Typhoid Ace

[Bray]

Baptist Memorial Hospital comes into view, its rugged exterior hinting at its rising age over the age. Out the corner of the camera’s eye, a black truck pulls into the parking lot, parking albeit sloppily in a place near the entrance. Out steps Bray, unusually dressed in a suit and tie this time around. He enters the building and makes his way to a room on the second floor where, upon entry, he sees a doctor standing over his sister, who hasn’t noticed him come in, instead focusing her attention on, of all things, an episode of The Wiggles television show.

Bray: … The Wiggles?

 

Doctor: It’s the only thing she’s watched since she’s been here.

 

Bray: I see…

 

Doctor: You must be Braylin. Braylin Horton am I correct?

 

Bray (grits his teeth): Fair enough…

 

Doctor: Great! Well…

 

He walks over to a dresser and retrieves a file. He flashes it at Bray, who just looks at the cover out of curiosity.

 

Doctor: I have the prognosis right here and… it’s just as we feared.

 

Bray: What’s wrong?

 

Doctor: She’s developing, well, dissociative identity disorder.

 

Bray: Sounds familiar…

 

Doctor: Well, it’s a rare disorder. Not very common but, unfortunately, Kelsie has all the symptoms for it.

 

Bray: I see…

 

Doctor: It’s a good thing you came to us when you did. It’s unwise to let symptoms like the ones you described go on unchecked.

 

He turns his attention to the files, flipping through the pages before stopping on one, confused.

 

Doctor: And you said she… was dropped on her head onto a table, left to rot, and not one single soul besides you cared for her?

 

Bray: That’s correct...

 

Doctor: … So physical and psychological trauma, then?

 

Bray: Pretty much…

 

Doctor: Ah, that’s unfortunately common in causes for the disorder, especially in cases like this. I guess it makes sense for the corrupted iris as well.

 

Bray: I gathered…

 

Doctor: Well, I have to go turn this into the higher ups and we’ll work on getting her the proper treatment she needs?

 

Bray: Proper… treatment?

 

Doctor: You know, things like medication aren’t going to take these things away. What she needs is a proper seating, a proper guide in order to learn to control her state as opposed to running from it. Things like therapy are recommended for this. She'll probably need to say away from anything strenuous, say… wrestling.

 

The doctor exits the room upon saying this, leaving Ace in Bray’s care. He looks around her room and grows cold: not a single get-well message or any gifts or goodies for her to have.

 

Bray (whispers): Hypocrites…

 

He goes over to her and nudges her shoulder, hoping to attract her attention.

 

Bray: It’s me.

 

She doesn’t respond. She stares blankly into the television, almost as though she’s hypnotized by the wonderful Wiggles. Bray sits at her bedside, twirling her hair in his hands.

 

Bray: Kelsie…

 

Suddenly, she snaps into motion, immediately staring at Bray. Almost immediately, one feature about her stands out: the entirety of the right side of her face is painted white, albeit sloppily but white nonetheless. Her right eye also catches his attention. As opposed to her usual dark brown, instead it is all white, with hints of brown faded on the outside.

 

Bray: … Nice paint.

 

She looks around the room for a second, confused.

 

Ace: Are you talking to me?

 

Bray: Who else?

 

Ace: You called me “Kelsie”.

 

Bray: Your name.

 

Ace: THAT’S her real name? Kinda shitty...

 

Bray: … You okay?

 

She hops out of bed and stretches.

 

Ace: Never better, fuckwit, now let me think.

 

Her name, her absent-mindedness of the paint, even her lingo. It’s painfully obvious.

 

Bray (takes a deep breath): Okay... and you are?

 

???: You still talkin to me? Well… to be fair that’s where I’m at a bit of a disadvantage.

 

Bray: Get Kelsie...

 

???: Kelsie? Oh right, the side piece. I’m afraid it’s not that eas-

 

Almost as soon as she says it, she stops her sentence, takes a second to look around, then sits back down on the bed. After a tense moment, Bray notices that she’s begun to tear up.

