Adommy One Shots

Lucy

Written By Writer_Babe

*Tommy P.O.V*

I walked through the crowd of people, looking like drowns as we all wore the same matching grey sweats and sweaters. Of course the wardrobe was my first complaint when I got here. Sadly, it's mandatory.

I glanced back, seeing that all the guards were occupied with giving the sticks and stones their doses of pills. I sent a warning glare to a few people who were eyeing me suspiciously, making their gaze turn away immediatly as I swiftly opened the door, walking in and making my way up the stairs.

The roof was my favorite place here. The roof was a restricted place here, which is reasonable considering what has happened and what is still happening. I walked over to the ledge, letting my elbows rest on the hard cement as I stared down at all the people.

All the free people. I could leave whenever I wanted. I wasn't captive. I wasn't free. I'm my own hell and becuase of that I'd never be free. But them, the people crowding the streets with forced smiling faces, they were worse than us.

Us, the ones who were behind locked doors, being told to deal with the mess we've thrown our lives into. Being giving medicine so that all we felt was numbness. Numbness to the problem and numbness to the truth.

I never toke the medicine. I never let it consume me. I never let it invade me. I never let it become me. So I was fucked up, I'm dealing with it. Temporary displacement would never be the answer for me. It's not for anyone. They just don't know it.

I subconsciously found myself with my wrist in my hand, rubbing fiercely at the ruined skin. I sighed, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. Letting my hand leave my wrist and run through my straight blonde hair.

I opened my eyes staring back out into the city. Back out into the place that corrupted me first hand. I had no right to think what I just thought. I don't assign blame. It's my life; It's my fault.

I'm the reason I'm so fucked up.

''Inpatient!'' A new voice. A male voice. From the authorities edge and the use of the word 'inpatient' clearly it was a guard, and a new one at that. A proper one. But I wasn't in the mood. I'm never in the mood, people know that about me. That is the only thing people know about me.

''Inpatient step away from the ledge,'' The voice continued and at his words a bitter laugh left my lips. How insulting. It's not right to judge someone on first sight. I could feel him moving closer.

''I'm not a jumper.'' I informed him, not bothering to turn back and face him. I felt an arm on my shoulder and vile rose in my throat as I shrugged it off. ''You really shouldn't touch me.'' I told him.

Being touched by people for me was like having all your darkest fears thrown into a cave and just as you think all your problems are solved you're thrown into it with them. It makes you feel like there's no way out-It makes me feel like there's no way out.

I hate it when people touch me. I hate the feeling I get. If they touch me then they're real. If they're real, I'm real. If I'm real my problems are real.

That's what scares me the most.

I pulled at the sleeves of my sweater letting it cover my wrists and hands, feeling a presence next to me.

''What's your name Inpatient?'' He asked. I brought my eyes up, gazing at the rising sun.

''You need it for the slip you're gonna write against me, or do you just want to know because you and the rest of your guard buddies are oh so kind.'' I remarked, feeling tension take over my body.