There's a new supervisor today. We sent the other one away. It was during one of our room wars, and the supervisor came in at the wrong time, before the mess had ended. She jumped out before he could move, she grabbed on with her teeth until his hand bled, dark red, almost purple, leaving drips on the floor. He fell and curled against the wall, and Lucy didn't know how to fight his back, so she left to fight someone else. I liked him, I screamed when he crumpled. He wouldn't move or turn around, but I went over to him and had my arm around his back, so no one else would bite him without facing me first.
I was shaking when the commotion finally died down – a staffer had opened the automatic door to the play area, and everyone ran out of the typing room to go there, though I stayed. They closed it after everyone left, and then they came in the room to remove me from the supervisor. Their touch was gentle, and they whispered in quiet voices and lifted my arm off him, Aaron. A small pool of red had dripped on the floor, and the staffers pulled him up under his arms, and supported him out the door. I followed them until the doorway, where I stopped and watched them.
Aaron turned around. "Thank you, Pete." He smiled, but his face was weak. I signed back.
Do you not like us?
Aaron had his bitten hand clenched by his chest. He used the other to reply.
I like you.
I hate Lucy. If she were me, she would have bitten herself ten times for the one time she bit Aaron. I wanted to fight her, and I would win, but she was kept away from everyone else since the incident.
Sometimes I thought about going to her quiet room when no one was watching, opening the door and beating her up, and I can, but I don't want to. The staffers know me and I like them, they like me, and I don't want more problems for them. I'm angry though. I throw my animals across my quiet room and tear at them, and the stuffing comes out, and then I hate myself for breaking them. The stuffing is now in my bed, making it softer, so I curl up there whenever I have to be alone. I do my typing, letting the visitors admire me as much as they want to, and I'm always looking through the glass to see Aaron on the other side, but he's gone for sure.
The new supervisor watches me, from behind curly, giant hair.