Free Mockingbird by Chuck Wendig

despair
       The Devil take you without care."
     
      The man pulls a pair of wire cutters from the pocket of his ragged jeans, then cuts out Lauren's tongue. He has to work to get a grip, and it takes a while for the cutters to bite through.
      Her eyes, still wide, go still as placid pools.
      The killer laughs, a throaty, happy trill.

SIXTEEN
    Purge
     
    Every part of her jolts awake with a full synaptic shock, like a lightning storm is throttling every nerve ending in her body. Her limbs splay out. Her fingers tighten and curl inward. One of her nails breaks on the wooden floor. Snap . A face, blurry now but swiftly coming into focus, floats above her.
       Mother?
      An old woman, her silver hair pulled back in a long braid, shines a penlight in Miriam's eyes.
      "Here she comes," the woman says, and the face resolves, a total stranger. "The strange woman awakens."
      She offers Miriam a hand.
       Not again.
      Miriam can't handle that right now. Another touch. Another vision. More death, a ceaseless parade of skulls and bones and hungry birds. Instead she sits up and scoots backward against a cherrywood desk. Gasping. Mouth tasting of vomit.
      The woman – mid-sixties, in a cozy blue shawl over a white blouse – reaches for Miriam again. "Take my hand. I'll help you up."
      "Touch me and I bite it off." Miriam clacks her teeth together to ensure that the literality of her statement is keenly felt.
      "I'm not your enemy," the woman says, her voice crisp, prim. " I'm Miss Caldecott. The school nurse."
      Miriam bares her teeth again. "Wait. Caldecott." Miriam squints. "Like the school."
      Another shape moves in behind her. The Headmaster. Half his hands rest in his blazer pockets, delicate, the way a library card sits tucked in the back of a book.
      "Yes," he says. "Eleanor Caldecott. I'm Edwin Caldecott, Headmaster. This woman is my mother. And, not coincidentally, the founder of this school."
      "Great. Good. Fine. Whatever. What happened?" Miriam asks. But she doesn't need them to answer before it all comes spiraling into view. Bleach hair, young girl, handshake, old-timey doctor's table, bird mask, fire axe, death sung to sing-song . "Oh."
      Her flailing limbs grab for a nearby metal trashcan, and she pukes into it. A hot tide of pretzels, peppers, tequila.
      "Lovely," the Headmaster says. Nasal intonation. As though he's bored by these proceedings. He sucks air through the gap in his two front teeth.
      Miriam rests her head against the side of the desk. Wipes a smear of drooly barf from her lip. "The girl. Lauren. I need to talk to her."
      "We sent her away," the nurse says. Mouth a severe line.
      "Who are you?" the Headmaster asks. "A relative to one of the girls? A sister? Mother? Are you on drugs?"
      "I need to talk to that girl."
      "We can't allow that, Miss Black. And if you continue to make such strange requests, I will be forced to call the police. I'm already regretting not doing so from the moment you tore one of our sconces from the wall, stumbled into my office, and had a seizure here on the floor."
      "I'll go," Miriam says. "I'm sorry. I'll… go."
      "Good. I've brought some friends to ensure that to be the case." He untucks one of his hands from its pocket and waves someone in. The nurse studies her the way a cat studies a mouse before the pouncing.
      The two guards from before – Roidhead and Mario – enter, and reach to help her up. She fends them both off with the trashcan. Pukey vapors rise from within, and she hisses like a cornered puma. "Fuck off. I'm going. You lay one hand on me and I'll sue you so hard you'll be shitting legal papers till the stars burn out."
      Clumsily, drunkenly, Miriam manages to stand by grabbing the edge of the Headmaster's desk. It's only now she gets a good look at the room, and it's almost ludicrously typical: old globe, dark shelves stuffed with books, everything in wood, everything oiled and