Slayed || Sequel to Homicidal

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C H A P T E R   T E N:

 Only another couple of months to go. When I leave, I'm going to throw a party. It'll just be me in my room at my foster house, but hey, at least it's a celebration.

I don't know why I'm kidding myself so much. When I get out of here, my life is still going to be a mess. I'll be a murderer no matter where I go. I might as well get used to the title now. Murderer. It sounds as bad as I think it does, doesn't it?

All my thoughts are jumbled together in this place. The only time I feel slightly me instead of murderer is when it's free time out in the courtyard. It's still boxed in and controlled and barbed wired, but the fresh air makes us wards feel slightly free. It's better than being indoors, so I take it without complaint. We get an hour each day. Most kids play basketball, but I don't. I lay on the grass with the girl who has anxiety. Alyssa doesn't like me very much and I don't like her very much back, but we're the only people who'll put up with each other.

When we lay together, we don't touch or talk. We tried the talking once, but we ran out of questions to ask each other after five minutes. I tried to touch her once, but she freaked out and started to cry and rock back and forth, so I don't do it anymore. We just lay side by side in silence. Alyssa is actually very pretty. Sometimes, it makes me want to touch her arm or shoulder, but I don't. Her features are very soft. Big, brown eyes and brown hair with a side bang. It's also very curly.

An asshole named Anderson said we're the ringlet twins. I punched him. I had to spend three days in a white, padded room because they thought I was “relapsing”. I know this was just the doctor stating “Harry Syles, we think you're going to stab Anderson Madjes to death like you did with Dustin Rhodes, so we're going to have to remove you from human contact for a few days” in a fancy and less harsh way. In all honesty, it made me feel worse. Sugar coating always feels worse because it's like I'm not important enough to be told the truth.

I don't know if this is good news, bad news, important news, or stupid news, but I'm going to write about it anyway because it's on my mind and this stupid journal is supposed to be for things that are on my mind. Anyway, a week after I was allowed out of the padded room, Ms. Emerson told me my case was being renewed. I was confused when she first told me because she wouldn't give me any details, but I understand now because she's really bad at whispering. It's for my placement after West Rock. I won't really be going to court, it'll be more like interviewing families without any human contact. Ms. Emerson said there will be a lot of paperwork and many other things along that line in what she thought was a hushed tone. As bad as she is a being quiet, I'm also very good at eavesdropping.

I pray that I get someone nice. This is me, though, and my luck got run over by a bus and two trains a long time ago. Is that too dramatic? To be honest, eveything about writing in this journal is dramatic. I guess I'll have to limit the theatrics where I can. (I don't think this is going to get very far.)

I wish I can just leave already. I know I say this a lot, that it's basically all I talk about, but nothing much happens here. In West Rock, everything is rutined. You get up, take your meds, go to breakfast, shower, and then wait around for therapy appointments if there is one scheduled. If you're lucky, you have a few hours in the telly/games room on top of the hour you get in the courtyard. Those are the best days.

It's that day today, actually, and I don't want the other wards to see what I'm writing in here, so I'm going to put you down now. Maybe I should start referring to the wards as inpatients or kids. I'll give it a shot. I still don't know to end these entries. I think I'm going to sign my name at the end. Is that cheesy? Oh, who cares. No one can judge me on my thoughts if I don't share them.

From,
Harry.

Louis closes the small black book and wipes at his eyes, blinking hard. He tucks the diary underneath his mattress and then stands up, grabbing his hair and pacing around the room.

“What am I supposed to do now?” he mutters to himself.

How did things get so complicated? It's Louis' main thought. He's going to be graduating high school, going to college. Everything has gone by so quickly. He's not a kid anymore, and it scares him. He has his and Harry's future to think about now. Future. It's so close, yet months away.

Louis doesn't even know what his future is. What kind of job he's going to have, where he's going to live. Fact is, he really doesn't know how to plan for the future. He doesn't want to be married, but he wants kids, that's all he knows. Stability is another thing he wants. A constant is all Louis really needs. He really hopes that person will be Harry.

A/N: This is so much later than I wanted. It's also way shorter. I just got so busy with family and my dad surprised my Nannie for her last day with us by taking us out to some dinner and show type thing. I'm working for the next to weeks, but I have tomorrow off because it's Canada day (Yay for Canadians!), so I'm going to try and update this again. My camp name is Kettle-corn and I feel so dumb, but I signed up for this so I guess I have to be full of spirit and motivate some kids. Such fun. I'm going to wrap this up by saying I pierced my nose so I was so full of Advil that I was too tired to concentrate on writing the past four days and that Alyssa is actually a very important character. Anyway, I'm going to end this note now because it's one in the morning and I'm so exhausted. I hope you all ar having/had a great sleep! xxx