Alone.

Chapter 1

Everyday. The same damn thing over and over. Do you know what that feels like? Do you?  Well, let me tell you... it's not very fun. It's entirely unnecessary, actually. But, what can I say? It's not like they're going to let me out anytime soon. Oh, where are my manners at. I'm Jason. Jason Bower. Age 25, living life "on the edge" as the kids would say. My life is repetitive and as you can see, I'm not a big fan at all.  

I've been at Oaks Village Mental Hospital for as long as I can remember. My parents put me in here for their own safety- they were afraid I was going to hurt them during the middle of the night. What was a 7 year old boy who loved playing with Hot Wheel cars going to do? Throw army figures at them? Well anyways, ever since then, I've lived here. It isn't all that bad at first. But as the years go by, so does all the memories and friendships you've had or could've had. I've seen people come and go in a blink of an eye. But yet, I stay here. Alone. But, it's not so bad... at least the food isn't terrible. 

"Jason! Time for your breakfast!" said one of the nurses from the hallway as she unlocked my door from the outside of the room and beamingly smiled, "Good morning, Mr. Bower! Today's a wonderful day!" she said in a high pitched, "fake" happy voice.

"What exactly is so great about it, Isabella?" I asked in an unenthusiastic voice, "this morning is just the same as all the other mornings."

The nurse frowned slightly, her emotions changed back to a happy and peppy mood, "Don't worry, Mr. Bower, today's breakfast is-"

"-pancake with sausage with a choice of oatmeal and coffee on the side. Jesus Christ, Isabella, it's Tuesday. I know the drill," I say, cutting her off and groans, walking past her and right into the cafeteria. I could tell right off the bat, that I simply ruined Isabella's happy-go-lucky day. 

I grab my usual.

Pancake, sausage, brown sugar oatmeal, a medium coffee, 4 creamers, 4 sugars, 2 napkins, and a small chocolate chip cookie. Super healthy diet, right?

A familiar voice rings from behind me, "Good morning!" the pre pubescent sound of my good, 12 year old buddy, Tyler walks up and sits with me.

"Morning, Ty, how'd you sleep last night?" I said, shoving a spoonful of oatmeal into my mouth.

"Better than last night! My monsters didn't come and visit me in my sleep!" Tyler said with a cheerful voice. 

"Well, ain't that some good news. I'm happy for you Ty," I said as I watched him pick up a glass of water and slowly drink it with a small slurping noise.

I looked around and Tyler caught my attention again, "My monster told me you've been here a while. How long?"

I think and start to count the years in my head, " Well, I've been here since I was 7 and I'm 25 now so, about 18 years of my life that I've spent in here."

Tyler's face was shocked, "Why have you been here so long?"

"Well, I don't know. I was originally put in here because my mom and step dad was worried that I'd hurt them in their sleep."

"Step dad?"

I nod, "My real dad passed away after being shot in the head four times and sixteen times in the chest and stomach over and over. He was a very bad man, he did a lot of horrible things, but for a good cause. After he passed away, I grew very shy and naïve. That's what made them worry so much and that's why I'm still here."

"What did your dad do?" Tyler asked, obviously intrigued.

"Well, my dad had an 'underground job.' During the day, he would work as a pet store clerk but during the night, he was a gunsman for the mafia."

Tyler nodded and ate his breakfast some more, his eyes filled with interest and pleading for me to continue on with the story.

"He would make close to 8 thousand a night, but my mom couldn't know about it. So he pretended that he only worked the morning and the night shift making 7.25 an hour every single day except Sundays. Whenever we really needed the money, he would go to his other bank account and pay off everything we owed."

"Did he tell her where he's getting the money from?" Tyler asked, tilting his head.

I shook my head, "To this day, my mother still thinks he always borrowed money from his mom."

We finished our food and walked the the window seat and took a seat, looking outside at how lovely it was this morning. "What else?" Tyler asked, "There has to be some reason why they didn't feel safe."

"Whenever I was 4 years old, my dad taught me how to shoot a gun properly. He always told my mom he loved hunting and wanted to take me whenever I got older. At the age of 6, he taught me everything having to do with knives and martial arts."

Tyler's head looked at his left shoulder then back at me, "my little monster says you have some kind of ability that's coming."

Ability? Yeah, right. Has this kid took his medication yet? If he has, I don't think it's working very well... but I'll bite.

"Oh, yeah?" I asked, acting intrigued, "What kind of ability does your monster say I'm going to get?"

Tyler looked back at his shoulder, he mumbled some words, waiting, and continued, like a full on mini conversation with his monster. He turned back, looked me up and down with a small squint in his eyes then continued talking with the monster. 

After moments of hearing Tyler bicker back and forth to this so called "monster" he finally looked at me with a small huff, "He didn't tell me much. Well, anything at all about it, but he did say danger over and over again."

Danger.

Danger?

Only time can tell now. I got up and went back to my room after taking my medication. Tyler's words rang throughout my head and soon, I found myself dozing off into a small slumber of a nap.