Chapter 1
What have I lost?
I dump the contents of my Versace purse onto my bed. Keys to the beat up Mustang? Check. That slutty shade of lipstick? Check. My ex-husband’s credit cards? Check.
Outside, the sun scolds the withering grass. A pair of lovebirds is perched on a tree branch, watching me expectantly. I stare back.
A thought nudges my mind. I shut my eyelids, grasping at the loose threads.
My eyes pop open. The birds were sent here to spy on me. The government, the government I used to spy for before they fired me. Damn the government. “Not able to keep a clear mind. No sign of rational thought” is how they justified themselves after I discovered the pigeons in the cafeteria, sent by the Russians to hack into the nuclear system. “We don’t even have a nuclear center,” they insisted.
I nearly fall out of the freshly-laundered sheets as I stumble to the window. My tongue sticks out as I let out a vicious shriek. A knot of greasy hair gets caught on the rusty hinges, so I yank the lock from my scalp. The lovebirds keep recording.
“Little fuckers! See you in hell, all of you.” My voice grows hoarse as two people rush into my room.
“There, there, Mama.” The woman’s lips pull into a strained smile as they help me back into bed.
One of them I recognize: my daughter’s face, twenty years tacked on by the puffy crescents beneath bloodshot eyes. The other, cocooned in a stark white coat, also seems familiar. I keep shouting obscenities at the lovebirds as they retreat into the hallway.
The lovebirds keep staring back, the cameras embedded into their eyes catching my every move. I reach for my keys and, taking aim, chuck it at the window. Startled, they fly away.
Hushed voices squeeze through the cracks of the door. I catch a mention of schiz. What the hell’s schiz?
I uncap the tube of lipstick in the shade Fetish, then smear the waxy paste on my skin, applying a generous amount to my forehead and cheeks, just to see what it feels like. But the top breaks off.
A bitter laugh bubbles up as the loose threads begin weaving together.
Ah, yes. I recall what I’ve lost, the reason why my husband has forsaken me in this psych ward. Why my daughter, after years of unanswered phone calls, has flown twenty hours just to see her dear old mama.
I’ve lost my mind.
