| Psychosis, Pt. 1 |

A thick, coarse rope bound Arufa’s wrists behind her back. She felt the cold, slimy drip of rainwater down her back—evidence of the meandering cracks across the stone ceiling. The iron bars before her far out of reach, she laid upon the ground and gave up on her freedom.

BANG! BANG BANG!

Her groggy eyes slid open, face pressed to the dusty floor. She coughed; it echoed from wall to wall for what felt like hours. Her shackles weighed heavy on her ankles, constricting her slowly. It’s not fair. It’s not my fault.

BANG BANG BANG! “We know you’re in there! Open up!”

Arufa shot awake, her bedding messy and damp with sweat. Her eyes darted around, assessing her location—the warehouse. Skyler had just begun to stir, too. She breathed a sigh of relief before pulling off her sheets and standing up.

Ugh. That was some funky nightmare, huh? she thought. Running her fingers through her hair, she approached the doors and brought down the beam holding them shut.

She pulled open one door and looked outside, rubbing her eyes. “Morning, officer.”

A man covered in a dark blue bulletproof vest stood before her. His spectacled cyan eyes darted every which way, taking everything in. Blonde hair poked out from underneath his cap, adorned with a silver badge reading ‘U.P.D.’—Underside Police Department, Arufa assumed it meant.

“Are you Miss Arufa…?” he trailed off. He seemed distracted.

“No last name? Yeah, that’s me.”

“We have reason to believe you committed a burglary.”

“Really? What are the details?”

He took a moment to recall it. “Twenty o’clock-ish yesterday. A man came to an office in Overside, complaining that someone had stolen his wallet. Security footage in the sector he identified led us to you.”

Arufa shrugged. “I wasn’t up there. Overside isn’t friendly to us down here, you know that.”

“Of course. I was hoping to come here and identify it wasn’t you. Except, unfortunately, you match the figure in the recording.” He reached down and pulled out his phone, scrolled for a moment, and flipped it around to show Arufa.

It was low-quality footage, and from what she could see it never even caught her face. The only distinct feature was the purple tattoo over her sternum. Wait… what tattoo? I don’t have a tattoo on my chest. Can’t afford one, anyways.

“That’s not me.”

“We can clear that up at the office, if you’ll just–”

“Sir, that’s not me. I don’t have that tattoo.”

Arufa heard Skyler yawn behind her, their feet hitting the floor. They waddled up to the door and peeked over her shoulder. “What’s going on?” they asked.

“You,” the policeman said, turning his attention to Skyler. “Hate to bother you, really. Does your friend here have a tattoo over her chest?”

Arufa, for a moment, was thankful for Skyler’s support. They could back her up without her having to take off her overshirt—which, in front of a policeman, she thought would be indecent.

And then they spoke. “Yeah, she does. Why?”

What? Arufa blinked and shook her head. This kid, I swear.

“Skyler, dude, this is serious. Don’t lie to an officer.”

“Wha– I’m not lying. You’ve had it since we met.”

Arufa’s breathing quickened. That’s not true. I’ve never gotten tattooed. I saw myself in the mirror last night before I went to sleep. I’m not even old enough to get one.

The officer, confused at her reaction, turned around. “Ahem. You may go inside and check, I suppose. But the hair and skin tone match, at least.”

“Thanks, sir,” Arufa said quickly, shutting the door and running to her bedside. Next to her mattress was a cracked stand-up mirror she’d rummaged from the dump outside. She hurriedly wiggled out of her baggy overshirt to check.

Standing before her reflection with just her undershirt, sternum exposed, she saw it for the first time. Emblazoned over her heart were five glowing purple lines—three of them parallel, two smaller and perpendicular, as if running as one below the others. They were arranged something like an X, centered squarely on her chest. A shiver ran down her spine—she watched her own eyes widen.

“Arufa, are you okay?” Skyler asked, calling over from the door.

“No! When did this get here?!” she squealed, clawing at the strange pattern as if trying to remove it. She looked insane—she felt insane.

Skyler held her by the arm and brought her to the door, her hands shaking uncontrollably. Her thoughts spiraled as the policeman seized her. How?! Has this always been here? Am I still dreaming? Oh, God, what is happening to me?!

“I’m sorry. You’ll be coming with me,” he said. With one swift move, he turned her around and tightened electronic handcuffs around her wrists. They instantly paralyzed her, rendering her struggle useless.

“But–”

“You have the right to remain…” he grabbed her by her shoulders and thrust her into the back of the police car. She braced for impact, horrified and morbidly confused.

...

. . .

.  .  .

