The Woman Absinthe

“They’re not in restraints?”

“They’ll never be in restraints. Not these three.”

“They’re not escorted?”

“And they’ll never be patted down, either. You’ll just have to take their word that they won’t cause any trouble.”

“Don’t you know who that is? That’s…”

“Shut the fuck up. Right now. They don’t know who they are. That’s part of the sentence. To them, they are just three friends on a crazy adventure. Unless you want half the prison to disappear, us along with it, you’ll not speak their names. Do not remind them who they are. The only thing binding them is a Gentleman’s Agreement. Don’t break that agreement. Don’t remind them who they are.”

“So what do we call them?”

“Anything except their names. Hey! Playboy! Come get your clothes!”

The guy I was leaning against had his arm around me. He had tried to rest his hand on my breast, but after losing a finger, he decided leaving his hand on my shoulder was best for now. In appreciation of his change of heart I gave him the removed finger. To both our amazement, he placed the finger on his hand and the wound healed itself at once. He nudged me gently. “Hey. Absinthe. I think he’s calling me. You gotta let me up.”

The guy calling me Absinthe did so because he said I was beautiful and tempting like the drink. And vicious and destructive like the drink. I protested that I wasn’t wearing anything green, nor did I have green skin. “Not all drinks are served in clear glasses. And there are always fools that sip first, and identify in their suffering.” I think that was a compliment. I dunno. I tried to remember my name, but I couldn’t. So, I allowed him to call me Absinthe, but we couldn’t come up with a name for him.

“Mmkay… You’re comfortable to sleep on, you know.” I sat up, stretched, and considered snuggling against the third of our number. But he looked on us with great disdain and discomfort. I decided to sit straight up as “Playboy” got up and went to the guard. Playboy returned with a set of prison issue clothing. White and faded black vertical stripes for the shirt. Horizontal stripes for the pants. Shapeless.

“You! Woman!”

Playboy was suddenly angered. “Call her ‘Absinthe’! You don’t just call out a person’s gender! What the hell! She’s a person!” To my surprise, the guard blanched in sudden fear.

He swallowed hard, then with a shaky voice, called out to me. “Absinthe. Your turn. Come get your clothes.” I wasn’t offended by the guard, but Playboy had taken it quite personally. He was almost shaking in rage. I put a hand on his shoulder to calm him and he started to snarl at me for touching him. I dug my fingernails into the skin behind his ear.

“You can continue the alpha display, and lose an ear. Or you can calm the fuck down and let me fight my own battles.” I have no idea where that came from. A completely instinctive action. But it caught Playboy by surprise, and he nodded and calmed down, forcing himself to breathe deeply. I released his ear and gave him a peck on the cheek. He grinned like a schoolboy until he looked over at the unnamed third of our number.

While I went to get my clothes from the guard, I heard Playboy say, “You’re sneaky. That’s your name. You are Sneaky.”

“Who the fuck gave you leave to name me? Just because I don’t remember who I am!” Sneaky had a good question. Who was I? Why was I with these two? I have nothing on me to tell me who I am or my relation with these two guys, but everyone else is behaving as if we’re a match set.

I noted quickly our temperament was suited to each other. Playboy wanted to run the show, but I refuse to let him run over me. I wanted to dissect the situation, but Sneaky’s silence keeps distracting me into paranoia. Sneaky wants to run off into the shadows, but Playboy keeps attracting lights so Sneaky has to behave.

I take my clothes and walk over to Sneaky. Kicking his feet, I tersely tell him, “Get your gear. Cause no trouble and no trouble will be shoved up your ass.”. Sneaky scrambles to his feet and circles me to get his clothes.

Playboy purrs in respect. “My my my, Absinthe. I think I misnamed you. I did not expect to see a bitchy aspect to you.”

“What do you call removing your finger when you groped me?” “Protecting the goods.” I rolled my eyes as he laughed heartedly.

The three of us now having our gear, a guard led us into the prison to show us our cell. We would be here for a short time, and the terms of our sentence was that we three had to be bunked in the same cell. The guard made a comment about me not getting any rest. I didn’t catch the undertone to it, but Playboy did.

