Page 68 of Senseless
“No, I’m in the mental health unit at the men’s prison.” A small smile came to Shadow’s face. “Jandro just snuck me a flask and I drank it all. I’m numb and it feels good.”
I released a tight breath at that. Vaguely, I knew this prison was one of Shadow’s better memories. It was where he first met Jandro, where his life improved because he wasn’t tortured on a daily basis.
“Mariposa is here,” Doc said, keeping that even, calm quality to his voice. “You know who she is, yes?”
“Yesss…” Shadow drew the word out like he was experiencing something that felt utterly heavenly. Like a massage or a hot bath. Or…
I bit the inside of my cheek to hide my smile.
“Good. Would you be open to answering some questions from her?”
Shadow’s mouth twitched, the smile fading as his face hardened. I thought he might refuse until another, “Yes,” slipped past his lips.
Doc turned to me. “He’s aware of everything and knows who you are. Just think of it as his subconscious being in the driver’s seat while his conscious mind is taking a step back.”
“So he’ll remember this?” I asked.
“Yes,” Doc nodded. “He remembers everything. Ask him whatever you’d like.”
I moved away from the table I was leaning against to stand in front of Shadow. From here I could see that his eyelids weren’t fully closed. Even so, his eyes shifted back and forth under his lids as if he were dreaming.
“Hi Shadow,” I began.
“Hello Mariposa.”
It didn’t sound like him, the Shadow I knew, and that was jarring. I just had to remember that I was speaking to an earlier version of him. Hearing him address me in that strange voice seemed to make all the questions in my head vanish.
“You can ask him open-ended questions, but it helps if they are a bit specific,” Doc prompted me gently. “Going too broad might pull the thinking mind forward and take him out of the hypnotic state.”
I nodded, trying to maintain my focus and come up with something simple first. “Can I ask, when did you first start getting cut?”
“I don’t remember.” Shadow’s voice became flat, monotone. “In my earliest memories, I already had scars and cuts that were freshly bleeding.”
I pulled in a breath, fighting the wave of anger, the hurt on his behalf, to have been abused so young, as a toddler mostly likely. This was what I needed to know, and it was just the beginning.
“Who cut you?” I asked next.
“Everyone,” he answered. “Every woman drew blood from me during the days she bled on her monthly cycle. I deserved it. Men had been cruel to women for ages and it was only fair to make me bleed when they did.”
A hand came to my shoulder and it took me a moment to realize it was Doc, steadying me as I started to shake. He gave me a knowing, sympathetic look. He’d heard all this before, and from the tightness in his brow, it wasn’t any easier to hear the second time around.
“Where were your parents?” It was an impulsive question, a demand through gritted teeth. “How could they let you be treated like this?”
Shadow began to laugh.
Again, the sound was foreign to my ears, like someone else had possessed his body and was laughing through his mouth.
“Loving parents are a myth,” he scoffed. “I read about them in books, but they’re not real. Do you really want to know where my parents were?”
Doc’s hand squeezed my shoulder, a small warning. Even subconsciously, Shadow was trying to deflect. But I had to know. This information was probably the core of everything.
“Yes,” I said firmly. “Tell me about your parents.”
The strange grin faded from Shadow’s face, hardening into a scowl that I knew well.
“My mother became pregnant with me at fourteen years old,” he said. “You want to know who my father was? Her grandfather, who raped her.”
Air rushed out of my lungs like I had been kicked in the chest. My hand flew to my heart, pounding with a crazy mix of sympathy and fear as Shadow continued on, unprompted.