“Silent.” Arufa blinked and found herself standing just outside the warehouse. She couldn’t remember how she’d gotten here. Did I sleepwalk? Where’s my overshirt? How long have I been out here?

Shaking off an unpleasant tingling in her arms, she hesitantly approached the door and opened it. Skyler was just waking up. “Hey,” she said, trepid. “Do you remember me walking out there?”

“Uh…” they let out a yawn, “…no. Just woke up. Hi.”

“So, weird thing,” Arufa said. “I could have sworn I had my shirt on last night. Y'know, the big baggy one?”

“When’d you take it off?”

“I don’t know. That's what's freaking me out.”

She saw it finally, after a bit of searching. Somehow, it had ended up below her mirror. She picked it up and checked herself out. Eww. There are red marks on my chest. Did I scratch at it while I was sleepwalking?

Suddenly she found herself wondering something. A very strange question, one she was certain of the answer to. She asked it aloud without thinking, looking at Skyler over her shoulder.

“Hey, I don’t have any tattoos, right?”

They raised an eyebrow. “No…?”

“That’s what I thought. I don’t know why I asked that.”

She sat on her bed for a bit, staring off into the corner. Various scrap they’d picked up on their adventures lined the floor, mostly locks they’d cracked and pouches they’d stolen. Most of them she’d forgotten the stories behind.

She scratched at her wrists. “Ow.”

“You alright?” Skyler asked.

“Yeah, I… there are imprints on my wrists.” She blinked, almost expecting them to disappear. It looked as though she’d been bound by handcuffs. “When… did those get there?”

In an instant she remembered it all. Her strange dream, the policeman, the tattoo, the handcuffs. And most of all, their sudden disappearance—along with her memory of them.

She shot up out of bed and skidded on her feet to look in the mirror. As if summoned, the tattoo appeared once again on her sternum. “Skyler!”

“Hey, woah, calm down. What’s up?”

“You said I didn’t have any tattoos, right?”

“No, you totally do, what?”

“That is NOT what you said, you liar!” she roared, pivoting on her heel and pointing at them. She jutted her thumbs towards the lines over her heart. “Am I going crazy?!”

Skyler stood, backing away towards the scrap. They put their hands up. “Woah, calm down! What are you talking about?”

She snatched her overshirt and shook it. “I had to take this off when that officer showed me the security footage, right?”

“Yeah, you were getting all freaked out over it.”

“But you JUST asked me when I took it off! And I said I didn’t know!”

“So you lied, ‘cause you do know!”

She tossed the shirt at them in annoyance. “No! I just remembered because my wrists hurt!”

“How did you forget? What, do you have Alzheimer’s?”

“One, rude. And two, you forgot, too! You just don’t remember that! For… some reason.”

“Maybe you are going crazy,” Skyler spat. They put their hand on the door, ready to leave. “I’m gonna go find out what you did to the police officer to get him to let you go.”

Arufa pulled at her hair, racking her brain. What is happening to me?! I’ve got this crazy tattoo, and it’s like my memories just don’t line up… And Skyler’s acting insane, too. Not to mention whatever it was that happened last night.

“Arufa!” Skyler called. She snapped to attention. “It’s gone!”

“Huh?”

“The car’s gone! And there’s not even a dent on the door where he was banging!”

She hurried outside. Indeed, any trace of the police had disappeared. It aligned with her experience, but how had it happened? Arufa glanced over at Skyler.

“So now who’s crazy?”

Skyler brought their hand up to their forehead and winced. “I think both of us.”

“Mass hallucination is what that bodyguard called it. You really think we’re both losing our minds?”

“No way. There’s something up here.”

“I mean, we could just be insane. Plus, if I’m being honest, I don’t really remember what I was confused about.”

“It was about the… the… dammit. Right on the tip of my tongue. I forgot the word.”

“You know, I heard forgetting words isn’t actually a sign of Alzheimer’s or anything. Just means you have a lot of words in your head.”

“Actually, problem is, I only have one.”

“Which is?”

“Food.” By coincidence, Skyler’s stomach growled as they said it. “Speaking of. Maybe that’s why we're so messed up. Haven’t eaten in a day.”

“How much money did we have again?”

“I dunno. Flip a coin.”

She thumbed a coin out of her pocket—the same one she’d taken out of the wallet yesterday—and flipped it. Heads. “Was that supposed to do anything?”

“Hah, no. Like you said,” they laughed, “there was always a hundred-sixty in this wallet.”

“Adds up. Glad you found those two twenties yesterday.”

“For sure. Let’s get our brains fixed up with some breakfast, yeah?”

Skyler handed Arufa her overshirt, and the two walked off, blissfully unaware of the diagonal pattern scoring their chests.