The Unexpected ( Boy x Boy )

My name is Joshua. Officer Joshua Siris. And I'm about to tell you a story. A story that will make you laugh, cry, and possibly blow your mind. For you see, I'm no ordinary guard: I'm a security guard. My stay at my work was like no other. And it all started at a place unknown to the human mind: Capriss Maximum Security Insane Asylum.
I was nineteen back then. Funny, actually, how my uniform didn't fit. Even though I wasonly 5'9, I was pretty scrawny. My hair was a mousy brown, clashing with my ice blue eyes. I was pretty pale for my age, and I stuck out like a sore thumb. But I was used to it, after all.
Having not met most of the other workers yet, I sat alone at a seperate table, poking at a still bleeding steak with my fork. If this was what was fed to them, then just what did they feed these patients? Raw chicken? I hoped not. Taking a deep breath, I took a chunk out of the meat with my knife and watched as the blood came pooling onto my plate. I nearly groaned in disgust. But, if this was all there was to eat, then I would have to deal with it. As I prepared myself to eat, a voice stopped me.
"Not so fast, rookie. Y'won't be able to handle somethin' that raw."
In a matter of seconds I had a hand gripping the stranger's collar, with a taser pointed to his heart. I casted a swift glare into his brown eyes, and took notice of his black hair.
"Relax. No crazies are gettin' in or outta here. Made sure of that meself. Now put that away, and I might just let this slide."
Crap! How could I have forgotten!? You can't even draw a taser around this place without filling out a hundred different forms afterward. I set the stranger down and shrugged sheepishly.
"I'm--"
I stopped myself. I was in the presence of an official officer. I should be sounding more professional, not casual. As the stranger raised an eyebrow, I cleared my throat and tried again.
"The name's Joshua. You?"
The officer seemed amused and he chuckled lightly, placing a hand on my head. What a jerk! I may have been the youngest here, but I wasn't a child!
"Jus' call me Washington. Everyone else does."
I sighed mentally. Obviously this 'Washington' seemed like a nice person. I could trust him...For now. That's when something was shoved at me. I raised an eyebrow and took the shiny wrapper, examining it closely.
"S'food. Heard yer stomach from 'ere, midget."
I rolled my eyes and opened the wrapper. Right then, I could practically hear the heavenly choir above me. It was a granola bar. But not just any granola bar, it was dipped in chocolate. Sugar! I ate quickly, waiting for him to finish before waving him off.
"Hold it right there. Y'prolly don't know where the hell yer goin, dontcha?"
Busted. I turned around and shrugged. How hard could it be to memorize the inside of a building like this?
"C'mon, rookie. Lemme show ya th'ropes."
The building was huge. Much bigger than I expected it to be. I now realized why Wash was so set on showing me around. A thumping noise, followed by a frustrated growl stopped me in my tracks. It seemed that one of the patients was trying to get my attention. I turned towards one of the many steel doors, curiosity getting the best of me. I really wish I hadn't looked.
A crimson handprint was smeared on the reinforced window. The print was smudged downward, and I raised an eyebrow. Iwalked forward to get a closer look at the bloody patient. Obviously something was wrong if there was visible blood. I cupped my hands around my eyes and peered inside. As I was about to step away, a girl about eight years of age slammed on the inside of the window, creating another handprint. I could plainly see why.
The girl seemed to be missing en eye, and a steady stream of blood ran down her left cheek. Odd. Why wasn't she given any health care? Surely one would die without it.
"Keep yer eyes off the patients. Yer givin' them hope for survival. We lose more of 'em that way."
Survival? What kind of a place was this?
No questions asked, I followed behind the man. My mind wouldn't stop wandering to that poor girl. A wave of pity washed over me like rain, almost making my knees buckle. I managed to keep myself up and turned my attention to the left wall, pretending to be interested in a yellowed, worn out poster to stall enough time to recover.
It was beyond old. I could barely make out the faded lettering at the top.
PLEASE WEAR GLOVES WHEN ATTENDING TO THE PATIENTS. THEY BITE.
I chuckled, unsure whether to laugh or take the advice seriously. As my gaze lowered, I could make out a picture of a glove. Water stains mushed up the colors of the picture, blotting the glove in crimson. I shuddered. I had seen way too much blood today. As I followed behind Washington, I tuned out his steady rambling about each patient and what they were diagnosed with. I was more interested in the possibility of talking to one. Who knows? Maybe one of them is sane enough to actually start up a conversation.
"Boy, are you a space cadet or what? Pay attention, or you could get yerself killed. Understand? Damned rookie...Now. The patients can only be talked to during mealtime. They are able to communicate--Well, most of 'em--Without stabbing you in the heart in the process. That being said, stay away from the list of rooms on your recruit form. And never. EVER. Enter room four hundred three. Got it?"
He sure sounded serious about this whole thing. What could be so scary about one patient? That's what his weapons were for.
"What's in room four oh three?" I asked, glancing over at the dented steel door he had pointed to. It seemed as though it had taken quite a beating, compared to the rest of the rooms.
"Look for yerself." He stated simply. I raised an eyebrow. Didn't he just tell me not to enter? I shrugged and once again cupped my hands around my eyes, peering through the cracked glass. I expected something gruesome, like the girl in the other room. And I was right.
Footprints were clearly visible on the floor of the cell. They seemed to lead from one end of the room to the other, as if the patient had been walking in circles. I followed the trail to a pair of raw, bleeding chained ankles.
The patient's feet were bare, and because of that the chains were tearing away at his flesh. I grimaced, daring to look at what I expected was a sullen face. However, what I saw was a knotted white cloth, gagging the patient and leaving him mute. Blood seeped through the material, drippingdown the corners of his lips, down his chin, and onto his crisp white straightjacket.On his eyes was a black blindfold. He wasn't damaged too much like the girl was: There was no blood seeping through that cloth. He looked pale--sickly, even--and I could clearly see the lines of his ribs. He hadn't eaten in weeks. Were they planning to starve him to death?
"Stop yer pityfest and come along. This is all ya need to know fer now." Washington mumbled, walking ahead yet again.
"Right..." I replied, following behind him. I couldn't help but sneak a final glance at the patient's cell as it dissapeared out of sight.