 

???: Ali…

 

Bray: You’re back…

 

Ace (still sobbing): God dammit…

 

Bray: Calm down...

 

He sits down next to her.

 

Ace: Why… why did no one come see me?

 

Bray doesn’t immediately answer, because he knows she knows the answer:

 

Bray: Not liked...

 

Shockingly, this doesn’t make Ace feel any better. She begins to bawl at an unnecessary volume.

 

Ace: Dammit dammit DAMMIT!

 

Bray grabs a tissue and pats her cheeks down, finishing off with a pat on her head.

 

Ace: All I… wanted... to do… was to have fun… and wrestle. ...What did I do to make everyone hate me?

 

Bray (takes a deep breath): Being my sister doesn’t earn you brownie points, unfortunately. Everyone hates me so-

 

Ace: But you MADE them hate you. I never did anything.

 

Bray (whispers): Not entirely...

Ace: What was that, you pillock!?

 

She’s angry all of a sudden. Ace is gone again.

 

Bray: Forget it...

 

???: Whadyousayyyyy? There’s no reason to keep secrets! You ARE my brother after all.

 

Bray: I guess…

 

She whacks him in the arm.

 

???: Seriously, I don’t know WHAT is with that girl. She doesn’t need those fuckwits!

 

Bray: Not untrue...

 

Ace goes to the bathroom, observing herself in the mirror. She touches the paint on her face and grins, almost sadistically.

 

???: Damn I’m good. I’d make a fuckin good paint artist, amirite?

 

Bray (takes another deep breath): Okay. I’ve seen Split. I know how this goes.

 

???: What, are you gonna name me now?

 

Bray: Have to.

 

???: Nah, fuck that noise. I’ll do it myself.

 

She takes a moment to continue her self-observation, paying significant attention to her breasts.

 

???: Has she grown!?

 

Bray: Wouldn’t know.

 

???: Good little girl!

 

She exits the bathroom and plays with her hair a bit.

 

???: Hm... big breasts, medium hair,...

 

She then begins to inspect… “other” areas.

 

???: Lil bit of ass… I got it!

 

She turns to Bray, eyes bright as ever, and smiles.

 

???: … Mori!

 

Bray: … Huh?

 

Mori: It’s derived from the Latin theory, meaning “DEATH”.

 

Bray : … What the fuck does that have to do with anything?

 

Ace (sighs): That’s the best she came up with?

 

Bray: Other ideas?

 

Ace: ….. No?

 

Bray: Exactly.

 

He gets up to his feet just as the doctor returns.

 

Doctor: Alright Ms. Wilson, I know this is a difficult time for you but if you and your brother and willing to cooperate we’ll-

 

Before he can continue, Bray rests a hand on his shoulder and gets unusually close to him, looking calmly, yet menacingly at the man.

 

Bray: Are you telling me that you’re recommending she stop wrestling?

 

Doctor: Well, u-uh, yes in order to-

 

Bray: She is perfectly fine the way she is. She doesn’t need treatment… right Kelsie?

 

Ace: Ali, I really… don’t know if that’s a good ide-

 

Mori: Damn right I don’t need treatment! Get me outta here, doc. I’m healthy!

 

The good doctor begins to sweat buckets.

 

Doctor: But- b-b-b-b-but-

 

Bray (closes in): She doesn’t need anyone but me. Am I clear?...

 

He releases the doctor’s shoulder and shoves him out of the room.

 

Bray: Now get her papers so she can leave… NOW.

 

He slams the door in his face.

 

Mori: She ain’t gon be happy bout this.

 

Bray: Too bad.

 

She walks up to him smiling and slaps him on the chest.

 

Ace (shivers): … What did she just do?

 

Bray: Nothing important.

 

He throws her some clothes as they await the doctor’s return.