Mouth

Mikey walked slowly down the hall of the old church he was in, the dust swirling around in the fading light like a small sandstorm. He paused at a window, watching as the lady he met on the way in backed out of her spot in the parking lot. He observed her as she pulled away, no doubt eager to get home after a late night at work.

The double doors of the room he had been directed to were standing open, but still he knocked softly on them before crossing the threshold. The man waiting inside looked up from his notepad. He was a peculiar looking man, an angular face sporting a huge hooked nose, all framed by a curly mop of grey hair.

“Ah, Mr. Williams, I presume?” The man said, rising and extending his hand. Mikey shook it, noting the man’s steady eye contact. In those eyes, Mikey saw warmth, compassion and…something else. Mikey thought it might be curiosity. Mikey appreciated all of these qualities, and decided he liked this guy. It made him a little sad.

“That’s right,” Mikey replied. “You must be Dr. King?”

“No, no,” the man replied, shaking his hands in a self-effusive gesture. “I’m not a doctor. Sam King is my name, you can call me Sam, or Mr. King, whichever you prefer.”

“Oh, okay,” Mikey said. “I, uh…well, the details were all pretty light. Ms. Ruth didn’t tell me a whole lot.”

“Ruth is a hell of a nurse, isn’t she?” Sam said.

“The best,” Mikey replied. “One of the few who really seems to care.”

“It’s a tough profession,” Sam said, shaking his head sadly. “Well, she has sent a few patients my way, and I’m happy to say I’ve been able to help many of them.”

“That’s great,” Mikey said. “So, um, what exactly is it you do?”

There were a few chairs in the room, gathered in a loose semi-circle, and Sam pulled two aside so they were facing each other. He gestured Mikey towards one. “Have a seat and I’ll tell you.”

Mikey did as he was asked, and he took his first proper look around the room. It looked like a conference or study room turned into a Sunday school. All four walls were surrounded by thin brown paneling, bulging and sagging in most places. The shaggy brown carpet was disgusting, splotched and splattered from years of punch and pizza parties.

“Mike…may I call you Mike?” Sam said.

“Sure,” Mikey said.

“Mike, people come to me with many problems, often problems they’ve dealt with a long time. I deal in helping to find solutions to these problems. Sort of a…hail Mary for people who can’t find help elsewhere.”

“Well, that’s definitely me,” Mikey said.

“So I’ve gathered. Why don’t we just start from the top, and you tell me what it is that’s bothering you? Sam said.

“Well, I don’t really know where to start,” Mikey replied. “What did Ms. Ruth tell you?”

“Very little, at my request. I want as little bias as possible when evaluating someone new,” Sam said seriously. You see, when people have tried everything they can think of, any pre-conceived notions I get will inevitable lead me in the same directions. As I said, I’m not a doctor, certainly not of the television variety that can magically diagnose a patient in one sitting. No, I simply let the facts take me where they will, and go from there. Sound good?”

“Uh, yeah, sure,” Mikey said.

“Good,” Sam replied, making a circling gesture with his hand. “In that case, tell me what’s ailing you, son.”

“So…I wasn’t kidding when I said I don’t know where to start. It’s…no one believes me. And the thing is, it’s kind of hard to blame them.”

“Why don’t you try me?” Sam said.

Mikey considered it for a second. He hated telling people about his condition, for obvious reasons. It was something he shared neither often nor lightly, at least not once he was old enough to know it wasn’t normal. But, screw it, that’s what he was supposedly here for, right?

“I have an invisible monster,” Mikey said. He said this matter-of-factly; there was really no other way to say it.

Sam barely reacted. Most people might not have noticed he reacted at all, but Mikey had learned how to read faces at an early age. It was in the eyes, how they narrowed (just barely!) before opening back up a little too wide, as though in compensation for their betrayal.

“What do you mean, a monster?” Sam asked.

“Exactly how it sounds. I have a monster, one that follows me everywhere I go. He’s been with me all my life,” Mikey said.

Sam considered this for a moment. He opened his mouth, paused, and then closed it again. He leaned back in his chair, put his notebook on his lap and crossed his arms.

“Is it here with you now?” Sam asked.

Mikey glared at him for a second, long enough to hopefully get his point across. “It follows me everywhere, Sam. That includes here.”

“Of course,” Sam replied. “My apologies. What does this monster look like? Does it have a name?”

“It’s invisible,” Mikey said, in that same matter-of-fact voice. “And I don’t know if it has a name or not, but I’ve always called it Mouth.”

