The stale smell of hospital sheets invades my nose, making my eyes flutter open. I'm in some small room that's way too cold to be in any way humane. There's a bed on the other side of the room, with a tall skinny boy sitting up in it. He's staring at me, and i'm not sure if he knows i'm awake. I shift my arm a bit so hopefully he'll get that i've been caught staring feeling and go back to bed. He continues staring so i sit up as well, looking at him.
"What's up with you?" i ask in a bitter tone, glaring at him as if he could see my eyes in the small room filled with nothing but pitch blackness. He giggles and lays down, still staring right at me. "What the fuck is your problem" i shout, beginning to stand up and leave the room. A lady who was much shorter than the average female runs over to my room, stopping me from leaving.
"What do you need sweety?" i need to get the hell out of here, i think to myself, anger flooding my body.
"May i go to the restroom." i say calmly, but the hint of anger can be heard at the back of my throat, sitting there and waiting to explode. The small lady nods her head and leads me into the hallway, towards a small bathroom with more prison like toilets and a shower designed specifically so you can't hang yourself by it. It makes me wonder if anybody's hung themselves here, and that's why it's like that. An eerie feeling runs up my spine, making me shiver. I pace around the restroom some, then running my hand under the touch free sink. Because who knows what harm we could do to ourselves with some actual fucking sink handles. This room has the touch free, the other has some sort of weird button contraption in it. It baffles me that we can't even have sink handles.
I look into what could hardly be called a mirror, it's just some dirty grey reflective metal that's all bent and scratched. I probably look like death and i'd never be able to tell.
I fake washing my hands, walk out of the restroom and pretend the lady isnt following me to watch me get back into bed as i enter my room. Covering my body in the blankets that feel like sandpaper, rolling to face the wall so i at least can't see the creep staring at me while i sleep. It's probably three am, but i'd never know since we can't have clocks in our rooms. Or even outside of them, none of us get any sense of what time it is unless we walk to the nurses station or ask a staff member. It drives me insane not knowing what time it is, especially during night time when it feels like hours have passed but we still aren't allowed to leave the rooms for breakfast.
I'm almost never able to sleep during night, so i just stare at the walls and play songs in my head until the lights turn on and the collective yelling of two staff members telling everyone to wake up is the only sound you can hear, besides the grumbling of grumpy admits wanting more time to sleep. Weekends are my favourites, because we get to sleep in.
My guess of what time it was must've been violently off, because what could have been fifteen or so minutes passed and the lights start to turn on. I get up before the staff members reach our rooms to tell us to wake up, quickly making my bed and walking towards the lunchroom. It's unbearably tiny, so i chose the seat next to the wired up window every day so i can look outside at the same house and same parking lot i see every day. The room begins to flood with more children, from ages four to eighteen. There's two new admits, one looks tired and worn out, covered in cuts and the other is shaky, watching everything cautiously. His knuckles are bruised and cut up. I begin to imagine what things brought them here, other than the obvious. "What's your name?" the guy covered in wounds asks me, his voice is deep, hes tall and very masculine. He reminds me of Marcus and it makes my stomach clench up.
"I'm Taylor" i reply, my voice coming out in a more forced uncomfortable tone than i thought it would have. He nods, telling me his name is Hayden. He politely asks why i'm in here, and i tell him the truth. "I'm a fuck up and they wouldn't let me die even though it would have been better for everybody. And i guess anorexia and bulimia is thrown on the side too. Are you here for long term stay or one of the regular stays?" i realize i'm probably talking too much and annoying those around me.
"I'm just here for five days i think. They said thats how long i'm probably staying. I'm guessing you're long term?" i nod and look down at my food, pushing it around on the plastic plate with the spoons we're given that are made to bend not break. We have pancakes today. They feel stiff and cold, and i can't bring myself to eat them or the tasteless cereal we get every morning. I try bringing the small juice cup up to my mouth, just to feel my limbs go numb and my vision go black. I can't remember anything that just happened, and it makes me feel sick and sad, for some reason, and anxious as all hell.
Marcus removes the thin blanket he brought from his house from over my head, smiling
down at me and kissing my forehead. "Good morning, dork."
// hi there im so sorry for short and not so frequent updates ive been going through a lot lately. i'm doing my best, so please be patient <3
YOU ARE READING
Pretty Boy.Teen Fiction
Taylor weighs a whopping 98 pounds, and in his mind he weights over 300 all thanks to a comment a few boys made in the locker room. He goes through sweat, blood, and tears just to become the pretty boy society expects him to be.