Broken Brent [bxb]

Part 2-18. 72 Hours Trapped In Hell

Anybody in my situation would need a drink. Nobody wants to go through a minatory seventy-two psych hold sober. I've done it once, not fun. Last time I was here one of the janitors snuck me something. Too bad that guy got fired. Who knew sneaking crazy minors alcohol was ground for expulsion? Plus they confiscated my cigarettes. So even though I keep tapping my pocket to feel the lube shape of a smoke, I know it’s not there.

I hate being here. I can't believe Dr. Fenton went this far. I was only going to kill myself if Olive needed an organ I wasn't going to kill myself for fun. I didn't want Olive waking up from surgery to discover her only living brother is dead. I would never put her through that. I love her.

Somehow Dr. Fenton took my question and twisted it. Why am I being punished because he failed to understand me? I'm no more suicidal than anybody else in this fucked up generation.

I’ve been here for roughly four hours which means about sixty-eight hours to go. I’ll be keeping track while I’m here. I’m not saying I want to go back to Travis’, but at least when I’m out of here I can do something fun, like drink. I’m really starting to think those AA meetings Olive was having me go too really helped and I don’t feel like I wasted my time at all. Lying to yourself isn’t always fun.

"Bambi!" It can't be Fiona. She was getting better, gaining weight she was starting to look healthy.

I turn to face the speaker, "Fi?" I can't believe she's here. A glance at her wrist tells me why.

She jumps on me, now her legs are around my waist and her arms around my neck. "I missed you." She buries her head into my neck.

Fiona Savannah Gibson
Age: seventeen
Height: 5'7
Sexuality: unknown/who cares
Hair: Natural unknown, currently black.
Weight: always changing
Mental Disorder: take a number

I feel bad thinking about Fi that way, but that's how everybody in here pops up in my head.

"Hey! You two!" Someone yells, "Break it up!"

Fi hops down. Not a second later I get hit in the shoulder. "Ouch." I rub my shoulder. She punched me.

"That's for coming back." She smiles, "Why you here?" Her eyes scan my body, I don't like when people besides Peter do that. "You look healthy."

"Looks can be deceiving." I take a good look at her. Oh no. "Did you stop eating again?" I whisper like its a secret.

Her face drops, "I, ah..."

"Fi..." She needs to eat. She can hate herself as much as she wants, but she needs to eat. Her mom's a chief for crying out loud.

"Enough about me, so Bambi, what brings you to my bumble home?" Home, she's been here a while. I won't be.

"I guess I'm suicidal again." 

She smiles, "Aren't we all?"

I hope that's not true. I hope there are happy people out there. People who aren't faking smiles. If all any of us are doing is faking it why do we try?

It reminds me of Olive because she's always trying to get everyone else to smile. Granted, Olive's smile is contagious, but some people don't like the attention smiling brings. If I smile people tend to talk to me more than I really want them to. If I stay expressionless people don't talk my ear off. There are a few people that will still talk my ear off even if I don't put an emotion on my face. Only one of them is here.

"I guess." I shrug off our conversation.

"You guess?” She smiles and just looks at me. “How’s things with Peter?”