Page 63 of Haven't Killed in Years
A bulky male attendant waiting by the door—idle meat, necessary in any group setting—uncrossed his arms and took two communicative steps toward the boy. Declan stomped off toward him.
Natalie looked to Gwen and smiled in thanks for the intervention. Gwen offered a thumbs-up, which made Natalie chuckle.
“Enough, girls,” the woman muttered, exhausted with the session and probably her life. The attention only fueled the girls’ snickers. It was infectious. Then more kids were laughing. It was all a chain reaction, but to Natalie, in that moment, it felt like acceptance.
- - - - -
Three weeks later andNatalie had still not said a word during group. It drove Declan to corner her in art class, another of her newly earned rewards. Art was just a time during the day when kids sat in a room that had paper and markers. There was no teacher, only an attendant who sat in the front to make sure nothing went horribly wrong.
Declan slid into the empty seat next to her. “Nice picture, Natalie,” he teased as he scooted his chair closer to hers.
She looked down at her drawing—a red dragon, peacefully asleep on a cloud. She wasn’t much of an artist, but she liked drawing; she liked the idea of fantasy. Her hands gravitated toward each other, the one closest to him empty, the other holding an off-brand marker.
“Where’s your pit bull?” he asked, referring to Gwen, as if the pet name would disguise his apprehension.
Natalie rubbed at the knuckle on her pointer finger, bent above the marker as it remained ready to return to coloring.
“Are you mute?” he asked. “Can you even talk?”
She continued to ignore him, staring down, maneuvering her full fist around the marker.
Declan reached over and grabbed her paper, shattering her focus.
“What are you doing?” she said.
“Ah.” He revealed his teeth. “She does speak.”
Natalie tried to take her paper back, but he yanked it away.
“Relax,” he said. “You’re going to like this.” Declan picked up a black marker and took it to Natalie’s picture. Just beyond the face of the sleeping dragon, he added an oversized cartoon penis. “Wakey-wakey,” he pretended to say to the dragon before using the marker to shoot black lines from the tip of the penis into the dragon’s face—over and over, until you could barely see any of the red drawing underneath.
Natalie tightened her grip on the marker she was holding. She knew this feeling so well. Her whole body tingled. She was angry, helpless, and starting to tune out. Then everything went quiet.
Natalie swung her arm around and jammed the marker into Declan’s ear. Tears welled in her vacant, bloodshot eyes as she pounced, clawing at the boy’s face. He tried to fight her off, but he was no match for her like this.
The attendant ran to pull Natalie away. His arm snaked around her neck, tearing her back with a choke hold until she was down on the ground. Another attendant ran into the room and the two grown men lifted Natalie to her feet. She was dragged into the hall, kicking and screaming, down to the infirmary, where she was restrained and drugged until she drooled, just as Gwen had warned.
- - - - -
They kept Natalie inisolation for two days after she stabbed Declan in the ear before bringing her back to her room to sleep off theremaining sedatives in her system. She barely remembered coming back when she woke up the next morning.
Gwen sat on the edge of her bed, staring as Natalie rubbed her eyes until they could stay open.
“Welcome back,” said Gwen. “What happened?”
“Nothing.” Natalie sighed.
Gwen raised her eyebrows. “I can’t help if you don’t tell me.”
“I stabbed Declan with a marker.”
“That’s it?” Gwen said. “I saw his face.”
If she knew, then why did she ask?Natalie didn’t want to talk about it, but Gwen didn’t care.
“Why’d you do it?” Gwen asked.
Natalie shrugged. “He was bothering me.”
