Monday, March 11, 2013
Monday felt
a jolt as she woke up, back in the small room, surprised to find her feeding
tube was missing. She could feel her body twitch and twist as it felt like she
was being pulled apart. Monday bucked in the bed but found not only was she
still bound to the bed, but now, her legs were bound too. Monday looked over at
Edith and saw that she was reading something on her tablet, “Edith, I need more
meds.”
Edith
looked up at her with black eyes and gave her a sad smile, “This is the part
where you’re going to call me a bitch.” Monday looked down at her arm and saw
that the IV was gone, she looked back at Edith, who wasn’t smiling anymore,
“The change creates a high level of adrenaline and the amount of anesthesia and
blood thinners that you would need is unsafe. Plus, the transformation is
smoother if you’re angry.”
Monday felt
betrayed; the shaking was getting worse and her skin felt like it was boiling. “You
sadistic bi- AHH,” Monday felt her back arch; it felt like her shoulder blades
were being pulled apart. She dug her nails into the bed and could feel the
fabric rip benighted them. Monday screamed loader as her vision went blurry and
the pain became worse, but soon the pain traveled to her mouth, her gums felt
like they were on fire. Monday could taste blood in her mouth. She bit her lip
and felt her teeth cut in. This seemed to alarm Edith; she pulled a white rag
out of the draw, “Someone is apparently a biter.”
“You mother
f-” Edith pushed the rag in Monday mouth. Monday resorted to kicking, but the
restraints were too tight, her wrist and ankles were rubbing raw, but that was
nothing compared to her back. The pain sharpened in her back and Monday could
feel her skin ripping apart. There was a new feeling spreading out from behind
her, pushing her away from the bed. Monday screamed loader and loader when her
vision started to change; Edith came more into focused and Monday seemed to
pick up on things in the room that she had never noticed before, everything was
sharp; her hearing, her vision, even her smell- the iron that had once made her
nauseous gave her new hunger chills.
What felt
like hours and hours of pain seemed to finally end, Monday fell back onto the
bed, the new wings pushing her up. She was sweaty, tired, and could feel the
blood coming out of her, she wanted the nightmare to end. Edith checked her
phone and told Monday the time.
6:17. It
only took her 17 minutes.
Edith
seemed happy about the results. She typed something into her tablet and came
over to Monday with a new IV in had, “This is a sleep aid. While you’re
sleeping, I’m also hooking you up to a transfusion line and a feeding tube. AB+
for the veins thou Lenny sent me a text saying that your stepfather was 0+.
That’s good; it means that you can drink your preference.”
Monday was
tired of needles and tired of pain and just tired of everything. She wished
that there was poison and this would all end soon. But as Monday drifted off to
sleep, she began to dream.
She’s
standing in the graveyard. It’s different; the graves are the same but the
graves stretch on forever in a constant loop putting Monday somewhere in the
middle. Monday looks down at herself and surprised at what she sees; it’s a
white dress with lace and caped sleeves, it’s the same dress Alyson was buried
in.
“Monday.”
The voice
is familiar, “Aly?” Monday calls out. Something feels like it’s pulling her
forward and she follows, first walking there the grass barefooted, but as the
feeling gets stronger, Monday runs faster. The graves stay the same as she
races thru them, trying to get to the source of her name. Their just a white
bur when suddenly, the graves stop at a clearing. The graves circulated around one
grave, the one grave that Monday can’t forget. As Monday approached Alyson’s
grave, careful not to step on the fresh mound of dirt, Monday picks up the
flower lying on top; a single blue rose.
Monday held
the rose, looking at the tombstone, Monday gasps. It’s not Alyson’s name on it,
it was Monday’s.
“You said
you wanted to join me.” Alyson said behind her. She turns around, expecting to
see Alyson, but instead finds herself. In Nightling form and covered in blood.
With evil black eye, Nightling Monday pushed Monday into the now open grave.
Monday fell further and further down as the dirt felt hot all around her.
Then she
woke up. She woke up still sweaty and could feel her back buckling again. Her
fingers were boiling as her nail retracted and her jaw ached, but Monday was
too tired to care. In a matter of minutes, Monday stopped twitching, she looked
over at Edith looking at her phone again, and “Surprised you sleep through the
first part, any bad dreams?”
