Volatile. (One Direction)

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

-Louis-

Hmm, I thought. She seems, different. Most mental facility patients look the part, the wild glint in their eye and the crooked grin constantly upon their features. But she, she didn't have either. It was as if she wasn't mentally insane at all. Of course, that was a hilarious thought, as obviously she was psychotic. Why else would she be locked in here?

When she said hello, I was pleasantly surprised. I figured Haven would do most of the talking, but this young girl, Azlyn, had proven me wrong. She's what, eighteen? Being twenty-two myself, she seemed much more innocent than I, almost like a child.

"Well, would you like to be my friend?" She questioned, seeming anxious about my reply.

"Of course, Az. I can call you Az, right?" I asked, checking myself incase it would trigger anything. You never honestly know, with people these days.

"Sure! Y-yeah, sounds great!" She exclaimed, seeming almost joyous at the newfound friendship and my nickname for her. I smiled at her, apparently making her giggle.

She's so sweet.

"Well, I got to get to Bea, so I'll see you guys around?" I guessed, slowly inching towards the door with a grin. Az blushed slightly, nodding, while Haven muttered an, of course.

I strolled down the hall, whistling occasionally. I came across many different doors, all seeming out of order and dysfunctional. Who decorated this corridor? I scraped my feet along the floor, pausing when I noticed the room I was to report to.

Bea Castro, Room 1702

Well, this is where it all begins.

Let's just hope she isn't too much of a hassle...

_______________________

-Bea-

So, my old guard quit. Shame, I truly was beginning to like annoying him. Well, let's pray my new one doesn't mind if I mess with him a bit...

I heard a knock on the door; swiftly twisting towards the noise, I jumped up and opened it, seeing a brunette boy with blue eyes.

He looks so... Young. In his early twenties, I'd guess. His hair was oddly styled, probably a recent trend. I wouldn't know, of course, as being locked up due to mental instabilities doesn't allow you to learn much about the world nowadays. I mean, were NSYNC still singing? They were my favorite, 'till I got taken away.

He seemed cautious, slowly inching towards my figure. I wondered why he wasn't already running, I know I would. What with my scraggly hair and boney body, eyelids bruised purple and face a pale yellow tint. My nails and feet were not up for discussion, their nails torn and a distant grey.

"Hey, Bea, is it?" He questioned, seeming nervous as it slipped in his tone. I nodded, almost eagerly, waiting for him to speak more so that I can evaluate him.

"May I call you Bea, or would you prefer something else? Beatrice, perhaps?" The man didn't mean to, but I slowly began to shake my head, my movements growing more rapid as my hair flung in a tangled mesh.

"No! Bea! Bea, and only Bea!" I shrieked, my conscience being wiped clear as my facade of normalcy shattered, my inner psychopath seeping in through the seams of my mask. He seemed taken back by the outburst, backing away a few steps, before gently reaching out to calm me in some manner.

Wrong move.

In a flash, my hand was gripping his wrists tighter than his blood flow should allow. That became apparent as his forearm turned a sickly purple, causing him to gasp and attempt to remove my hold of him. As his pain was etched clearly onto his, otherwise, attractive face, my clasp was weakened, my hands eventually falling limp to my sides as I panted, the situation a bit too intense for my first impression of the newcomer.

"O-Okay! Bea! Bea!" He exclaimed, calming my senses. I reluctantly stepped back, expecting him to run off to the office and demand another patient. He was.. Different, though. He didn't run. He stayed, and raggedly breathed, but he stayed. His eyes were wide, full of curiosity as to what could've compelled me to attack him in such a way. Simply my full name. Beatrice. I abhored the name with a passion. It brought horrid memories from otherwise tolerable times.

"I-I'm sorry.. I just, hate my full name.. It brings back dreadful things.." I stuttered, my vision blurring from the tears welled up in my eyes. He seemed understanding, like he knew why I loathed it so much. If only.

He seemed to feel uncomfortable talking after that scene, so he suggested we head to lunch. I simply nodded, following after him.

_______________________

-Azlyn-

I was sat at the lunch table, waiting for Bea to come. She was late, as per usual. Haven made small talk, about her children's grades, her husband's job, anything that popped into her mind, really.

My head snapped to attention when I heard the distinct voice of my best friend. Finally, I thought. What took her so long? Was she trying to scare Louis away?

She better not. He seems nice, and he's my new friend.

"Could you- could you please stop poking me?" I heard a man mumble. I squinted, trying to make out where they were. A fluffy head of platinum blonde hair appeared in my view, Bea skipping ahead of Louis, giggling.

"Hello, princess! How art thou day go-eth?" Bea questioned sophisticatedly. For a twenty year-old, she sure does act like she's eight.

Chuckling, I replied, "Why, yes. Her majesty's day has been splendid." Haven shook her head, brunette bob swaying with her motions. After the laughing was over, I turned to see a very bemused Louis, his puzzlement clear in his features.

"Hi, Louis! Would you like to join us? Apparently, since I'm meant to leave on my eighteenth birthday, Haven has decided lunch would be my Going-Away party planning time!" I exclaimed, acting enthusiastic even though all I wanted to do was stay here forever. Louis looked even more confused, and opened his mouth to speak, when there was an abrupt halt in our conversation.

The Warden had just come into lunch.

Mr. Harry Styles.