Next I know, the guard is embedded an inch into the cinder block wall with crushed ribs and Playboy is cocking back for the fatal blow. I grab Playboy’s hand and wrench it behind his back. The guard falls as Playboy lets go, and now it’s Playboy’s turn to eat cinder.

“I do believe I told you to drop the alpha display and allow me to pick my own battles, yes?” Playboy struggled against me, but I wrenched his arm higher, making his shoulder pop. “ARGH! Yes! Yes!”

I leaned close and whispered, “The three of us have to look out for each other, and sometimes that means letting the prey think they have the advantage. Understand?” Playboy’s eyes widened as he caught my meaning.

Without letting Playboy go, I yell at Sneaky to get medical attention for the guard. Sneaky said he would rather finish breaking the guard’s ribs. “Sneaky. If I have to let Playboy go to kick your ass, there won’t be anything left for medical to take. Understand?” Sneaky tried to laugh me off until he looked up and took in the visual. He quickly ran off to get help for the stricken guard.

I held Playboy against the cinder block wall until the wounded guard had been taken away and another, quivering, guard had taken his place. Who were we, that we were feared so?

Finally, our cell. Minimum security. No locks on the doors. Was more like a hotel than a prison. Our cell had four bunks, and one was already claimed. Our roommate was absent however. We was told we would meet him tonight. I claimed the bunk above the already taken one. Sneaky claimed the other bottom bunk, but Playboy took Sneaky’s gear and tossed it on the top. When Sneaky tried to talk shit to Playboy, Playboy merely said, “If you want the bottom that badly, you’ll have to show me.” Sneaky stopped talking at once and scrambled on top of the top bunk and glared at us both.

“Hey! Guard!” The pale man appeared at the door after Playboy shouted. “What’s for fun around here?”

“Fun?”

“Yea, I know we’re supposed to be here for thirty days, but there has got to be something to do!”

“This is prison… ” The guard starts to speak a name, then catches himself. “Playboy. You sit and watch the walls erode.”

“That is unacceptable. Neither I, nor my companions, will tolerate these kind of conditions. We’re going out!”

“We are?” Sneaky and I said in unison.

“Yes, we are, and the prison is going to pay our tab because they can’t expect us to just sit here like caged animals.” I started to laugh because of the vicious aggression Playboy and I have already displayed. I don’t know why I’m in prison, but after seeing what I’m capable of, I’m not surprised anymore.

“Very well, Playboy. I’ll call the car to the side and see what the budget is.” We all stopped laughing.

“Wait. This… You’re saying we can leave the prison at will? And the prison is going to pay for whatever bills we incur?” I’m quite surprised by this.

“Yes… Absinthe. As long as you three are back in the cell in time for bunk check.”

Well. FUCK.

Still in our street clothes, we are quick to take advantage of this strange term to our sentence. Turns out, for the next thirty days, we are free during the day, and only have to report to the prison at night. The prison pays for all our purchases and any damages we may incur. Our only restrictions, are to try to keep each other out of trouble, and no one is to tell us who we are.

We enjoy the day, and I actually got to see Sneaky smile and laugh a few times. That we didn’t know who we were didn’t matter, as outside of the prison, no one else knew who we were either. No one was afraid to be around us. No one was concerned about us. We were three friends from out of state, hamming it up and being all touristy. It was a nice feeling to not have a reputation over our heads.

It was a nice feeling to not have a private reputation to live up to.

But the day came to a close. Our plain clothes escort told us it was time for us to return “back to the hotel”. Laughing and cutting up, we were driven back to the prison. But we did not enter via the front entrance. We were brought in through the back entrance. The guards would not answer us why, but I surmised our sentence was not politically advantageous to someone. We could have our minimum security, but it was not to be flaunted publicly with our coming and going.

All outside items we brought with us are respectfully requested by the guards. It was clear to us three, that we didn’t have to go along with anything we didn’t want to. But if it was because of the terms of our sentencing, or the fact that two of us have already demonstrated we were hazardous to their physical structure, I’m not sure. But in good faith, we all handed over the tchotckes we collected during the day. Much to the guards’ relief.

Sitting inside our shared cell is the fourth cell mate. He is staring at us as we enter with childlike awe. “I get to have cellmates! Wow! I’ll be real good so you guys will stay!” Body of a forty year old man. Half bald from male pattern baldness. Facial expressions of a happy seven-year-old, and body actions to match.

