In Silence She Screams (Midnight Mayhem 3)

“Lilith!” a high-pitched voice interrupts my coiled thoughts of distaste toward the monstrous choice of clothing. Maybe I can just go naked. “Oh God, please tell me you’re Lil—”

I slowly turn to face the intruder and she stops halfway through her chatter. “Wow. Yup. Definitely Lilith.”

She’s cute, maybe early teens. She wears a short brown bob, has round brown eyes, and a scattering of freckles that spray over her adolescent cheeks. She already has the basics of what I’m guessing is going to be a very attractive young woman. I’m Patience. I’m wired to see the beauty in everything, except where beauty needs to be. Never thought much about that until now.

“You need me?” I say with friendly amusement.

Her mouth stretches wide as she pulls something from behind the curtain. She’s clutching a long suede jacket with lilac trimming and a collar that curves up the neck like two horns. It is very Maleficent. “You don’t have to wear it, it’s just… When I saw you the other day and found out that you were going to be our new ringmistress, well, I knew Delila’s coat wouldn’t be your style. You’re young, but you have an edge about your beauty that is seriously, like never seen.” She continues to gape at me, but I reach forward and take the coat from her, running the palms of my hands over the soft suede.

“This is very, very stunning—” I peek at her from behind my lashes. “Sorry, what’s your name?”

“Ariana.” Her eyes widen brightly as her cheeks flush. “Thank you. I haven’t had much sleep since starting, and I mean, I’m on this new medication where my dad tells me it needs to be taken to help me sleep, but I needed this done, you know?” Watching her ramble is fascinating, and I could listen to her talk a lot.

I think I like her. She would be the first person I’ve come to like since being here, Saskia not included.

“It is perfect, Ariana. Are you also the makeup artist?”

Her razor-sharp hair bounces off her shoulders when she nods her head enthusiastically. “Sure am! I’m ready to do your face.”

I turn back around to hang the coat behind the name that is tagged on my portable hangers. I pause, bunch the rest of the clothes that are hanging on it, and toss them to the other side of the room.

“I do your makeup in here, since it’s your cubicle.”

“Everyone has a cubicle?” I ask, tying my silk robe tighter around my waist while moving the coffin out of the way.

“No.” Ariana distracts herself by pulling through her makeup trolley and setting everything up on my vanity. Light bulbs line a large round mirror, with perfumes, hand sanitizer, and soaps lying delicately at the face of it.

Nothing like Patience.

Alan Flinder.

Sixty-three years old.

Priority: Red

PS make it hurt. Mwah.

Ariana is still chatting away as I pull myself back to the present. I get the feeling if I want to know anything, she’s the person to ask. “…so basically, just The Brothers and, you know, the important people who need them because they do more than one set. You, obviously included.” She begins painting my face in white, before dipping lilacs, grays, blacks, and reds. “So, the place you were before here?” she asks casually, and I breathe through the strokes she’s brushing on my cheek. “I heard it’s like, our nemesis.”

“Sort of. I mean, not really. That had more to do with our leader, who also happened to be my father.”

She doesn’t stop her strokes or her questions. “Are you sad that we killed them—I mean him?”

“No.” The answer is honest, but probably a little too forward for someone of her age to understand how someone can be so cold about their own father’s death.

“Well, that’s cool. Hey, so did you ever go to school or anything? I mean, we’re always on the road so I don’t get much of a life outside Mayhem.”

“Nope,” I answer, peeling open one eye. “I was much like you in that aspect. No schools.”

“It is so boring.” …and that’s where our similarities end. “I mean, I can’t even have a boyfriend because all of the boys here are like, gross.”

“Um, I don’t think I’ve seen one unattractive person here.”

“I mean, I grew up with them!” She giggles, dipping the bristles into a glass of water.

“Ahh, I see. I thought you were talking about appearance.”

“I don’t find many people attractive.” She sighs sadly. “I think I’m broken.”

“Attractive? Sure you can. You can point to any person and I’ll give you one thing that makes them attractive. You’ve just got to look beyond appearance.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re like, the prettiest girl here. I think you’re even prettier than Saskia, but don’t tell her that because Sass can be a bit of a bitch.”