Dante poked at his crotch and experimentally tried to bring his legs together. All the same. No difference. Just his imagination. The extra puffiness was just in his head. Jamal Adams crawled up to his corner of solitude. As always, Jamal wore his usual asshole smile, as well as a white t-shirt and denim shortalls. (Son of a bitch). You could barely see where the diaper was unless you knew what to look for.
“Heeeeey buddy,” Jamal said, all teeth, not even trying to conceal his insincerity. “Hoooow-ya-doin?” he sang.
“Fuck off, dude. I’m in no mood.” Dante tensed, “I know what just happened by the changing table, alright. You can go around making fun of me. Just leave me alone.”
“For the record, kid,” Jamal replied, “it’s not like everyone just stops and watches every time the Judy’s gather ’round you so they can see you humiliate yourself.” he paused. “But yes, I did see it, and likely so did most of the playroom the way you two were carrying on. Her all cheery and giggly that you were pissing into the wind, and you acting like you…that is to say, a freakshow baby.”
Dante just stared at him. It would be so totally worth it to punch him in the face. Right now. One swing.
“Anyway,” Jamal went on, ignoring Dante’s death glare, “I just thought I take my time to say my goodbyes.”
“Where are you going?” Dante asked. Shit. He just walked into that one.
“I’m not going anywhere, kid.” Jamal answered, “It’s you.” (Told ya.) When a kid starts acting like well, how YOU were just a minute ago without the aid of angel milk, that means their getting close to the threshold.” Dante was confu-
“And before you cock an eyebrow and go ‘Threshold?’,” Jamal interrupted Dante’s train of thought, “let me break it down for ya. You’re close to crossing the line, kid, that point of no return. A few more awkward steps, and everything that you are takes a permanent vacation, and everything that you were circa- I’m guessing 1995?- takes up residence. Nice knowin’ ya kid.”
Dante bit his lip. He wanted to argue, but he couldn’t right then. He just couldn’t. Jamal tilted his head, and an emotion that might have been sympathy crossed his face.
“Well this isn’t nearly as fun as I thought it would be,” he said. He sat against a wall so that he was more or less sitting beside Dante instead of in front of him. “Look kid,” Jamal said, dropping his arm around Dante all chummy-like, “if it makes you feel any better, it’s not really your fault. You never really stood a chance.” Dante didn’t reply or ask. He just listened.
“I’m guessing you had a relatively normal and stable life, am I right? Sure I am.” Jamal went on, not waiting for Dante to respond. “Your parents loved you, you loved them, all that good stuff. Kids like you? You don’t last here in this place. You just don’t. You have all of these happy, fuzzy memories of child hood. That way, it’s easier to slip back into those old roles. You secretly want to, even if you don’t want to admit it.” He took his arm away.
“Me and the rest of us who survive here- not so much. None of us had it good back then, so we keep our sanity now. Take Kevin over there.” he pointed to Kevin, the play-doh kid. “Kevin died of AIDS, before they even really knew what AIDS was. Bad blood transfusion or something.
“He was so angry with life that he got kicked out of 3 different schools for fighting. Funny thing is, everyone was so scared of catching his AIDS, that nobody ever fought back; they didn’t want to make him bleed. He told me once that he started making the play-doh people when he was a kid to use them like voo-doo dolls on the kids he picked fights with.
“Vivian,” Jamal pointed to her who was even now making an exquisite piece of art using nothing but finger paint and construction paper, “is a genius. But she has a rare mental disorder that makes it impossible for her to differentiate the passage of time. If you pissed her off once a year ago, all of those feelings, all that anger, that hurt, is just as fresh to her now as if you had just insulted her today. Even I don’t mess with her. I hear the painting helps with that though. Meh.”
“You know what little Dori was?” Jamal asked rhetorically. “A schoolgirl. An average school girl that had the bad luck to get hit by a drunk driver. But she’s all better now. And soon you will be, too.” Midori was busy rolling on the floor and giggling at the top of her lungs.
“And what about you?” Dante asked. “What’s your story?”
“I’d tell you kid.” Jamal answered, “But seeing as how you just got changed into a fresh one, I’d hate to ruin it by telling you. Besides, you forgot to ask about your little Lysa.” Dante’s eyes narrowed. “I saw the kiss. Good huh? That kiss means that she has you wrapped around her finger. Did she tell you that you were a swell guy? She loves that line.”. Dante wanted to tell Jamal where he could stick it. He wanted to punch Jamal’s teeth down his throat, but something made him stay silent and still.
“Lysa’s the oldest kid still sane in this place.” Jamal whispered, “She’s a true survivor. Fuck, she might be my role model if she wasn’t a sociopath and a compulsive liar.” He shot Dante a smile. It wasn’t friendly. “She tell you one about how her dad killed her little sister, then she killed him and offed herself in grief?”
“It was her daughter, and her foster father.” Dante growled.
“Oh, so you already caught her in that first lie, eh?” Jamal hissed. “That’s her favorite. You must have had her cornered for her to whip out her backup. If you call her on that one, she does a one-eighty and is the hooker with the heart of gold. You really think she killed herself?”
“She did kill herself,” Dante insisted.
“Wake up kid!” Jamal practically shouted. Then backed down to a whisper. “Suicides don’t last here. They don’t make it a month, yet alone close to sixty years. Self-haters didn’t have the will to go on in the first life. Why would they persevere in the after-life? Besides, she keeps fucking one big thing up.” He shuffled around so that he was looking Dante straight in the eye.
“When she told you that story? Did she say she cut her wrists like this?” He dragged his fingers across his wrist, just like Lysa had. Dante nodded. “Where have you been dude?” Jamal said. “Everybody knows, that for wrist slitting it’s go ‘down-the-lane’ not ‘across-the-street’”. He mimed slitting his own wrist downward. “It’s like she almost wants to get caught.”
He was right. How had that slipped by him? “How do you know all this?” Dante asked.
“Because, kid.” Jamal looked Dante straight in the eye. “Once upon a time, I was you. When I first got here, they put me in that playpen with Lysa and Midori and I heard the same lies that you’ve heard. About keeping control, accepting it, not thinking of escape, fighting it by not fighting. Sound familiar?” Dante must have nodded with his eyes if not with his head.
“Yeah, I thought so.” Jamal nodded. “New fish always get brought to Lysa, especially the fighters. Because she cracks them. By the time she’s done with them, they’re nothing more than Dori over there. She destroys your sense of self better than the Judy’s ever could just by babying you.
“I don’t know if she’s a screw up, or plays the Judy’s game so that they go easy on her, or what. Truth is, I don’t care. But Lysa gets respected around here because she’s the litmus test that determines whether or not you keep your shit together in here.”
“Wanna know how I passed?” Jamal asked, grinning wickedly. Dante shook his head. Jamal answered anyway. “I beat the shit out of her. When I realized what she was doing to me; that I was becoming more infant than man, I knew I had to break ties with her. Had to get her voice out of my head. So I beat her. Badly.” Dante’s eyes went wide. The lump in his throat expanded. He started to sweat.
“I won’t go into the details, but it was pretty fucked up.” Jamal grinned like the Cheshire Cat. “Good thing nobody can actually die here, and the Judy’s can kiss it all better in an instant. But the real finishing touch? I bit off her ear and swallowed it. She got it back, eventually. Best change I ever had. Heheh, why do you think Lysa trained Midori to be her attack dog?” There was silence for a few minutes. Jamal, a cat staring at Dante as if he were a piece of meat. Dante, a mouse hearing about salvation from the Devil.
“Then what happened?” Dante finally asked.