Monday
nodded. Edith typed something on her tablet, “Still not the first one. Do you
want to share?”
“No,” she
said weakly. Monday laid back in the bed, tying to ignore the pain in her back
and trying to wrap her head around thing; I’m a Nightlings now, she thought,
this is the life I’m going to have to live. Edith came over with a cup in her
hand, “I don’t want this.”
“Beggars
can’t be choosers. It’s this or the tube.”
“No, I
don’t want this.” Monday said. She felt tears rolling down her cheek, though
she didn’t know she was crying, “Just end it, please.”
Edith shook
her head, “You’re not the first to ask and you won’t be the first to receive.”
Edith said in a dead voice. Edith put the cup down and instead grabbed a
feeding tube. Monday turned away from, only to have Edith pull her face to her,
“this would go so much easier if you would hold still.”
Monday
wanted to protest but didn’t have it in her. Monday didn’t want to ender, but
had no choice. The blood ran down her throat, it was cold and thick, but there
was something in it that made her feel better. Edith ate a sandwich while she
watched Monday drink, until the bag was empty. It was uncomfortable to pull
out, but Monday was glad with the tube gone. She coughed and felt some blood
come back up. A moment later, it all did.
“It’s okay,
let it out.” Edith pulled Monday forward so she wouldn’t choke on her own
vomit. When Monday was done, she was crying. Her voice was harsh and broken,
“Please just kill me.”
“I’m not
going to do that,” Edith said. Monday looked over to see that Edith was covered
in bile. Edith shuddered, “I hate this part, the first few days are the worst.
Your body is just rejecting the blood. Give it a few days and you should be
good. You could use a shower though.”
Edith
helped her out of bed, and Monday lend on her to the bathroom. Monday sat down
in the shower chair and lend against the wall as Edith took off her soiled
gown. “You have to do this for everyone?”
“Any
Nightling in the last 8 years. Sometimes Marcus will help me, but he has too
many appointments this week. Not much he could even do, the man is useless around
blood.”
Edith
turned the shower on and it brought Monday back to her first shower at Ezra’s;
the refreshing feeling was gone. Monday felt like a ragdoll, no control over
her life anymore. She pitted Edith for having to take care of someone, who if
given the choice, would end it. As soon as Edith was done, she changed Monday
into a new gown. Edith brought her back to the room and placed her in a chair
while she cleaned up. “Why do you do all of this? Marcus can pay off the
morgue, why not the hospital?”
“It’s not
that easy to pay off people and why not me? I was in med school before I met
Marcus.” Edith moved Monday back to the bed, and Monday felt a pit in her
stomach as Edith strapped her back in.
“Why did
you leave school?” Monday asked leaning back in bed, wincing in pain, “I’d
rather hear about that than think about, well, everything else.”
Edith
seemed to understand, “When I was 26 and in med school, I met Marcus. He gave a
seminar on the psychology of grief at the Syringa University. I had the day off
and had a fondness for it. So I went for the seminar and that’s where I meet
Marcus,” she smiled at his name. Monday tried to sit up, “how did you become a
Nightling?’
“Never ask
a Nightling that,” Edith said, “When I met Marcus I was a Fledgling. After I
became a Nightling, I dropped out of school because of the stress and worked on
help Nightlings transform. Before me, Marcus just locked them in a room and
hoped for the best. He was lucky if they survived, luckier if they kept their
minds. The past 8 years I’ve been in charge of helping Nightlings and
Fledglings, we’ve lost a lot less. Somewhere along the way, I ended up marring
Marcus.”
“The age difference doesn’t bother you?” Edith
laughed, “He may be 20 years older, but that doesn’t mean anything to me. It’s
a good, solid marriage. I’m surprised you would find it weird, Ezra and Michael
have an age gap.”
Monday
thought of Ezra and Edith must have sensed Monday’s sadness, “He called last
night and this morning, he didn’t forget you. He just doesn’t like coming
here.”
“I can see
why.” Monday said feeling sleepy. The next few days were all the same. At night,
Edith had her so drugged that everything was a blur, during the day, the after
effect was just as tiring. When Monday did sleep, she had the same dream over
and over again. After the first few days Monday couldn’t tell which was worse.
