Madness ➮ Harry Styles AU

B8

Ashley

The first thing I knew upon waking up this morning is that the hard light protruding my vision seemed to be a bit brighter, a bit more harsh than what I've grown accustomed to.

The second, however, was that I was not the only person occupying the room.

Shoving the white comforter aside, I sat up in bed, my surroundings shifting immediately from horizontal to vertical.

The girl before me was dressed casually. Light washed skinny jeans, a peach long-sleeved shirt that was a bit baggy in certain areas, and a laminated clip-on name tag adorned her figure.

Under the blocky, navy blue "London's Institute for the Mentally Impaired" read:

BETH C. MORRIS

NURSE

Which didn't surprise me. I had learned to match the name to the face of the girl who had served my meals to me for what seemed like an unforgiving eternity.

She seemed nervous, unsettled at the least.

"Hi." I said as she, strangely, just stood there.

Her light-colored eyes met mine, tinted with slight pixels of gold, and dancing with astonishment.

"Hi..."

The tone of her voice was evidently hesitant, almost afraid. She looked at me with this strange bewildered expression, almost as if I was insane.

Which, wasn't really too far off.

"How are you?" I asked politely, unsure of her reactions.

"I'm uh... I'm good.."

"Are you okay? Because you look unwell."

"Um.. yes."

The entire exchange was undoubtedly awkward. Not because I made it so, but rather, because her responses were terribly cautious, as if sticks and stones really couldn't break her bones, and the entire phrase was twisted.

"Where's Harry?" I asked, very obviously tired of beating around the bush and wishing that she would catch the innuendo.

"He uhh.. h-he has school today.. as well as for the rest of the week..." She paused. "T-They all just got back from summer break so I should... I should be h-here more often."

Her voice was sweet and accented. American, would be my guess. Either way, the fear laced within every one of her features was inevitable and yet, highly unsettling to me.

"Oh." I replied simply.

"Yeah..."

And it wasn't until trailing my gaze over upon where hers had been settled towards that I uncovered the reason beneath her evident surprise.

She was staring directly at my wall, my mural to be exact.

"Oh...." I said over again, dragging the last letter. This time in recognition and not just for the sake of responding. "Do you like it?"

Her brown eyes were wide, consumed in terror, and her mouth visibly agape in a drastic fashion. She exhaled a trembling sigh, shaky as feeble trees in the midst of Fall.

"What... What are those?"

"Eyes, obviously."

She just kinda stared at it. And I really didn't know how to react. I'd like to think that it had caused her to be speechless, but I don't think that was really the case.

"How did you... how did you do this?"

"With a pen." My voice was nonchalant, filling the room casually.