The Dollhouse Asylum (11 page)

But he doesn’t hear me. He’s inclined his head a fraction to the right, in the opposite direction from me, as if purposely tuning me out.

So I dig my nails into his hands, and his grip loosens a bit, and I take the opportunity to wrench my hands away, racing straight for the wall.

I’m almost there, maybe two feet from the brick edge, when footsteps echo behind me. Bee shrieks a string of profanities before the lion roars and everything stops.

My heart pounds in my ears, my stomach clenches, and I can’t accept the sound, refuse to let my stomach empty out. Why has the screaming stopped? Maybe she’s found some cavity in the rock and is hiding—
that’s
why everything’s quiet now.

I reach for a peg; my foot finds another, and I’m just about to reach for another handhold when a large, calloused hand folds over mine. I try shaking the hand loose, but it grips harder, so I look up to find Marcus gently pulling me away.

“Cheyenne…” Marcus whispers, shaking his floppy-haired head. Liquid glistens in his eyes, but he doesn’t let the moisture fall—it’s trapped inside. Wrapping his arms around me, he pulls me away from the stage. Like a blanket around a hornet, he protects me from the elements and the elements from me.

I want to throw him, sting him where I stand, but I know he hasn’t done this. Bee’s no longer screaming, but not because of him. The man I thought I loved
killed
them. Killed. The word feels so wrong. It’s not possible for someone to do such a thing. Turning to face Teo, I try to find the words, but instead the moment I shared with him inside his room flashes inside my head. The way he kissed my neck and how I shuddered in pleasure because of him. The caresses, the chats we’ve had about the tales. How could I never have seen this about him?

With one fluid motion, Teo pushes his brother aside and wraps his hungry fingers around my waist, searing my skin. Raising my hand high into the air, he cries, “And so it has begun!” His call curls out to those inching backward on the grass. Romeo tucks Juliet into his plaid chest. Abe, rising from the ground, falls into Eloise’s arms. Ana mauls her scarf with her hands.

A volcano rages in Teo’s gaze. He looms above me; the spirits of the dead lurk in his face. “Seven men and seven women,” he murmurs, scalding my ears. Running his thumb down my cheek—I am shrinking, shaking—he adds, “I am sorry to say there was not room for eight.”

I stare at the red curtain Teo has used to cover his twelve-foot wall. It didn’t take him long to get the lion back into the hole. Jonas tossed in a wad of meat and Teo hit the button on the remote like nothing ever happened. Nothing at all.

I try pushing aside the fear, the pain, the horrified way I feel about him. He
murdered
Ramus and Bee. And not with as much as a hint of remorse. He’s disposed of them like used Kleenex. This isn’t the same person I’ve known for two years, the man I wanted to be with.

Clutching my waist, Teo’s fingers dig into my skin. I feel soiled, dirty for being near him. To think I actually
helped
him tell that story, took part in the murder of Ramus and Bee.

The other couples dot Ramus’s yard like clustered clams washed up on the beach at night. They sit, shifting. Ana bites her nails, and Sal, next to her, rubs his sweaty palms on his jeans. Eloise and Abe hold each other, quaking. Little shrieks keep bubbling out of Eloise’s mouth, and I know why. Bee was her friend.

It must be past midnight—it seems like years ago that I first came, but it’s only been one very long day. Maybe if I close my eyes, I’ll wake up, and laugh with Teo over my dream. I squeeze my eyes shut, and when I work the muscles in my cheeks, I know this isn’t a dream; I’ll never wake.

With the red curtain closed, everyone stares at the stage, as if contemplating what Teo has done, what other animal might spring from the hole. It makes me wonder how the lion got down there, and if there are more things, apart from the snake and the lion, trapped beneath the ground.

Trapped. We’re all trapped, except for Ramus and Bee. I don’t understand how Teo could kill them.

Teo releases my waist, and I swear he’ll never hold me in that seahorse grasp again. Stalking toward the group, he’s like a panther considering his next meal. “I shall now congratulate you on your faithfulness,” he says over Eloise’s cries as she floods Abe’s shirt with her tears. “As of yet, no one else has marred my name.”

Cleo studies the ground, gritting her teeth, and Marcus, beside her, leans over to whisper something in her ear. I watch numbly as she whispers back. Has Marc known of his brother’s deceit all along?