“Great. A retard.” I slapped Sneaky towards Playboy. Playboy slapped Sneaky back towards me. Sneaky started to say something else, but my glare brought him to a halt.

“You have boobs.” The voice had the timbre of an adult male, and the inflection of the onset of puberty. Oh, it’s going to be a long night. I can tell. I look down to see him sitting on the edge of his bunk, staring fiercely at my breasts. He is absolutely fascinated by them. “Are you a woman?”

Sneaky retreated to the top bunk above Playboy’s, giggling like mad. Playboy started to get upset, then realized I wasn’t perturbed by the question.

“Yes, I am. Am I the first woman you’ve seen in person before?” He nods, still staring at my breasts. “When is the last time you were outside the prison?” He slowly blinks and looks up to see my face for the first time.

“Out… side? There is no more outside. That’s what the Warden says. Outside is dangerous and scary. It’s better to stay in here, where the guards will watch over you and keep you safe.” He laughs, again like a child. “If you’re nice, they play games with you!”

“What’s your name?”

“Donald. Donald Donaldson. Inmate number not on record.” He rattles the information from well honed memory.

“Donald… how old are you?”

Donald furrows his brow and starts counting on his fingers. He gets to seven and loses his count. “I don’t know. I know the last birthday party I had was when I was seven years old! And then I had to come inside the prison.”

“You’ve been here since you were seven years old?” Playboy sits on the bunk next to him. “And you’ve never been outside, since?” Donald shakes his head.

“The Warden said everything outside is gone. All gone.” Donald nods and bounces himself back and forth in self-consolation.

“Well that’s a bucket of dicks to eat.” Sneaky sees my and Playboy’s glares and retreats out of sight, backing away from the edge of the bunk.

“Speaking of eating…” Playboy stands up and looks at the trays of food… stuff… being slid into our cell. “I ain’t eating that. That’s for damn sure. Guard! How much time left for bunk check?”

“You have an hour left, Playboy. So if you’re going to get anything, it better be local!”

“What’s local and fast?”

“Pizza and chinese takeout. That’s it.”

Sneaky pokes his head over the top bunk again. “If you’re thinking about the man-boy here, pizza is the better bet. Everyone loves pizza.”

“Aww, Sneaky. I didn’t know you cared.” It was clear I was mocking him.

Sneaky retreated out of sight again. “I don’t. But I ain’t eating that shit either. And pizza is safer.” I have to give him that.

Playboy tells the guard to order pizzas for us four and for all the guards that want any as well. “Absinthe! By the time your driver gets you to the pizzeria, they should be ready.”

Wait. No. This is not the agreement. “Uh, Playboy. We’re supposed to move as a group, here. We’re not supposed to split up.” I was anxious to the point of itching about the idea of us splitting up. What ever binding was used on us to keep our identities from ourselves, it was now working on me to keep me from leaving Playboy and Sneaky.

Playboy looks up and sees I’m in the beginning stages of an anxiety attack. “Oh, you haven’t broken that part yet, I see.”

“What p-p-p-part?”

“The part that forces us three to remain in close proximity. Hold still, Absinthe. You have to trust me.” Playboy grabs me and pushes me against the cinder block wall. It was not an aggressive move, merely a constraining move. “Remember how you bit my finger off and I healed it back on?” I nodded. “I figured it out then. The binding makes you consider me and Sneaky part of your body. You have to allow me to remove a piece of your physical body and you’ll figure out the rest.” He leans in close. “Finger? Ear? Lip? Labia?”

A glimpse of insight. He is intentionally trying to trigger an anger response to distract me from the binding fueled anxiety. But I also note he is enjoying watching me in distress. I jab a pinky finger into his leering mouth.

With more delight than I was comfortable with, he bites down and rips it off my hand. I keep from screaming, knowing the guards would misinterpret the scene. Or worse, guess correctly. Indeed, as Playboy pulled away with his prize, I could feel the binding on me stretch and give way.

The anxiety stopped at once.

I hold out my whole hand and he reluctantly spits out the severed finger into my palm. As I watch my body reattach the finger, he moves away from me giving me room. He mumbled under his breath, “You taste good when willing. I wonder how much better when forced?”. He thought I didn’t hear him so when he turned around to face me, he was surprised to see me glaring at him fiercely.

