Madness ➮ Harry Styles AU

B9

Christopher

Television screens adorned the room drastically, hanging over and draping my figure as if they could actually feel my fear.

My mind was racing, and with every step I took, I couldn't help but think that it was just another monotonous step towards my impending doom.

My thoughts: scattered, scared, and sparse, composed of nothing but meaningless paranoia.

The words: "Come to the institution now, it's important," traveling through the depths and echoing within every part of me.

In all honesty, I was scared shitless, but I wasn't one to admit it, obviously.

And the fact that Matthew was here with me, his finger resting on the space bar of a keyboard and a sad expression written on his face, wasn't exactly reassuring.

Yet, the pixelated image of Ashley lying across the screen was even less.

"What is it? What is this important thing that you needed to tell me?" I nearly yelled, my voice cracked and urgent.

And Matthew, being the shady fucker he is, said absolutely nothing. He just tapped the spacebar and stood still as it emitted a soft click.

Immediately, the video upon the screen began playing; the audio voiceless.

However, the first thing that caught my attention was, surprisingly, not Ashley and whatever she was preoccupied with, but rather the vast and marvelous images sketched upon her wall.

"What's that?"

The drawings were undoubtedly composed by her, I've known her long enough to recognize that. It's just, why here? Where did she get the supplies to make that? And most of all, why were they all eyes?

"Our psychiatrists believe that leisure time activities, such as drawing, can help us understand her stance on the... the.. situation better." Matthew responded almost too professionally, as if it were rehearsed.

"Is this the important thing that you needed to show me?"

Even I could hear the apparent hope in my voice as it rang through my ears. Hope that a small thing like this was to be considered "important" in Matthew's mind and that something as minor as this was to be the source of my treacherous fears.

"No."

Oh.

My stomach dropped, and it seemed that I had forgotten that the world hated me far too much to let this slide.

The video continued to play as usual for the next couple minutes, it was quite uneventful, really. Just Ashley sitting on her bed or wandering aimlessly throughout her room, but I enjoyed watching it even so, just because it was her.

Yet, somewhere along the line, in which I was admiring how beautifully the patient's gown hugged her figure (how anything she wore did, actually) the white door, adjacent to her bed, swung open abruptly.

A boy, a young-looking one at that, entered the room. Instantly, his eyes locked with Ashley's mural and the platter of various foods he was carrying dropped to the floor in surprise. I couldn't hear a thing, but I could see that they begun to talk. It was strange, to say the least, considering that the longer the conversation went on, the angrier Ashley seemed to grow.

And I could feel the enragement and jealousy coursing through me like a wildfire, simply because I hated that he angered her and also that he, an insignificant employee, was able to spend all this time with my fiancée while I was cast away to watch a recording of it.