She felt
numb. When she could think, all she thought of was what she was going to do
now. Edith hadn’t even Monday see herself yet, the only thing she could see was
her own nightmare version. With each day the transformation felt easier, but
each day Monday felt more depressed. She hated this room, she hated Edith for
locking her in it, but most importantly, she hated herself for putting herself
here.
After 3
weeks, Monday felt as though her body was strong but her mind was weak. It was
past dusk and Monday was sitting up in bed. Edith was filling in something on
her tablet, when there was a knock on the door. Edith turned to answer it, one
of the things that Monday had earned not to question was Edith’s back, she was
wingless and all that was left was two long scars. Edith opened the door and to
Monday’s surprise, stood Marcus and Ezra.
Monday
leaped out of bed, no longer held down by restraints, and ran into Ezra’s arms.
Monday was just glad to see someone who wasn’t Edith for once. Monday looked
over to Marcus, who gave her a comforting smile, “feeling better?”
Monday
shook her head. She let go of Ezra and sat back down on the bed. Marcus seemed
to study her for a while, “outwardly seems fine. Any complications?”
“Nothing
that stood out. Her transaction times were good and everything seemed to come
out fine.” Marcus pulled down on Monday’s chin and opened her mouth, “Her teeth
look good, the gums could use some work. Scars on the lip?”
“She bit
down a few times, the cuts should heal just fine.” Marcus grabbed a wing and
spread it out. The feeling was weird; it felt as if her shoulder blades were
being turned. Marcus studies them for a while before asking Edith for a type
measurer. “Her wingspan is short. That could be problematic, but the nails seem
tough. Ezra I would work more on her climbing then the gliding.” Marcus backed
up and looked over Monday, “overall, the change suits you. I have the paper
work if you want to get started.”
“Do you
want to see yourself first?” Edith asked. Monday nodded as Edith pulled a large
mirror out from behind the cabinet. She placed it in front of Monday who just
stared at herself. Monday as surprised, it was better than what she thought it
would be. Through her heighted eyes, she could see that she was no long
skeletal; Ezra’s kindness and the change had given her a softer, muscular
frame. Her wings didn’t look short; they stuck out behind her, translucent in
the florescent light. It was her face that surprised her most, her chubby
cheeks and freckles were back as her black eyes stood out on her pale face. In
the mirror she saw Marcus stand behind her, “Power becomes you.”
Monday
turned back to Ezra and Edith, who were sighing papers. Ezra looked up at her,
“I brought you a dress that you can change into. Your room is ready for you at
home.”
Home?
Edith
handed Monday a pen, “Before you go anywhere, I need to confirm your new
identity. Monday Caldecott needs to disappear.” Monday looked at the paper work
when a word on them caught her eye: Adoption. “Since your mentor is going to be
Ezra, you’re taking on his last name. Now what do you want your first name to
be?”
They all
looked at Monday, whose mind was still on adoption, “Why can’t I keep Monday?”
“You really
want to be Monday Borne?” Ezra asked. The numb feeling she felt early was
coming back with vengeance, this was all too much. Edith must have picked up on
it, “How about your middle name? Or that friend of yours.”
“Marie? I
hate Marie. And I don’t want to take Alyson’s name.” Monday said, “What if I
hyphenated my name? Monday-Marie?”
“Monday-Marie
Borne, it has a nice ring to it.” Ezra said signing his name. He handed Monday
the papers. Monday looked up, not at Ezra, nut at Marcus. His eyes glazed down
on her and seemed to be commanding. Monday felt her life slipping away as she
signed her name on the dotted line. The ink bleed on the paper like the life
she left behind.
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4 comments:
Intense. Very good job of getting us to share the pain.
What is the physiology of the wings? Are they always there? Some parts of the novel make it seem as if they are; others as if they come and go.
I've always thought of them like bat wings, and that they just fold up behind them
Do they fit neatly under clothes, or is special tailoring required?
I answer that in the next chapter but basically, when the shoulders are relaxed, the wings fold up behind them. it does, however, limited what they can wear. Most Nightlings will go shirtless at night or wear tank tops with a short cut down the back; it keeps them covered and give them room.
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