“Don’t forget, Playboy. I’m in this for a reason as well. I may not remember it, but I can dish it out just as much as you.” He gulps and looks away. Sneaky giggles from the top bunk. Donald looks at us in confusion.

“Is that sex? Did you two just have sex?” Donald was eager in his questioning. “I read a lot about sex!” Sneaky lost it in the top bunk, screaming his laughter to the ceiling. Even the guards poked their heads in the cell door to see what the mirth was about. Playboy and I just stared at Donald, wondering just how sheltered was he kept.

“No. Donald. That was not sex. But it was consensual. This time.” I all but hissed the last two words at Playboy. “Guard! I need a driver. I need some fresh air, and some pizza.”

As my driver pulled away from the prison, I noted I did not have any anxiety about leaving Playboy or Sneaky behind. I also noted my head was much clearer without them next to me. This gave me time to think, and plot.

Who was I? What was I sentenced for? The sentence was supposed to be severe but is effectively a slap on the wrist. Perhaps the sentence is not to punish the three of us, perhaps it is a means of keeping the three of us out of the way. But out of what’s way, and why? The guards knew who we were, but the town’s populace didn’t.

So many questions. And this is just the first night of our sentence.

The pizza parlor is one of the first buildings encountered right outside of the prison property. The guards say they order from here all the time. I think the guards are full of shit.

The pizza parlor certainly is.

Built into a previous business that had been illegally divided, the waiting area of the “restaurant” had a row of working toilets that still remained from the building’s former use. You could see in the floor where the stall dividers were originally mounted. Kids were playing on and around the toilets, flushing them constantly. A few were taking advantage of the few that worked and were relieving themselves in full view of the waiting folks and the employees.

The employees gave no fucks about it. Looking defeated and worn down, they shoveled mass produced pizza towards the waiting customers as fast as they could produce it. We could see our order waiting on a table behind the counter.

The plain clothes guard and I looked at each other with a shared disgust. There was no way either one of us was going to eat anything from this place.

“Maybe we could say they didn’t get the order.” “The oven broke.” “They ran out of dough.” “We’ll miss bunk call.”

“Yea, I like that one, Absinthe. Let’s go.” The guard’s cell phone rings. He answers and his face falls. He hangs up and stands back in line. “They’re skipping bunk call tonight to give us time to get the pizzas. The store already called them letting them know it’s ready.”

“Well. Fuck. Okay. But I’m not eating any of that.” The guard nods in agreement and stays in line with me.

There are a lot of orders tonight, and the employees have their hands full. The Pick Up Line is almost to the door. The waiting area/restroom is packed and the toilet are being flushed constantly. If only people would use the working ones instead of the broken ones.

I hear the sound of screeching tires outside and that distinctive pattern of blue and red lights flash outside the window. A police officer rushes to the manager and asks some questions. The manager checks the orders still to be picked up. “No, Ma’am. The prison order is still here. No one has picked it up yet.” My plain-clothes guard and I look at each other in surprise. Were they that hungry?

The police officer scans the crowd and fails to identify me or my personal guard. “Citizens, please leave the immediate area. A dangerous murderer is on the loose.”

“Bitch! I want my pizza!” The reply from one of the not-so-patient customers surprises her. No one leaves the waiting area. They want their pizza or die trying.

Lucidity rushes me, filling my lungs with fresh air. I know who I am. What I don’t know is why I’m in this scenario. But the aftertaste it is leaving in my mouth is familiar. This smacks of the Orphanage (The King of Thieves).

“Absinthe? You okay?” The guard has noted the sudden change in my mannerisms.

I look at him and smile. “Yea. The smell of all this shit… it’s getting to me. Trust me?”

He looks at me warily. “What are you planning?”

“I just need to step outside into clear… well… clearer air for a minute. I’ll be back into help you with the pizzas. Honest. I can’t run.” I was lying about being unable to run. I’m lucid now. I can do whatever I want to do.

He sizes me up then reluctantly agrees. “You have three minutes. Otherwise…”

“Not a problem.” I kiss him on the cheek, slowing time down. I leave him in line and step outside. Changing my appearance to that of a teenage male, I step past the waiting police and duck into the nearby alley.

