My god this boy was gorgeous. Brown hair cut short but just long enough to give off the 'just rolled out of bed' look. Green eyes with a mischievous spark and pink lips. That jaw line!!!!
Greyson stuck his hand out for me to shake but all I could do was glare. I was in a fucking straight jacket!!!
"Ops. Sorry." He smiled and slowly and carefully unclipped the muzzle. Then went to the jacket and unclipped the arms so I could finally move around.
"Aren't you supposed to be a guard?" I asked sceptically.
"Nope, I'm actually a patient here. But hey! If you gotta spend your life here might as well make it interesting."
"Then how'd you get the guard uniform?"
"The last guard was brutally killed afew weeks ago, I snatched his uniform before the nurses found him." Greyson smirked.
"How was he killed?" I asked.
"He stepped on crazy Carl's foot."
"That sounds fun." I sighed looking towards the door to the cell desperately wanting to just go in and sleep. Though I probably wouldn't be able too.
"Yup. I'm lucky too, he choked him with his bare hands and so there wasn't any blood to get onto the uniform."
"Can I leave?" I finally just got it out. I mean sure I was thankful for him taking the muzzle off and unclipping my arms but if I had known that him talking my ear off was the price then I would've gladly kept everything on.
"Oh sorry," Greyson said a rating the back of his neck embarrassed "it's been a long time since anyone new came and wasn't a completely insane and especially if they look as..." He took a moment for his eyes to wander over my body which was only covered in booty shorts and a straight jacket. "Beautiful, as you. It's good to have someone to talk to; you know?" He sighed looking at me like a lost puppy.
As hot as he may be, I really don't need anyone in my life.
"Sorry, not sorry. I wouldn't know since probably unlike you, I don't normally talk to people much." I said unfazed by the comment about me being beautiful. I knew it was a lie anyways.
"Oh. Ok." Greyson mumbled and opened my cell door. I walked inside but caught the door before it closed.
"And Greyson?" I asked with a smirk.
"Yea?"
"Who says that I'm not completely insane?"
"You don't seem like it."
I shook my head chuckling "look around you, we're all mad here." And with that I let the door slam shut. Something didn't feel right with him.
***
The next few weeks I'd spent wandering the halls with the guards, with Greyson, in therapy or maybe talking to Ajax. I didn't really like grey but he was the only one who didn't cower away from me; we had a silent understanding, I wasn't 100% sure what it was but I knew that as long as we kept talking then everything would be fine. Though I still felt slightly weary when he was around. Every time I spoke with Ajax we got closer and closer and I had to admit that through the week is look forward to seeing him. He made my days bearable even when I couldn't see him. Therapy was complete bullshit. There were individual assessments and then there were group assessments where I'd sit in a circle full of crazies either scratching their bodies till they drew blood and had to have their hands wrapped and nails clipped so they wouldn't hurt themselves, people who silently talked to themselves into a deep conversation and then started yelling at the 'voices in their head', or maybe even people who swore up and down that there were a supernatural being and started to rip their bland white or grey clothes off like they had super strength in movies where the fabric would just rip effortlessly. That made me a bit self conscious; I mean I'm in a mental hospital with clothes that could rip easier than paper towel, that ought to freak some people out. Anyways; during the group therapy we'd all be surrounded by twenty or so guards who were all heavily armed with weapons that they were not the slightest bit afraid to use... I guess that's part of the job but then again you'd have to be mental to work in a mental hospital. I'd seen a few people try to break out but that never ended up well for them, depending on the situation sometimes they'd be tasered or shot at, some times even killed. But other times the patient would be surrounded and then forcefully brought back to their cell where'd they be put under severe watch and then given extra chores to do like clean the bathroom with cotton swaps or their own toothbrush.We sat in the circle while the councillor would ask questions and try to make us feel better by saying we were doing a great job but I doubt that even she knew what we were doing to be great at anything considering she was the only one who ever talked. During my independent/ individual assessment/ therapy I'd sit on a stiff metal chair that had been nailed to the floor I front of a metal desk which was also nailed to the floor, the room was grey and dull; reminded me of a police interrogation room. A different therapist would sit at the other end of the table and question me about how I was feeling and thinking. I never answered.
The weeks turned to months, Ajax visited less and less, once a week went to once a month to not at all, I was practically a zombie in the halls, Greyson didn't mind as he held the conversation for the two of us. Therapy was getting worse as they moved from going once a week to once a day but all I ever did in there was get yelled at as I stared blankly at the wall. Over the time i'd been here I'd become more observant to everything around me. Sure I was like that before but only when I had to be. Now I'd be able to tell what a person was thinking by just looking at them, though I don't speak. I don't think I've spoken since Ajax's last visit. I wondered why people would do the things they did. Why did crazy Carl streak down the hall way everyday at 10 sharp screaming 'the gods will descend.' Why did the therapists think they were helping and saying encouraging words though nobody was listening and it was pointless. Why is the sky blue?
Why did Ajax stop coming to see me?
I knew it was something I did, it always was but I didn't know what it was that I did wrong. All we ever did was sit in that comfy room meant for visitors , though I'm pretty sure Ajax was the only visitor anyone got in the past 15 years, and we talked. No we didn't talk business and about the situation I was in, but we talked like real; normal people. Or at least that's what I thought normal people talked like. I wouldn't really know. We sat talking about the latest news back home with our 'friends' and then we talked about some of the people here. we shared stories and on afew occasions Ajax actually had gotten me to smile, To laugh. And that wasn't nearly as scary as I had thought. Slowly, brick by brick the walls I had put up to protect myself from the cruel world, were coming down, and that was what scared me. It wasn't the wall coming down in general that made me scared but it was the vulnerability hidden behind it that rattled me to the core.
But then Ajax stopped coming.
He wrote a note though. Saying that he had better things to do with his time then come to see a mental patient. As soon as I had read that with much struggle since I could barely read properly, I felt twice as lost as I had been before this all happened and suddenly the walls had been put up again. But this time they looked different; less sturdy as if they would crumble at any moment. The walls I had built up before were strong because I'd spent a lifetime perfecting it, this wall had been thrown up in a last attempt to save myself... But I knew deep down that I wouldn't have enough time to fix my walls, I'd never have enough time.
YOU ARE READING
Lost
Teen Fiction(Book one of the cast away series) You all know 'the crowd'. The misfits The rebels The scary ones with the dark past. Those labels are best suited for my friends and I. But that's all it is, labels. Nobody knows our stories, our reasons or any...
