Free Marionette by T. B. Markinson Page B

head, I pictured a sweet, doting mother. The Lego had ruined it all. All of it.” I jumped out of my chair. Being cradled in the arms of the chair felt like an abomination.
    “I think wolves would have done a better job of raising me after the incident. My parents…”
    Liddy followed my eyes up to the ceiling. Above us, people were going about their normal business, preparing for weekend frivolity. Down in the bowels of the building, clients like me were ripping their souls out, piece by piece. Hacking at them, hoping they might rejuvenate. But I had zero hope. All of this was pointless.
    Fuck Jess for making me promise to do this.
    “When my mom was in the hospital, my father wanted me to see her right after her surgery. The hospital had a policy that patients couldn’t be seen so soon. Policies didn’t apply to him; they never did. He wanted me to see. I hadn’t told him that I’d believed she would evolve into a superhero, but maybe he suspected. Or maybe he’s just an asshole.”
    I leaned against the far wall, still staring at the ceiling with dead eyes. The cracks in the paint blurred into one large hole. I wanted to climb through it. I wanted to plan for weekend merriment.
    Liddy cleared her throat and I resumed the story. “I sat in the lobby of the hospital. I can’t remember where Abbie was. Sometimes, I wondered if my sister actually existed. Was she a figment of my imagination? Was she me? Was I her? Or was she just too smart to let them fuck with her mind.” I sucked in some air, but my lungs felt empty. Empty air.
    “‘No, I don’t think you understand,’ he said to the nurse. ‘I want my child to see her.’ He never said that she was my mom. He always said her . He demanded that the nurse wheel her out to the lobby since they wouldn’t let me behind the locked doors.
    “‘Mr. Alexander, I don’t think you understand—‌’ the nurse started, but my father’s eyes stopped her dead. She gathered her strength and whispered, ‘This could be too traumatic…’ she didn’t finish the statement, but glanced in my direction.”
    I saw the hole in the ceiling spreading open for me. I breathed in more stagnant air.
    “‘I don’t think you understand—‌you’ll do as I say,’ he said. I can still picture the odd, calm expression on his beet-red face. I’d often marveled over his dual emotions. His words commanded respect, as if he were a Marine drill sergeant.
    “For all I know, he probably donated generously to the hospital. Not because he was kind. He was never kind. His tax guy probably suggested it. I think it was around the time he started setting up offshore accounts. If it made fiscal sense, then my father would do it. The word charity sent thunderbolts through his eyes. Ingrates stood with their palms out, begging for money. No one gave him a leg up. He had to toil for his bread. I often imagined that my father was Dickens’s inspiration for Ebenezer Scrooge in a previous life.”
    I stopped talking, not wanting to continue. What was the point really? How was talking part of the step-by-step plan to stay alive? Shouldn’t I focus on the good in life? Shouldn’t I climb through the hole and announce, “I want to have fun with the rest of you! Fuck this slitting my wrists bullshit!”
    “What happened?” Liddy’s voice startled me. I was elsewhere, above, and I didn’t want to come back down. Not to her office.
    “The nurse left the lobby in a huff, but she followed orders. I tried hiding behind a potted plant, but that didn’t last. I heard the buzzer on the door. The automatic doors creaked open. I heard a squeaking wheel and the pitter-patter of the nurse’s footsteps. My eyes darted up, against my will. Slowly, a hideous creature emerged from the shadows.
    “She sat slumped in her chair, spittle dribbling down her front. She was ghost-white. I reached for her hand, and it was frigid. I was sure the doctors had killed her. She was a corpse. Had to be a