Leaning back against the brick wall, I feel where I am at. I’m not in the downtown area of the City, but I am on City grounds. And where there’s the City, there’s the Envoy. I call out to him, identifying myself as Weaver Trouble Finder. He steps out of the shadows beside me.

“My dear. You did not have to add an epitaph to your name. You are quite distinctive in voice. That you are calling for me, is worth my attention merely for that alone.” He takes my hand and kisses it in formal greeting despite my appearance as a male.

“I’ve slowed down time inside the pizzeria, but if I’m going to follow this plot I’ll need to be brief so I can jump back inside.” I inform him of the dream’s events thus far, and end it with, “and this smacks of the same kind of bullshit that was at the Orphanage. There’s something about Donald that doesn’t seem right. And one of us three ‘prisoners’… isn’t.”

After I finish, the Envoy stands stiffly. “I agree. There is something greatly amiss here. Will you keep your lucidity if you return to the prison?” I said I was sure I would. “Then follow the ‘plot’ as you call it. Take it as far as you can. If you can unravel this from within, then do so please. But if conditions become untenable, call me the same as you called me here.”

He bows. “I apologize that you must suffer this indignity, again.”

“Sometimes things have to get worse before they can get better. I’ll see you again soon, Envoy.” I nod my head in return and quickly sneak back into the pizzeria, taking on my normal female form once more and releasing time, just in time.

“There you are. I was about to call. Thank you for coming back. Sure did feel like it dragged. Glad you’re with me instead of one of the other two.” The look of relief on his face melted my heart.

“Why me?”

“Well… uh… I can’t say. I’m not supposed to say anything that would remind you of who you are.”

I nod solemnly and slowly in agreement. I was hoping he’d say why I had been roped into this “sentencing” arrangement. His phone rings again. He listens, then says we’re leaving now.

“Something happened at the prison. They said to forget the pizzas, you have to get back now before people notice you’re gone.” I was secretly thrilled. The less food stuffs I handle from this open toilet area, the better, dream or not.

The drive back to the prison was quiet and solitary. The guard escorted me all the way to my cell. I noted the lights were on, but it was an hour past bunk call. As I turned into the cell, I saw Donald laying quietly on his bunk, but no sight of Playboy or Sneaky.

“Hey guys, the place was packed so…”

“UP AGAINST THE WALL! DO NOT RESIST!” A riot control unit suddenly came around the corner and slammed into me. I was not surprised at this and allowed them to manhandle me as they saw fit. Instead, I focused on the thin connection I felt to the City, and called the Envoy.

The unit was expecting some sort of fight from me and was confused when I was completely compliant. “WHERE IS THE WEAPON?”

“What weapon? Frisk me. You have me shoved off the floor. I can’t go anywhere!” Hands felt over my clothes. One hand started to reach under my shirt.

“Disrespect her, and you will be applying for permanent disability. Stand down. Release her.” At the sound of the Envoy’s voice, everyone turned to look. Behind him were the City’s Elite Forces. I had to wonder if they were here to help me, or help restrain me.

The Captain of the Guard was with the Envoy. “Do as he says. He outranks the Warden.” Grudgingly, the riot control unit backs away from me, allowing me to slide down to the floor. I turned to ask Donald if he was okay, but I noted he had not moved despite all the madness of the previous minutes. A cold chill ran through me.

The Captain ordered his men to leave the cell. I went to Donald’s bunk. He was laying on his side, facing the wall. I could feel the cold seeping into his body. A small darkening dot was on the side of his head. From underneath his pillow, a crimson red was spreading. Donald was dead.

“Madame.” It was the Envoy’s voice, but I noted he did not call me by my name. “You said there were two others.”

“Yes… I don’t know their names, only their appellations for the length of the sentence. ‘Playboy’ and ‘Sneaky’. Who they are, completely escapes me.” I start to reach for Donald’s shoulder, as if I could wake him up, but I feel a certain pull within him. He’s gone.

I know I’m dreaming. But I’m still saddened to tears. Donald had a certain presence to him. He wasn’t a one-night dream of some wistful person.