Teo seems blind to the exchange. He’s saying something about reporting any misdeeds we see in the future, when I realize I know why Ramus and Bee were killed. Ramus stood up to Teo for being alone with
me
. I have Ramus’s blood on my hands. And Bee’s.

I sway where I stand, with the stage behind me, and I find Marcus watching me. His mouth pulls down, like he can see the weight I feel, but he presses his lips together and nods, like I’m supposed to keep going. But how can I just stand here with Ramus’s and Bee’s deaths hanging over me?

Teo strides to the back of the group, encircling the men and women like they’re his fresh kill. It makes me wonder if anyone else knew he had murder in his heart. Maybe that’s why they all left Cleo’s when I wanted to know their names. And Marc. He wasn’t trying to stop me because he was jealous, but because he knows what his brother is. I try meeting his gaze again, but he’s leaning over with his head in his hands. Marcus needs someone to nod at
him
.

“And now for our rules,” Teo says, his voice stone cold. “They are, indeed, simple.” He holds up one finger at a time. “First, never question me.” He pauses for a moment, I suppose to detect any rebellion, probably from Marcus, but his head is down, and Cleo’s staring at the ground.

“Second,” Teo continues, “you must prove yourselves to me. The second is really a clarification of the first, but really, all the inner workings of our world adhere to these two rules.”

I’m not really sure what Teo means by “proving ourselves to him,” but after seeing Ramus’s and Bee’s deaths, I have no doubt it isn’t good. And one of the Doublemint girls must be thinking the same thing because she’s glancing around, her ponytail whipping madly around her face, the light of the moon highlighting her large eyes.

“And third,” Teo smiles sweetly, “never forget that you’re part of a pair. Commit to each other. You are part of a greater calling now. Embrace our world.”

From the corner of my eye, I see Jonas skulking behind the group. He reaches into his pocket and hits something—probably another remote—causing the lights on the mulberry to flicker before going out.

Shadows fall more heavily across the crowd, draping over the contours of Teo’s face, making his cheekbones stick out. He scans the crowd, I suppose searching for someone. I wonder who he’s looking for—Marcus?—when Teo stops moving and he frowns. It’s impossible to see who he’s looking at, but someone’s whispering, and when Teo says, “Cleo,” the whispering stops. Raising his voice a few notches, he says, “Please, won’t you stand?”

In the darkness, I watch as a beaded head rises above the others; Teo must have called on her because she wasn’t listening just now.

“My dear Cleo,” Teo says, “do you remember what I asked you all in the beginning?”

Cleo nods her head, beads clattering in the silent night. “Stay on your own gender’s side of the street. Until the parties,” she clarifies. “The men may enter the women’s side for those.” Part of me wants to offer reasons for why we shouldn’t go strolling on the other side. Like snakes, for example. And lions. But I keep my mouth shut. No need to tempt Teo’s wrath.

“Excellent, Cleo,” Teo says. He extends his hands as if to embrace her, though she’s much too far away. “I would like to reiterate what I said earlier. There are simply three overarching rules. What were they, may I ask?” Teo turns suddenly toward me and locks his deathly eyes on my face. It’s like cockroaches are crawling all over me. Was I really just making out with him in his room? I should slash my wrists.

My stomach churns; he’s waiting for me to tell him something—oh, yes, to repeat his “overarching rules,” so I open my mouth. “Don’t question you,” I squeak, “prove ourselves, and—” Dear God, what was the other one?

A low voice calls from the crowd, “Never forget your other half.”

I peer out at the couples sprawled out on the grass, and realize it’s Marcus who’s helped me just now. Despite what I thought about him earlier, I sort of want to run and hide with him wherever he was looking in the woods.

“That is right,” Teo smiles, falsely, not bothering to turn his head. It looks like he’s going to pretend I was the one who gave all the rules, and I’m not sure if that’s lucky, or if he’ll use the moment to hurt me later. I’m not sure which I’d prefer.

But I see it now, how he’s really been selfish all along. He tells us he’s our savior, but what he really wants is to rule a little cult where we worship him, fan his vanity. I used to think of him as handsome, disarming, but now all I see is a black, cold heart draped in the cloak of a much-too-thin man. The worst part is, there’s nowhere to run. What am I supposed to do? Flee to the outside world without the vaccine?

