers back into a fist.
“Do I know you?” She asked, stepping forward. I jerked back so we wouldn’t touch. She smiled, liking my reaction. She knew it gave her power.
“What’s your name?” Bree asked.
“Baz,” I mumbled.
“How about I do something for you, since you did something for me.” Her smile was sly, her eyes sparkling. I swallowed thickly and looked around. The other patients ignored us.
“Where’s your room, Baz?” Bree asked, and I vaguely motioned to one of the halls.
“Show me,” she said. I was in a haze as I walked her to it. What was happening? Plus, what the fuck was I doing? I should turn her away.
But then we were in my room with the door closed, my fist wrapping around her hair. Her eyes softened as I pulled it, her body loose.
“I like a man in a mask,” she rasped.
And then, it all came back to me. Who she was. Who we were. Holy fucking shit.
Then she shoved her hands down my pants and started screaming.
Bree Hamilton, love of my life, died by trying to give me a handjob. I dropped to my knees and started yelling.
I was wearing nothing but tight boxer briefs as I swung Frank around in my room, a smooth dance between close friends. My fingers grazed his cheek, feeling the texture of his skin against mine. He wasn’t a very lively dance partner, but I was willing to forgive him, considering Frank was dead.
“Bree’s outside again,” he said.
I dropped him and stumbled away. My head swam.
“What the fuck?”
“Knock knock,” the corpse said from the floor. A smile spread across his face, and his milky white eyes slowly turned to look at me. Well, I did love a good joke…
“Who’s there?”
“Your subconscious,” he said.
I grimaced. “That’s horrifying, not hilarious.”
“Bree’s outside again,” he repeated. After a moment, I ran over to the window and peered out to see a new patient. Long red hair… She looked like…
“Please, god, don’t think she looks like your mom again,” Frank groaned.
“Rude,” I mumbled.
“Baz,” Frank said seriously. I peeled my eyes away from the girl wearing a muzzle and looked at him, collapsed on the floor.
“What?”
“Bree’s outside again.” Honestly, I was too embarrassed to admit I didn’t know what he was talking about.
“Bree’s outside again,” I repeated.
“Very good. Now, I know you don’t have many brain cells, but try to use a few more and figure this out.”
“Why is my subconscious degrading me?”
“Because you like it.”
“Yeah, okay. Fair.”
“Stay on task. Bree… is outside… again.” Finally, it all hit me.
“Holy shit,” I said in shock.
“Now you’ve got it.”
“I’m psychotic, aren’t I?” I asked. Frank didn’t respond. Actually, he was looking as dead as he should be. I chuckled and lay down on the floor next to him, twirling a lock of his hair.
“No one can take a joke anymore,” I told him. Milky eyes slowly slid up, looking at me. “I do remember everything now. Thanks.”
“Asshole,” he mumbled. I kicked him under the bed with Harry. “Ow! You’re in Hell, if you haven’t realized!” He yelled at me.
“Yeah, but worse than that, I fucked up with my partners. Bad.” Fuck, I shouldn’t have dumped them. I should have opened up, come up with a plan. Bought them fucking oxygen tanks and masks and whole body gimp suits with my credit card. Told them what they had to do to make us all safe.
“Gonna be honest, I think being dead is worse,” Frank added.
“You’ve always been dead. Wait, how are we— how are you more dead than me?”
“Because I’m not real.”
“Whatever, not important.” I waved my hand in dismissal as I dove into my wardrobe, finding clothes.
“Being trapped in a time-loop from Hell where nothing is real is … not important?” Frank asked. Was he always this chatty?
“No. But finding my partners is. Just like Bree said,” I paused as I pulled on my old Venom mask. This thing had unfortunately burned in the Verfallen fire, so I was pleased to have it back—real or not.
“What did Bree say?” Frank prompted me.
“As long as we’re all together, everything is fine.
I fucked up once, and it led to me killing them.
I’ll never fuck that up again.” I kicked open the door, and inmates scrambled.
When I stepped into the hall, someone smashed themselves against the wall and squirmed.
I saluted the guy, and he whimpered. I smiled under the mask.
“It’s good to be home.”