The Envoy gently moves me to one side and checks Donald for any sign of presence. As he pats the body, almost in consolation, I knew Donald was gone from this dream.

But… I’ve died many times before. “He’ll come back, again. Right? Look at all the times I’ve died and was ejected from the dream. He’ll be back again tonight, right?”

The Envoy looked up at me as if I was a child. “No. Madame. Donald Donaldson is dead. The person that dreamed him, will dream someone, or something, new when next the dreams begin. But this person… is dead. The question now is, which one of the two killed him, and how did they manage to sneak in here to do it. That you became caught up in this is surprising, I’m sure, knowing your nature. The killer probably felt having you as the scapegoat was an added pleasure. As you know, there are many that view you in adoration, and many that view you with derision. Destroying your reputation would have been a boon to the killer.”

“Out of my way! Get the fuck out of my way! Who are these men? This is my prison, get out of my way!” The Warden pushes his way through the Envoy’s forces. As he enters the cell, I sit down on the bunk across from Donald. Looking up, I am surprised to find the Warden looking like an older version of Donald.

“Warden… Donaldson?” The Warden looks at the cold body. His face goes through a wide range of emotions, of which the only one I believed was angst. He quickly looks past the Envoy, allowing his gaze to rest on me.

“YOU! You killed my son! I want her destroyed! I gave you a chance and you killed my son!”

“Envoy. Two separate dreamers?” The Envoy nodded. “He was able to keep Donald confined in here?” The Envoy nodded. “Like me and the Orphanage.” The Envoy grit his teeth and stood up. He looked at me and nodded grimly.

“Are you going to just let that bitch sit there and gloat over her kill?” Warden Donaldson became more animated with each outburst. The Envoy bowed stiffly and formally towards me.

“Weaver.” This was the first time he spoke my name in this dream. “I must ask that you completely cut away the dreamer from the deceased.” The way the Envoy was asking chilled me to my bones.

“No! I don’t want that fucking bitch anywhere near the body of my son!” Warden Donaldson tried to charge at me, but the Envoy’s forces grabbed him and pulled him out of the cell.

“Are you asking me to perform death rites?” I’m struggling to understand the Envoy’s request.

“I’m asking Weaver to be Weaver Raven-Daughter.” My mouth turned to cotton. As I stood, the last of the dream’s bindings was cast off. My raven feather cloak fell about me, and I felt my short afro turn into a covering of feathers. The Envoy bowed respectfully and backed away from the body. The Warden’s outbursts ceased at once as he saw who I truly was.

I called the Purging Fire to my marked hand and poured it over Donald’s body. I saw the thin thread that connected him to the dreamer that still gripped his existence. Saying nothing, I reached between dream and dreamer, and with the Devouring Fire, destroyed that connection. Donald’s body dissipated at once.

While I was doing so, the Envoy turned to speak with the Warden. “I know her. And I know what she has done here. And I know what she has not done here. She did not kill your son. She was the last chance your son had for continuing. You know who she is. You know her reputation. And you sent her away.”

As the Envoy finished speaking, the last bits of Donald Donaldson had sublimated. Out of respect, I clasped my hands and bowed at the passing. The Envoy interpreted this correctly, turned, and repeated the gesture.

“Weaver Raven-Daughter. You have been abused. Again. For this I am greatly displeased. I do wish you would consider embracing the City, but with these events happening to you, I understand if you refrain. I do thank you for easing the dreamer of the deceased into a new dream. You are coming into your own.” He bows a stiff formal gesture. “I must be rude, now. Do forgive me. The Warden and I need to discuss the matters that occurred here. Shall I send an escort with you for your departure?”

Internally, the adolescent portion of my mind was in singsong. Someone’s gonna get it. However, I just smiled and nodded, myself. “No, Envoy. I’m fully myself now. I’ll be able to leave. But, um, if anyone offers you pizza…”

He laughs. “I will take that warning to heart. Good night, Weaver Raven-Daughter.”

“Good night, Envoy.” I dismissed myself from the dreaming and woke up at once. As I was writing down my notes, it suddenly dawned on me that he had called me “Weaver Raven-Daughter” three times. Chalking up my concern to mere superstition, I laid back down and fell into deep, dreamless sleep.

Make of that, what you may.