Chapter 18
Missing Pieces
Lolli-Gag
The buzzing of the doors unlocking drag me out of my sleep. Not gently though. It fucking claws through my skull until I feel it inside my bones.
“Breakfast!” a voice hums through the loudspeakers, but I don’t move. For a second—just one—I wait. For alarms, for chaos, for the echo of last night still crawling through the walls, but nothing—just silence.
“…Jethro?” I call out.
“You’re late,” he mutters, and I sit up fast. My chest tightens as I look around the room and everything seems normal. Bed. Desk. Cracks in the ceiling exactly where they should be. No blood, no noise. I swing my legs over the side, letting my feet hit the cold floor.
“Did it happen?” I whisper, but I’m greeted with more silence.
“Does it matter?”
“Yes,” I say, my voice coming out sharper than I meant it to.
But it does. It has too. I move to the mirror.
My reflection staring back. Bare. With eyes sunken in.
I don’t like her like that. Too exposed.
Too real. My fingers shake as I grab the makeup.
White first. Always white. I smear it across my face, covering all my scars.
Hide and erase. Then to red. My smile is too wide—too sharp.
Then black over the eyes. Better. Now I look like me.
Now I feel like something close to whole.
“You’re cracking,” Jethro mutters.
“I’m not.”
“You are,”
I press harder, blend, smear. Fix. “I said I’m not.”
The guard yells again. Louder. Closer. I turn. “Fine,” I growl, because I need to see them. That’s it. That’s all this is. I just need to see them then everything will—make sense.
Getting up from the chair, I walk out of my room and into the hallway. It’s wrong. Again. Too clean. Too calm. Patients shuffle. Mutter and laugh to themselves.
“Eat your hands!”
“Eat your hands!”
“Eat your hands!”
Ellie never gives up. That’s really all she says besides, “Fuck your face with a rusty spoon.” I giggle. Walking faster, I ignore the looks—the whispers.
“They’re not here,” Jethro says.
“They are.”
“No!”
“They have to be,” I say as my steps quicken.
The cafeteria doors come into view and my heart starts pounding.
There. They’ll be there. They always are.
I push inside as the noise hits. Metal trays.
Voices. Movement. I scan the room—left, right, center.
Again. Nothing. My smile twitches. “…no.” I move deeper, faster now.
“They’re here,” I whisper, they have to be.
Jagger—he’d be too loud. Killian—watching everything.
Lucifer—smiling like he knows something no one else does. Vinny—quiet, always quiet.
I don’t see them. Anywhere. “They moved tables?” I say.
“They’re not here,” he says, and I shake my head.
“They moved?” I ask.
“No, they’re gone.”
“No!” I say, my voice cracking. I grab the nearest creature, pulling at the top of his shirt. The boy's eyes widen when he sees me. “Where are they?” I growl, and he blinks at me.
“Who?” he asks, looking around the room.
“Them,” I say, gesturing wildly. “The four of them—Jagger, Killian, Lucifer, and Vinny—where did they go? Did you see them?” I ask, and his face twists into confusion.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” he says quietly, and my stomach drops.
“That’s not funny,” I snarl.
“I’m not—” But I shove him away, making him stumble into the table, his metal tray slamming against it.
“Stop lying!” I scream, and heads turn. Eyes crawl over my skin, penetrating through my body.
“They were here,” I snap. “They were right fucking here!” No one answers.
No one reacts. It’s as if I didn’t say anything, like I’m not even—real.
“No,” I whisper as my chest tightens. This isn’t right.
This isn’t—I spin, looking again, searching harder.
Under every table. In every corner, over every face. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.
“They’re messing with you,” Jethro says.
“They can't,” I fire back, gritting my teeth as my fists tighten at my sides.
“They can.”
“They wouldn’t,” I seethe.
“They already did.” He chuckles as my fists begin to shake.
I grab a tray, I don’t remember picking up, and it slips, clattering against the floor.
Everyone stops for just a second—then—everything keeps going like I don’t matter, like none of this matters.
“They were here,” I say again, only quieter this time.
Almost desperate. “They were here.” No one answers, because if they were—someone would know—someone would remember… right? Right?
“What if they don’t exist?” Jethro says, and the thought hits like a blade, cold and deep.
“No!”
“What if it was just you?” he taunts.
“No!”
“What if you made them up?” He smiles sinisterly.
“Stop!” I scold, my voice echoing loudly. The room tilts and the walls shift as the noise stretches into something distorted. I press my hands to my head. “No! No! No!” They were real. I felt them. I remember—the room. The drug. The hallway. The blood—
My breath stutters… What if— what if that wasn’t real? What if none of it was? My stomach twists and my smile cracks. I feel it. Splitting, breaking. “I’m not crazy,” I whisper.
