Everything According to Plan (For Someone, at Least) The psychiatrists were not psychiatrists. Yes, they dressed in lab coats and walked around with clipboards, but that was merely to impress the parents and intimidate the students of St. Adelaide’s. They mostly just did what the Director told them and didn’t think about it. To be fair, they didn’t think much at all. Deep down somewhere, there was a semblance of personality left, dimly they were aware of the fact that they were broken. Occasionally they even remembered past times when they had had names and friends and hobbies. And then the Director had broken them. Her “Little Failures” as she called them. But then the feeling would fade and they’d go back to being nothing again. Every day, they woke up at the same time, did the same things all day, went to bed at the same time. No way to tell one day from all the others. Not that they cared or remembered much, anyway. Always the same. The exact same. Until it wasn’t. Until the one night when they were woken before their time. One of the students was out of bed. They all stood as one, immediately awake. A student is out of bed. A student is out of bed. Where is the student? Find the student. Find the student. First two went, always go in pairs. They made their way to Bloch, not even noticing the cold, or the snow. That didn’t matter. Only the student mattered. As soon as the doors opened, they could hear them. There were two students out of bed. And they were banging... pans together? Somewhere in the far back of their minds a question arose, but then the blissful mist fell once more and the singular purpose of detaining the students overcame them again. The girl, blonde, sunny, ran ahead of them. Was she leading them some—detain the student. The boy, dark, pale, was a few paces ahead of her, near a corner. Why was he smi—detain the student. They reached the corner, the boy just a single length ahead, rounded it... trap trap, this is a—detain the student. And the boy stretched out his hand and there was darkness, suffocating darkness. And pain, and for an instant they remembered something: pain, sensation, fea—detain the student. But they couldn’t. The rotating saw blade had sliced their legs off. Pain, pain, hahahahahahahahaha feeling feeling love love death dea— When they didn’t come back, three more were sent. Detain the student. Into Bloch, down the hall, the sounds of pans. Why is the girl not hiding—detain the student. Detain. Detain. Detain. Not possible with a drill shoved through a chest, pinned against a wall, still trying to walk forward for a moment before pain pain pain, the satisfaction of a project finished, the sun shining, the feel of her lips... Memories, feelings hahahahaha they cried and laughed as tears ran down their faces. And then they died. Four were sent, the last four. Somehow nervous, filled with trepi—detain the student. Bloch, hall, pans, where is she leadin—detain the student. The hallway opened up into a chamber of death, saws, drills, spears, the whole shop’s arsenal put to use, before the blissful darkness hit. How had no one seen this constructed? Why had no one stoppe—detain detain detain. Fuck that. Not with this hurt, the terrible, wonderful pain coursing through every inch of their bodies. Graduation so close it can be tasted, leaves rustling on the trees, that first, painful breaking of the heart. Everything flooding back. So sweet so wonderful let me hold onto it. Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha And then they died. ~~ o ~~ “Shit,” Doug turned the corner and almost vomited. Victor stood in the middle of the hallway, his lab coat and rubber gloves covered in blood and other substances that Doug didn’t care to place. Around him were the bodies of nine psychiatrists, decapitated, pinned against the wall, body parts strewn across the tile floor. “I know we said to... get rid of them, but did ya really need to do it so... uh, violently?” Victor looked around as if seeing the carnage for the first time. It probably was, since his goggles were so covered in red that he must have been nearly blind before he’d pushed them off of his face. “Well,” he began, seeming a little shocked himself. “I always wanted to try my death machine out properly.”
“I’d say you did a pretty good job of that.” “Hmm, maybe,” Victor began. “I think I relied on Gil’s darkness too much. If I had more time, I could have made it much more elegant.” Doug wanted to look away, but he was having difficulties. “Where are Gil and Sonia, by the way?” It seemed as if Victor was only half-paying attention, fiddling with one of the saw blades. “Gil was here a minute ago, but I think he took Sonia away so she wouldn’t see, he said he’d meet you outside. I also wish I had a way to dispose of the bodies,” he continued without heed. “But that would require major reconstruction of this hallway.” “Why are they all smiling? The... bodies, I mean,” Doug managed to spit out. “It’s kind of creepy.” “I don’t know,” Victor admitted. “It was nothing I did. A couple of them started laughing as well.” This whole time, Victor had hardly spared a glance towards the victims of his death machine. He seemed purely interested in the machine itself, almost like he didn’t realize that he’d actually put the thing to use. It kind of gave Doug the heebie-jeebies. It was as if Victor didn’t feel anything at all... ~~ o ~~ The Director did feel something, a small stab of remorse for the loss of her mistakes. She had worked so hard on them, they had given themselves—however unwillingly—for the success of Project Paragon. They were empty now, completely controllable, like cattle. It was a shame to see them finally taken to the slaughter. But their destruction was necessary to give those wannabe revolutionaries hope, and besides, she didn’t need them anymore. After tonight, this whole school would soon prove completely unnecessary. She laughed to herself. Everything was going exactly as planned. ~~ o ~~ Jilli and Mike waited in the girl’s bathroom on the fourth floor, sitting against