Twisted Twine

Crisp air

It was a winter's morning and everything was quiet. A gush of wind flew over Manchester and the crisp clean soak of the mist hummed passed the trees. As the wind sprinted across the air a man with crutches hopped over to the bus stop. He had scruffy brown hair and ocean blue eyes. His eyes were tired but he looked fit and ready for the day shown by his clothing and expression on his mouth. He went into the bus after a ping of noise from the pass scanner. He sat down and watched from the window as the road disappeared around him as the bus drove. The sound of people blabbering floated in the atmosphere as he just sat there quiet as a mouse and as stiff as a board. He wondered in his mind about how his therapy session would go that day thinking that it might go well this time, he just hoped that he didn't get given shit this time like the last time he was there.

As the bus parked its way into its stop he got up and hopped off of the bus. He got to the door of a huge building with designs from the Victorian era. He looked at the cracks in the perfectly carved stone as he waited for the door to open. It opened up with an automatic system and he moved inside. He sat down in the waiting room hoping that his doctor would ask him to come in straight away. He hated being unoccupied for over at least a minute. He loved to do complex activities to keep him from thinking of dark and horrific thoughts. He had suicidal thoughts and tendencies which is why his ankles were broken. He fell down the stairs on purpose because he found out his mother killed herself from being abused by her husband, his stepfather. He just wanted everything to go back to normal and not have a crap idea of a life. He just wanted to be normal.