“You are.”
“I’m not—”
“You are.”
My knees hit hard against the floor, but no one moves. No one helps, because they don’t care. “They were real.” Silence greets me as a tear falls down my cheek.
“Were they?” Jethro hums, and everything stops.
I don’t know, and that’s worse than anything they’ve done to me.
I laugh—not giggle. Just softly laugh a broken tune.
If they weren’t real—then what does that make me?
And if they were—then where the hell did they go?
My head tilts slowly as my smile stretches again.
“I’ll find you,” I whisper. “I know you’re real,” I say, my voice shaky.
Because now? I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince them—or myself.
I don’t get up right away. The floor feels safer—solid and real. My fingers press into it. Hard.
“Stay,” I whisper, like it might leave me too,
“It will,” Jethro says softly.
“Shut up!” I growl.
“Everything does,” he adds, and my laugh cracks.
“Not them,” I say, but he doesn’t answer, which only makes the hole in my chest deepen.
I push myself up slowly as the room tilts again, but not like before—worse.
Like it’s… lagging. My head jerks to the side and, for a second, I see him.
Jagger—standing by the wall with blood on his knuckles while he watches me with ragged breath.
Relief hits so fast it hurts. “I knew it—” I gasp, but then he’s gone.
There’s nothing there. Just peeling paint and a crack running down the wall.
My stomach drops as I turn. There—Killian at the table…
perfectly still, eyes locked on me. Studying.
“You’re real,” I whisper as I take a step, and he disappears.
The chair is empty. No one was ever there.
“No, no, no— ” My hands shake harder. This isn’t—this isn’t how this works.
They don’t just—vanish. “They’re here,” I say again, my voice a mere whisper, less certain. “They have to be.”
“Or you’re losing them,” Jethro chimes in.
“I’m not losing anything,” I growl.
“You’re losing everything,” he taunts.
“Stop!” I yell as heads turn again. Too many eyes once again crawl up my skin—watching, judging, but most of all, ignoring. I spin in a slow circle, searching—begging.
“Did you see them?” I ask a girl with stringy hair and hollow eyes.
“See who?”
“The four of them,” I say, and she smiles.
“They’re not real,” she sings, and I narrow my eyes.
“They are, you dumb bitch!” I spit, and she leans closer.
“They’re in your head,” she states, tapping her temples.
“Right here.” I shove her and she laughs, stumbling back.
I stop in my tracks when that laugh—the same laugh that’s too familiar.
My mother. The cafeteria stretches as I reach for a fork, twirling it through my fingers.
“You always make things up,” she sings, spinning around me.
I mirror her movements as I continue to twirl the fork through my fingers over and over again.
“You always need friends that weren’t there,” she taunts.
“They were here,” I spit, pulling my face down as I tilt it a bit.
“Just like you weren’t in the oven?” She cackles, and I snap, lunging at her. I take the fork, lifting my arm, and stab her right in the eye, twisting the metal.
“Fuck you!” I yell, ripping the fork from her eye and slamming it into the other.
I giggle, twisting around and around. “They were fucking here!” I scream again as tears pour down my face, but I don’t stop giggling as the alarms blare and the cafeteria warps into chaos.
My shoulders shake as my head drops. Guards come flooding in, and I don’t know whether I’m crying or laughing.
Maybe both. “Say something,” I whisper. Not to the room.
Not to the creatures that live here. To them.
To anyone. “Please.” But nothing. Not Jagger.
Not Killian. Not Lucifer. Not Vinny. Just fucking silence.
Then Jethro. Quiet but closer than before.
“You’re still here,” he says, and I swallow thickly.
“That’s not enough,” I cry out as he lays a hand on my shoulder but I shrug him off.
“It has to be,” he says, and I tilt my head slowly. My smile creeping back. Wrong. Unstable.
“…no,” I whisper, because if they’re gone… If they were never here… Then something else is. Something that replaced them, something that’s watching me fall apart and is enjoying it.
My eyes lift, scanning the room only slower—more carefully. And just for a second—I swear—I see all four of them, standing together. Watching me. Waiting.
My breath catches as I take one step towards them. And just like that…They’re gone.
My smile snaps wider and a giggle slips out. “Okay.. I see how this works now,” I say as my fingers twitch. “You can hide them… but I’ll find them.”
“That’s my girl,” Jethro laughs, then my gaze looks up at the camera in the far corner of the cafeteria and I smirk.
“Game on, Master D… Game fucking on!”