the walls on the hard tile. “Originally it was just going to be Abby and I,” Jilli explained. “How does it feel finally seeing the place where girls pee, Mi-kun?” Slightly disappointing, if he was honest. Some part of him had expected fluffy couches and perfume dispensers. But it looked just like the boys, just with more stalls and with the puke green walls replaced by an equally hideous pink. “Like a dream come true,” he replied instead. “That was kind of sarcastic for you,” Jilli commented, raising an eyebrow. “Are you feeling okay, Mike? You’ve seemed a little off lately...” What could he tell her? That he’d spent the last week in a downward spiral? That his normal, ordinary world was slowly coming apart at its seams? “I haven’t gotten a lot of sleep lately.” “Having trouble adjusting?” “Yeah, you could say that.” There was silence for a minute, Mike’s last words echoing dismally around the tile. “Look,” he said finally, “about the other day. I know you had a session.” Jilli looked downwards, drawing in a deep breath. “You want to know what happened, right?” He did, more than anything. But that wasn’t something he could just ask of her. “No. I just want to know if you’re okay.” “You know the answer to that,” she laughed bitterly. “But thank you for your concern. You’re a good kid.” Mike wished she wouldn’t call him that. He wished she didn’t see him that way. He wasn’t a kid any more than Jilli herself, or Victor, or Abigail. Or Doug. “Hey Jilli,” he began, trying to find the right words to use. He wanted to ask her so many things, why she saw him that way, about the exact nature of her relationship with his roommate, and how much she really knew about him. “About Doug—” “It’s time!” came a new voice, a moment after the bathroom door creaked open and Abigail burst through. “Victor’s trap worked, and Gil and Doug are closing the gate!” Jilli stood, a curious expression crossing her face. “Alright then, here we go. Are you ready to meet the Director, Mike?” Past thoughts of teenage crap mostly set aside, Mike straightened. “I think so...” A ripple of anxiety mixed with excitement ran through the three of them, and one by one, they exited the girl’s bathroom. They could see the door to the Director’s office just down the hall. It was a plain, unassuming wood door with its only embellishment being a single pane of frosted glass near the top. It went so against everything Mike knew about the Director that he briefly wondered if Jilli had the right door. But nope, there was a small, gold plate engraved with the titular words screwed into the wood at eye level. There was no mistaking it. This was it. “Here we go,” Jilli mumbled, reaching for the dull, brash doorknob. Mike nearly shivered, and he could feel Abigail bouncing with anticipation next to him. Taking a deep breath, closing her eyes, Jilli trembled... and pulled the door open. But then she paused, and Mike tried to crane his neck to see inside. “What?” she said finally, and took a step into the room. Mike followed close behind, and he had to blink to process what he saw. The room... was empty. Well, not entirely. There was a desk in the middle, its surface perfectly clear save for a layer of dust. There were also several bookshelves, all bare. Even the floor was perfectly clean. “No. No...” Jilli moved to the desk, pulling open the drawers with an increasing frenzy. But the hollow sound they made was all Mike needed to know that they too were vacant. “No nononono!” Bracing herself against the desk, Jilli shook her head in despair. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this!” Abigail crept in silently behind them. “Jilli, what were you expecting to find?” she asked gently, placing a hand on Jilli’s shoulder. “I-I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Something, anything. Just anything at all to... to tell me why. But there’s nothing here. There’s nothing.” Her knees finally gave out on her, and she sunk to the floor, trying to hide the anguished sobs that had begun to wrack her body. “Nothing, nothing, nothing...” “Oh dear,” Abigail leaned down and, with Mike’s help, managed to get her to her feet. “I’m going to get her out of here. You coming?” But as Mike took a second look around, something began to bug him. “You go ahead,” he said. “I think I’m going to stay here for a minute.” Abigail quickly bowed out, leaving Mike alone. He ran his foot along the wood floor, and frowned. It didn’t make any sense. The desk and bookshelves were practically covered in duct, so why was the floor so clean? It was probably nothing, but Mike’s gut was telling him otherwise. So he began to systematically go through the room. He examined the desk carefully, even running a hand along the underside. He stepped on any spot on the floor that seemed discolored or out of place. Mike didn’t know what he was looking for in the first place, but something about the perfectly empty office seemed too convenient for him. Just before he was about to give up, he decided to flip the light switch off and on for good measure, And he was immediately greeted by a grinding sound as the bookshelves at the back of the room moved apart, revealing a small, dark box. An elevator? “Holy shit,” he whispered, a little surprised. He took a few steps into the room to get a better look... “So you’ve found it, huh?” And then promptly froze as he heard a sickening familiar voice from the door behind him. “I was so hoping you would. Just the right amount of cleverness I need.” Mike started to turn around. “The exact specimen this project needs.” His eyes widened as he saw her face, and made to yell, but before he could get anything out a syringe was lodged in his neck and the world was getting dark and so very far away. One last thought swirled once through his mind before he lost consciousness entirely. The Director. She couldn’t be. But it was true. For the face that Mike saw, his own terrified features reflected in the lenses of her glasses... ...Was none other than Abigail Hodge.
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