Scene 7
"Hello."
The word, so simple yet so unexpected, hung in the air between the three of them. Matthew's heart, a frantic hummingbird against his ribs, stuttered to a halt. The familiar, placid calm of the pills was a distant memory, replaced by a cold wave of fear and confusion. He felt a desperate urge to run, to retreat into the safe, sterile silence of his room. The girl, "THE GIRL," was standing there, a ghost of fire and blue in his grayscale world, and her presence was a sudden, jarring reality.
"H-hi, uh..." Matthew stammered.
"You're... Matthew, right?" she asked, her voice a clear, melodic chime.
He blinked, the words feeling foreign and heavy on his tongue. "Uh... yeah. Yeah, that's me, uhm... what can I do for you?"
She smiled softened. "Nothing, really."
"I saw what you did, well, everyone did," she said, her smile not wavering.
Matthew's heart sank, the brief flicker of warmth and hope in his chest extinguished. He looked at Anthony, who was now staring at his lap, a portrait of awkwardness. He was waiting for the inevitable. The condemnation. The lecture. He deserved it. He had brutalized a man, turned him into a "human pincushion," as Dr. Sawyer had so eloquently put it. Matthew swallowed hard, preparing for the worst. "Oh... I... I shouldn't have done that," he mumbled, his gaze dropping to the gloppy pile of mashed potatoes on his tray. "I… I feel bad about it, honestly."
She tilted her head, her smile unwavering. "What, why? You shouldn't. Someone had to put him in his place. You should be proud of what you did."
Matthew's mind went blank. This wasn't the reaction he was expecting. The memory of the crowd cheering, their words of encouragement echoing in his mind, resurfaced, the rage, the guilt all replaced by a strange sense of relief and something else entirely, something he never felt before. It was as if his actions, so condemned by everyone else, were suddenly, miraculously, validated. A subtle, almost involuntary, smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He straightened his shoulders, a confident posture that was completely at odds with his usual demeanor.
Anthony, who had been watching the entire exchange with a wide-eyed fascination, cleared his throat and nudged Matthew's arm. "Uh, hey, Matt, I just remembered... I gotta go," he stammered, his eyes darting between the girl and Matthew. "Have an appointment with the doc... Something about.... uh... yeah."
And with that flimsy excuse, he gave a quick, awkward wave and scurried off, leaving the two of them alone.
A thick, expectant silence fell between Matthew and the girl. She glanced at the empty seat where Anthony had been. "Mind if I join you?" she asked, a polite formality in her tone that was a stark contrast to her previous boldness.
"Matthew shook his head, a silent invitation. She sat down, her tray, which she now placed on the table, held the same unappetizing food as his, but she ate it with a calm, practiced ease. Matthew, on the other hand, just stared at his, his appetite gone. He couldn't shake the feeling of dread that was growing inside him. The two of them sat in silence for a few more moments, the air charged with unspoken questions and a dawning sense of possibility.
Matthew's heart was pounding, a frantic drumbeat against his ribs. He felt a desperate need to know her name, to give a name to the splash of color she represented in his gray world. He opened his mouth, but she beat him to it, her voice a soft, gentle whisper that cut through the silence.
"My name's Evelyn."
"Evelyn," he repeats it, a silent vow to himself to never forget, before giving her a soft smile. "It's nice to meet you, Evelyn."
A soft smile played on Evelyn's lips as she watched him, her clear blue eyes holding a genuine warmth. "You too, Matthew."
Another silence descended, but this one felt different. It wasn't the heavy, anxious silence from his session with Dr. Sawyer, nor the awkward silence with Jade. This was a comfortable silence, filled with the gentle hum of the cafeteria and the quiet hum of possibility. Matthew's mind, which had been a placid lake of forced calm, now had a gentle breeze blowing across its surface. He glanced at her, then away, his heart still a frantic rhythm. Say something, you idiot. C'mon, just say something. Anything. Why aren't you saying anything? He internally berated himself. Say something, ask a question! Just don't let her leave!
He took a deep breath. "You know uhm... I was just thinking... how the hell am I supposed to talk to you?" he said, the words a raw, unfiltered confession. He gave a bitter, dry chuckle. "I've been... watching you for months. I know your routine, well we all have the same routine. I know what table you're going to sit at. I know what you do when you think... I..." He sighs, "I..."
DING
CLICK-CLACK
DING
A rhythmic, ancient chime broke through the background hum of the cafeteria. It was a deep, resonant tone, like the toll of a bell, followed by a series of precise, mechanical clicks. The sound was so out of place that it made Matthew's head snapped to the side, his gaze drawn by the sound. The clatter of trays, the murmur of voices, the ambient hum of the room—all of it seemed to fade into a muffled background, replaced by the mysterious noise. He stared, his brows furrowed in confusion.
"Do... Do you hear that?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper, his gaze fixed on a distant point in the cafeteria. He wasn't looking at her anymore. His full attention was on the sound, on the clicks and rings of a clock that wasn't there.
CLICK-CLACK
DING
Evelyn, her own expression a mix of concern and confusion, leaned forward. "Hear what, Matthew? What are you talking about?"
He didn't answer. From a distance, he saw it. A grandfather clock, an impossibly tall, dark mahogany figure with a swinging pendulum. Its long, slender body was half-submerged in the sterile white of the cafeteria's wall, its ornate carvings a jarring contrast to the smooth, featureless surface. It wasn't just in the wall; it was a part of it, as if the clock was growing out of the very fabric of the institution
Evelyn's voice, a desperate plea, tried to cut through the noise, but he couldn't hear her. He was lost in the sound, the sight of the impossible clock.
A soft, wet PLOP broke the silence. Matthew flinched and turned around, his gaze darting from the clock to Evelyn. But she was gone. The cafeteria was gone. Everything was gone. The world had dissolved into a deep, impenetrable darkness. There was no light, no sound, no sensation other than the cold, hard floor beneath his feet and his own shaky, panicked breathing.
He was standing alone, the only thing he could hear was his own shaky breathing, the frantic, panicked rhythm of his own heart.
"What the hell is going on?" he whispered, his voice trembling in the complete, disorienting darkness.
A single, brilliant spot of light bloomed in the distance, a small beacon in the oppressive void. And in that light, a figure was standing, completely still, watching him.
The boy.
The young boy from his room, pale and dripping wet, ever so silent in the light. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't crying. He was just... there. Waiting.
Matthew's jaw tightened. A question, a single, all-consuming question, burned in his mind. He wasn't scared anymore. He was angry. He clenched his fists, the rage he thought the pills had taken from him now a quiet, furious storm. He began to walk towards the boy, his footsteps echoing in the silence of the void.