Wake up in the morning. Can’t recall dream because it’s always blurry and also I don’t actually want to. Slide out from under the human I’ve tricked into loving ‘me’ and head into the bathroom. Stare at self in mirror. Actual self. Verity self. Wait to see if this is the day I get a handle on my shit.
My name is Verity and I-
A vision comes in, blinding and jagged. A lot of blood. All over me. And I like it.
Concede that this not the day I get a handle on my shit. Open cabinet, take out pills. Count them into my shaking hands. One, three, five, nine. Swallow them with a handful of tap water. Lean on sink to steady myself. Wait for the calm to set in. Thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight. One more vision, duller this time. The sound of metal connecting with bone. A scream. Or a laugh, then a scream. Three, two, one.
Get towel and begin traditional ‘getting ready’ configuration. Become ‘Ivy’. Shit. Shower. Human comes in. Shaves while I clean my teeth. Discuss ‘plans’. Make breakfast. Eat breakfast. Change channels when news about the investigation comes on. Take bins out before we leave. Black car rolls into view. Walk up to it and tap on the window. Handler opens door. Get in.
Have you eaten?
Handler puts the worst pill in mouth. Like a battery has exploded on my tongue. Wretch at least once.
Have you swallowed it?
Look at me.
Look at him. Deep in his hazy green eyes.
Tell me to what to do.
Kiss me. Slide your fingers inside me. Make me moan.
Shoot the driver.
Nothing happens, except the blood trickling down my nose. Handler nods and hands me the same old bloody monogrammed handkerchief. Wonder why he keeps, what he does with it. Know, deep down, what he does with it.
Enjoy the rest of the day.
Get out of the car. Call him a cunt under my breath. Wretch again one more time before I back into the house. Put on my coat. Wait for human partner to finish charging his phone.
Go back out into the world. Walk side by side, in time. Remember to blink. Remember to nod and smile. Remember what stop to get off. Remember to kiss him before I go. Remember pass. Remember seat. Remember lunch time. Remember to eat. Wonder what the real ‘Ivy’ would have eaten, would have worn. Remember to go back to work. Remember to get a coffee. Make small talk. Spot dealer. Remember not to follow him into the parking lot. Follow him anyway. Listen to him talk about Rembrandt, Bach. Snort a line off his wrist. Lick his wrist. Let him kiss me, but not on the mouth. Think for a second I can see-
Go back into work. Back to my desk. Become the master of spreadsheets. Leave when the clock hits six. Meet human partner for a drink. Flirt. Touch his leg. Think I see-
Kiss partner on the train platform. Barely make it through the door. Clothes in the hallway. The bathroom. Afterwards, put on partner’s sweatshirt. Eat the takeout I don’t remember ordering in bed. Watch a film with my eyes but not my brain. Switch off the lights. Never close eyes. Stare with purpose. I know he’s not really here, but I feel like he is. Will him to be. In the corner of the room, at the window, on the ceiling. I can see him. If I remember him, I can see him. Grayson. I whisper his name over and over and over and over until I fall asleep.
Grayson. Thia. Asher. Blake. Me. Can’t forget.
Over and over and over.
It’s morning. Wake up. Can’t recall dream because it’s always blurry and also I don’t actually want to, and also it never happened. I don’t really sleep anymore. Not since they split us up.