“Mouth?” Sam repeated. “That’s an interesting name.”

“Yeah, well, like I said…I’ve had it all my life,” Mikey replied.

“Ok…tell me more about Mouth.”

“What would you like to know?”

Sam uncrossed his arms and spread them wide, then put them behind his head. “Whatever you’d like to tell me.”

Mikey shifted uncomfortably. “I dunno, you’re supposed to be the expert here. I’ve got a personal monster, what else can I say?”

“Well, what does it do? Can you talk to it?” Sam asked.

“I can talk to it, sure,” Mikey said. “But it isn’t much of a talker back.”

“What kinds of things does Mouth do?”

Mikey’s brow furrowed. “Bad things, usually.”

“What kind of bad things?”

“He…painful things, usually. It likes to hurt me,” Mikey said. He rolled his eyes, feeling embarrassed already. “I know how stupid this sounds.”

“No, not stupid,” Sam said. “Unique? Perhaps, but certainly not stupid. Let me ask you this: you say Mouth is invisible, and doesn’t talk to you. How do you know it’s there?”

“I just do,” Mikey said.

Sam nodded as though he understood, though it was obvious to Mikey he did not. “When did you first notice Mouth?”

“As long as I can remember,” Mikey said. “My very first memory is of me telling my mom about it. He was hurting me, always hurting me. I was crying, and she couldn’t understand what I was trying to tell her. That was also the first time I went to a hospital. The first of many trips.”

“What has the hospital tried to do about Mouth?” Sam asked.

“Nothing. Everything,” Mikey said. “Mouth isn’t something they can fix. Oh they tried, for a while. They were sure it was this, or that. Current diagnosis is fibromyalgia, I think. They’ve just given me an explanation convenient to them.”

“Are you on any medications?”

Mikey laughed; a harsh, humorless bark that hurt Sam to hear. “Yes. Yes I am. A little bit of everything. Psyche meds, nerve meds, mood balancers, uppers, downers, the whole lot. Except for the pain pills. They’ve really tightened up on those, of course. The one thing that actually helped.”

“Why do you think they helped Mike?” Sam asked.

Mikey glared at him again. “Because I’m in pain Sam.” His voice took on a mocking tone with that last word. He hated himself for allowing it to slip in there; Sam was only trying to help him.

“I’m sorry,” Mikey said. “It’s just, being in pain…”

“It changes you,” Sam finished for him.

“Yeah,” Mikey agreed. “It does.”

“How does Mouth hurt you, exactly?”

“It just…does,” Mikey said. He could feel Mouth now, poking at the edge of his consciousness. Always there, always.

“Has it ever hurt others?” Sam asked.

“Oh yes,” Mikey said. “It has. And it isn’t going to stop.”

“Now don’t say that, Mike,” Sam said. “I know things feel dark now, but there’s always hope for a better tomorrow.”

“Not for some of us,” Mikey said. He grimaced. He could feel Mouth stronger now, he knew it wouldn’t be much longer.

“I…I’m really sorry Sam,” Mikey continued. Something in Mikey’s voice made the hair on Sam’s arms stand on end. They looked into each other’s eyes. Sam’s full of confusion and growing alarm. Mikey’s remorseful and, something else. It looked to Sam something like hunger.

Sam stood. “Mikey, if you’ll excuse me, I need to check something with my assistant.” He started to walk towards the door, but Mikey grabbed him by the arm.

“No, she left when I got here,” he said, his voice almost sad. His head twitched slightly, the pain now palpable on his face. He stood as well. Sam jerked his arm away, backing away from Mikey slowly.

“Mike…I’m trying to help you. Don’t do anything rash, just have a seat and we’ll figure this out.”

“I’m really sorry. It’s not me…it’s Mouth. I don’t want this to happen.”

“Mike, Mouth isn’t real. Can’t you see that?”

“I knew you wouldn’t believe me. No one ever does, at first,” Mikey said. His head twitched again, shaking from side to side. It was almost time. “I’m sorry.” He said one last time.

Sam opened his mouth to plead his case again, but his words died in his throat. Finally he saw what Mikey knew was there all along. He saw the truth.

“He’s just so hungry, Sam, and I stopped being enough,” Mikey said, the sadness in his voice slowly draining away. Sam tried to scream, but found nothing came out. He felt a presence, an indescribable void of warmth nearby, and then the darkness took him.