Jamal’s face softened, his grin becoming a thin smile. “I got my freedom. The Judy’s whooped up on me. Put me in time out and did some extra punishments, but it all went uphill from there, friend. They decided me and Lysa should be separated; so I was assigned to a new playgroup. Now sure why I’m telling you all this. Just, you know…food for thought.” If it was possible to swagger and crawl at the same time, Jamal would have just done it.

Dante sat there. Stunned. Amazed. Disbelieving. He didn’t want to believe. But too much of it made sense. He brought his knees up to his chest and hugged them hard, as if they were his anchor to reality. He buried his face and closed his eyes, trying to shut out his senses. Maybe he fell asleep. When next he knew, Lysa was sitting next to him.

“You okay, Dante?” she asked. Dante just looked at her. His vision blurry, his eyes glassy. Had he been crying? He couldn’t remember?

“Why did you lie to me?” he whispered. Lysa brushed his almost too shaggy hair out of his face and looked him in the eyes.

“Sweetie, I already told you. It was the first day.”

“I meant today,” Dante pressed. Lysa looked confused. Hurt even. Was Jamal the one who was manipulating him? Had he fallen for some cruel practical joke? No. “You didn’t kill yourself. You cut your wrists the wrong way for you to bleed out.” Lysa shook her head, spasmed really.

“No, I said I slashed them left to right, not up to”

“It’s up to down to bleed out.” Dante growled. She HAD lied to him. She didn’t know the first thing about what she was speaking of.

“Oh,” Lysa paused. “Then it must have been the gunshot-”

“The gunshot?” Dante interrupted. “The one that killed your father?”

“It backfired on me when I went to shoot my dad again. I was dying anyways, so I slit my wrists to speed the process up. Make it less painful, you know.”

“You just told me this afternoon, that it was your foster father that you killed. That’s why your real parents were in Heaven.” Lysa’s jaw dropped. He had her trapped. He had her trapped and he hated it. Lysa bit her lip and bowed her head.

“Fine, you want the truth? Here’s the truth: I’m a royal fuckup. Just like you. My parents loved me, and gave me everything I ever wanted. Then I went and got pregnant.” Lysa looked up. Tears were flowing down her cheeks.

“I was lucky. I didn’t start showing till about six months. By then, everyone in school knew it, but my parents were clueless. It was…a different time then.” She wiped away here tears as more came seemingly unbidden.

“I was too ashamed to tell my parents, so I ran away. I lived on the streets doing…things…things I’m not proud of.” The phrase “hooker with the heart of gold” echoed in Dante’s mind. “I didn’t live well, but I lived. You’d be surprised,” she sniffed, “there’s a demand and a market for everything, even underage pregnant…” she sobbed a little, not finishing her sentence.

“I died giving birth to Caroline out on the streets. No hospital would take me. I never even got to feed her.” she cried. “And now we’re here. Forever. Because of me she never even got to have a life!”

Dante deadened himself inside. This was just too tragic to be true. He fought every compassionate instinct, every impulse to hold her and tell her it was okay. “You expect me to believe that story?” he managed to choke out.
“It’s the truth,” she whispered. “I swear. The only thing my parents ever did to me was let me choose whether or not I got baptized.” Either she was telling the truth, or she was a brilliant liar. No. Nononono. Fuck her. She lied to him She was probably lying now.

She must have sensed this. “You wanna know what my real anchor is, Dante?” she said wiping her nose on her sleeve, her face beet red. “Guilt. I’m the biggest screw-up in Limbo. Not only did I trap my daughter here, but almost every single person I’ve tried to help has ended up like Dori. I don’t deserve to check out mentally or escape. I don’t deserve to let go of that guilt.

“I tell those stories and lies about myself to try and help people. No one wants help from the screw-up. You feel sorry for the screw-up, but you never rely on them. Even if a screw-up is saying the exact thing you need to know and hear, you’re gonna ignore them. I didn’t want you to think I was a screw-up Dante. I wanted to help you. And now that I know you, I don’t want to lose you!”

She was baring her soul to him. But all Dante could feel right now was resentment, anger, rage. She had manipulated him so that she could feel better about herself. That no good little bitch. He had almost fallen in love with her, and all he was to her was a pet project to improve her track record. “Say something, Dante” she whispered, “please talk to me. I- I’m sorry. I…I…I…I lo-”

“- And you’re going to fail me too so you can have more guilt to hang onto? Is that it?! I’m part of your pity party?!” Dante couldn’t let her finish that sentence. He’d have been trapped forever if she had finished that sentence. Lysa just shook her head. She was biting her lip so hard, a bit of blood trickled out. “You gonna keep telling me lies? Distract me till I end up like Dori? That way you can teach me pet tricks so I’ll bite and cry on command too?!”

Lysa pleaded with him. “That’s not it at all! Please….just listen to m-”

“FUCK YOU!” Dante roared, “YOU DON’T GET TO BE THE VICTIM HERE. YOU AREN’T THE VICTIM! YOU NEVER WERE! YOU’RE JUST A STUPID SPOILED WHOR-”

SMACK!

Lysa’s hand came right across Dante’s face. The whole play area stopped. Silent. Everyone was looking at them. There was no covering it up this time. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jamal, smiling, giving him the thumbs up. Now was the time. It was now or never.

Dante reared back his hand, clenching it into a fist. Lysa shrunk back. “You talked to Jamal,” she whispered, her voice quavering with fear.” Dante clenched his fist, and closed his eyes, and swung. His aim hit true.

WHAM! CRACK!

Dante Willis broke his own nose as he punched himself in the face. He couldn’t do it. He just couldn’t bring himself to hit her, even after the truth came out. He hated her right now. Hated her lies, her meddling, her stupid fucking pigtails. Note amended: FUCK. HER. But he couldn’t bring himself to strike her. It was wrong. He was not Jamal Adams and he never would be, even if meant he was doomed to become a baby.

Blood gushed from his nose and his vision flooded with saline. Lyrics danced around his brain as he continued to brutalize himself. “I wanna put my tender, heart in a blender, watch it spin around to a beautiful oblivion. Rendezvous then I’m through with you.” Great. Just great. Here he flipping out, and the best his brain could manage was Eve 6. Lysa just staid there, crying, pulling on her pigtails as she curled up in a fetal position; reliving a past trauma she had suffered.

Judy’s rushed to Dante. They kissed his nose and it healed. Even the blood was instantly gone. He didn’t care. He kept crying. They checked his diaper and found him dry. He kept crying. They blew raspberries on his tummy. He giggled for two seconds as a wave of happiness surged through him, and then cried harder.

They were forced to treat him like any mother without super powers would. All they could do was just take turns holding him, and try to comfort him with their presence and touch. He let them. He didn’t put up a fight. If he cried loud enough, the mommies would pay more attention to him, and he needed attention right now. At least the Judy’s were honest in their intentions. You knew what to expect from them.

Dante Willis cried all through dinner, all through bath time, and eventually bawled himself to sleep. He didn’t know whether his tears were that of a whining child or of a heart-broken man. And that was what scared him the most.

Next Chapter: Threshold