“Some of you might question my methods,” Teo is saying, “but to demonstrate my great brotherly love, my equal footing with you all, I announce a great change.” Teo studies the wilting frames of the men and women on the grass, and I mean to study them, too, when his iron-manacled hand grabs mine and he laces his creepy-crawly fingers through my own. I want to vomit, hurl the kisses we’ve shared from my mouth. He wants me to remain beside him, but how can I when he’s killed Ramus and Bee?

I look up to find Marcus watching me. It’s hard to see in the faint light, but the set of his drooping shoulders tells me he’s just as lost. He’s not mentally unstable. His brother is.

Teo’s watching the couples, his body perfectly motionless except for the grip of his fingers on my own. Voice measured and low, he says, “I will now be moving into Pyramus’s house.”

A chill scurries up my spine. He kills, then, “Oh, looky there! This looks like a wonderful house for me.” I must not be the only one thinking the same thing, because Marc’s shoulders aren’t drooping anymore; they’re drawing up tight. And one of the boys—I can make out a collar on his shirt, so it might be plaid, which would make it Romeo—walks around several of the couples to stand beside Marc. I watch as the boys tilt their heads toward each other and speak, but their voices are so low, and I’m so far away, there is absolutely no way I can hear what they say.

Teo’s still talking, saying I’ll be moving into Bee’s. The bones in my fingers become so brittle that they might snap off, so I keep them in Teo’s fist, though I yearn to pull away. I don’t understand how he thinks it’s okay for me to live in Bee’s house. Bee was a leader and a friend. She was also their student body president—they had voted for her because they liked her so much. She spoke, they listened. She laughed, they laughed. And now she’s gone because of him.

I watch as Jonas, in his bright white clothes, squirts something on the red curtain. My insides whimper. He’s scrubbing off blood.

My nails dig into my palms, and I tense to lash out—claw Teo’s face—but what would he do? Smile at me before punishing me by killing someone else?

Numb, I listen to whatever else Teo says. He tells us Jonas will be living in his old house, and something about the mailboxes, but I don’t really care. His world is sick and twisted, perfect to cover up his greed.

“In
our
world,” Teo’s voice goes up a few notches, making it impossible to push him out, “perfection shall be known. By day,” he glances over to the only person wearing glasses, so it must be Sal, “we shall live in study, modeling our lives after those we re-enact. Your homes are filled with the appropriate literature. Study the person you have become. There is a greatness in symbolism. An unparalleled truth.”

I watch as Sal cocks his head to the side, as if considering what Teo is telling him, like he
wants
to experience this “unparalleled truth.” And it makes me shrivel up and curse myself for knowing I wanted the same thing.

“At night,” Teo prowls around the couples, “shall be our evening soirées.” The Doublemint girls suddenly look up, eyes brightening. Teo smiles at them. “Each couple shall have the chance to host one, and dazzle us with your ability to bring your stories to life.” The girls look at each other like they’re excited about this part, and it makes everything inside me wilt seeing they’re already willing to move past Bee.

Teo squeezes my hand, forcing me to tune in. In a low voice, he warns, “Do not fail in your soirées. You shall have the opportunity but once, for if you fail to impress your neighbors, there shall be no need for you to have the vaccine.”

Spiders crawl inside of me; I was right. Yes, we will all bow to Teo and plant a smile on our lips, because otherwise we’ll join Ramus and Bee.

“Until tomorrow!” Teo claps, making me jolt, and I watch as the other couples—six, now—scramble to their feet. Abe holds out a hand to help Eloise stand; Ana almost face-plants when she trips over her orange sari. I’m too hollow to have the heart to help, too busy feeling Teo’s words drip into my head. Soirées. Artistry. Prove yourselves. Vaccine. My mind sputters as I think. The couples trickle away, with Marcus walking stiffly next to Cleo, and Jonas bringing up the rear, stun gun in hand.

Teo grips me around the waist and kisses me on the neck; roaches scurry across my skin. “It will take some time,” he says softly, his breath suddenly rank against my face, “but you will come to love how I run this world. Greatness requires sacrifice. I am only relieved you are here.”

As he steers me away from Ramus’s and Bee’s stage, my eyes snag on the red curtain and I realize something. Elysian Fields is nothing but a dark stage, and we are Teo’s marionettes. He tips his hand to the right, we jostle our hands and feet; he flicks his hand down, and we’re forced to bow low. We have no choice but to play along, because if we don’t, he’ll cut our strings and watch as we crash on the ground, shattering.