Ten | newtmas

four

A/N: Hey guys, thanks so much for enjoying the story! (Updated) I just wanted to let you know that Newt, of course, has the British accent, but him and his family just kinda adapted to the American usage of words. And also, he doesn't have the limp... at least not right now. xx

    "Let go of me!" he shouts. Theres a boy about fifteen feet in front of me, being held off by security, trying to reach another boy. They both look around my age, give or take a year. The taller of the two snarls at the security guards and kicks at them while swinging in the air.

    Theres so much shouting, I'm not even sure how to respond. Dr. Ava Paige walks up to the other, non-violent boy and puts a hand on his shoulder.

    I look over to him. He has short brown hair, and a dumbfounded face. Confused, curious, and a little sad. Dr. Ava Paige moves him and starts speaking. While she speaks, I watch the boy look around before locking eyes with me. Its just for a second, but it freezes me in place even more than before. She steers him away and tells him something I can't make out, before he starts walking away into a long white hallway with doors lining it on either side.

    "Oh yeah, walk away!" the large boy yells. He looks like an evil cartoon character with short buzzed down hair and eyebrows that look permanently angry. His face is twisted in rage and he finally manages to push off the security guards. Just as Dr. Ava Paige starts to run back to the large boy, he sees me.

    My eyes widen in fear as he starts towards me. I try to run, but I feel my legs turning into jelly beneath me. Just before he's in my face, the doctor comes to my rescue and holds him back and my mother takes me and pushes me back.

    The boy complies but turns to give me one piece of deranged advice before leaving. His face has pain written all over it as he mutters the words.

    "Run while you can."

    Dr. Ava Paige apologizes for the "mishap" and takes me to my room quickly. She just goes on as if this is just a normality. Which, in this place, it probably is. We reach the front door and she looks into the small, thin window on the side of it.

    "Your roommate isn't here right now, but will probably be back soon. I think you'll like him. Follow me," she says, leading us into the room. My mother has had a death grip on my elbow since the whole fiasco with those boys seconds ago, and seems to refuse letting me go.

    We walk into the room and she tells me the right side of the room is mine. I sit on the bed and snap my ten times while looking at the other side. Theres two or three video game posters, a couple of books that look untouched, a board game, and a messy undone bed. It amazes me how much they let the boy have.

    The room itself is kinda small, but I wasn't expecting otherwise. Its an odd difference from the hallway. Its like walking from a hospital corridor right into a living room. Theres two beds, some shelves, a small chair in the corner, and a dresser looking type thing.

    "Who is he?" My mother asks.

    "His roommate? His name is Chuck. He's a sweet one. He's here for having a slightly routine panic disorder," Dr. Ava Paige replies.

    "Routine?" I ask.

    "Well, not really, I'm not actually supposed to be telling you this. Its just every day. They're easy enough to snap him out of, but it's followed by a tantrum. He's never really in here when they happen, so don't worry. And he has night terrors sometimes," she replies. Wow, how fun.

    "But he's a nice kid?" my mother asks.

    "Yes, definitely. Only fourteen," Dr. Ava Paige says. Fourteen? Thats kinda sad.

    "Oh," I say, at a loss for words.

    "Okay well, I'll let you two stay here for a bit and get yourselves situated, and you can stay here as long as you want as long as its before ten, miss," Dr. Ava Paige says, inching towards the door.

    "Okay, thank you," my mom says as she leaves the room.

    "Should I unpack?" I ask my mom, turning towards her to see she's about to forcefully pull me into a hug. I just comply, wrapping my arms around her.

    "I love you, sweetie. Do you think you'll be okay here? If not I'll take you home right now," she says into my shoulder. I can sense a sniffle in her voice and it makes me want to tear up, but I can't start crying now.

    As much as I want to say "Yes, get me out of here now,", I can't. I want to get better for her, and I don't want to be a burden anymore.

    "I'm okay, Mom," I say.

    "Are you sure? You're not crazy, you don't have to be here," she says. I laugh a little and pull away.

    "You and I both know I'm not normal. Lets just see how I do here. That Chuck kid sounds nice," I say. My mind drifts back to the boy in the hallway, the lost-looking one. He didn't seem to be foaming at the mouth like that other guy. And they all seem to be my peers, so it can't be too bad.

    "Okay. I'm so sorry, sweetie. I really am," my mother says, sniffling and wiping away the tears. She hugs me once more and squeezes me. I squeeze back.

    "Now, lets get unpacking," I say, trying to be lighthearted.

    While she gets my suitcase and opens it, I let my mind wander. I'm in a mental institution. People don't come here for nothing, if you're here, it's serious. I'm sure nobody life threatening is here, because they'd have a separate place. But still, how bad do you have to be?

    And another thing... wheres my father? I'm pretty sure he was supposed to be here. Granted we just got in about five minutes ago, but still. I'd be surprised if he actually showed up instead of sitting in the car.

    I could see him waiting. My mom will probably leave at around eight because, despite what they said, its a pretty long drive. About an hour. They like going to bed at ten, as do I, so I don't think she'll stay. Thats four hours from now, and I think he'd rather sit in the car for four hours then be surrounded by the reminder of my problems.

    Mom tried to convince me that its hard for him because he loves me, but I don't think anyones buying that. I love him and all, but we just don't get along.

    "Newt, are you okay?" my mom says, putting the last of my shirts away.

    "Yeah, yeah. I'm good," I say. I assume its not convincing, because my mother's face drops. She goes to say something, but stops herself before looking back at my suitcase.

    "You really packed lightly, didn't you?" she asks. I feel like theres a metaphor about baggage there somewhere, but I'm too tired to find it.

    "Yeah," I say. The only extra things I brought were some books, a few old non-digital games to keep my mind entertained, and I snuck in a little dvd player with a couple of my old favorite movies in there.

    "Alright, well, thats it. I'll put the suitcase behind the dresser," she says. She turns back to me. "And you're sure you'll be okay? I can convince them to let me stay the night. Or I can just drive up here every day. That could-"

    "Mom," I say, she looks at me. "I'll be fine. Don't go to all that trouble."

    "I just want you to be happy again," she says. This feels like a knife in my heart, and I look down at my hands. It must be so hard for her to see me like this, but thinking about it just makes my depression worse. I don't want to be like this, I want to get better for her. I want to get better to fix my relationship with my dad. I want to get better to make them happy again.

    I want to say something, but I'm afraid I'll start crying so I stay silent.

    "Lets, uh, go look around some more?" she suggests. I hesitate, but get up and make my way over to the door.

    She opens it for me, and we walk back out to see my father walking towards us.