A short while later, I'm lying down in my room, Chuck in his bed, me in mine. We get on nicely, he's mature for his age. But it makes me sad when I see kids like that. Nobody should have to grow up that fast, its not fair that he has to have this. He's about the age I was when this started. Theres a life he's missing out on because of this, all of us are.
"So anyway, you'll make friends here. I was nervous my first day. But you have me, and I'll tell you who to avoid and who's cool. Like my best friend, you'll like him. He's about your age. And theres a couple of other people you'll get along with. We're as normal as you'll find here. We actually call ourselves the Normals, but they're gonna have to judge you for themselves," Chuck explains.
Judge me? I wasn't aware you get judged in a mental institution. My mind drifts back to the boy I saw in the hallway earlier. I wonder if he's crazy or or a 'Normal'. I'm crazy, but my minds not gone. Not yet, anyway.
"Oh, okay," I say, unsure of what else to say. If you've never spoken to someone that you just met in a mental institution, it's kind of like walking on a tightrope. You never know whats offensive or too far or what will trigger them. So I just try to say as little as possible. He seems very laid back, so I think offending him would be near impossible. But still, I don't know what triggers him.
Chuck turns to face me. "What kind of name is Newt?" he asks.
My face goes red and I turn to face him. "Uh, I uh, my parents-" I'm cut off by Chuck's loud giggling. "What?" I ask.
"You don't have to answer that. I'm just teasing you, Newt. Its better than Gally," Chuck says.
"Gally?" I ask. Whats a Gally?
"He was named after the scientist Galileo. But everyone calls him Gally. He's truly crazy. He doesn't hang out with all of us. He hates us, really," he says.
"Thats always fun," I say.
"You're here for O.C.D. right?" Chuck asks.
"How'd you know?" I ask.
"Well the way you walk, made your bed, dusted the room, your snapping, how you rearranged everything to be straight, and incase you haven't noticed, you've been tapping your hand in tens for the past twenty minutes," Chuck says. I immediately pick up my hand and look at it, earning another laugh from Chuck. "Four more," he says. I smile sheepishly and finish the last four then clench my hand.
"Listen, O.C.D. is like a breath of fresh air around here. You'll see in about two hours or so," Chuck says.
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"You'll see. Don't worry, Newt. You'll fit in just fine," Chuck says. I want to tell him about the other things I have, but I have a feeling he knows. Or if he doesn't, he wouldn't be surprised.
"Thank you," I say, anxiously playing with my blanket.
"You're welcome. We should get to sleep, it's eleven and we have to wake up at six," Chuck says, pulling his blanket up.
"Okay. Goodnight, Chuck," I say, turning over. My nerves are still at a high, but I try breathing in and out and before I know it, I'm sleeping.
I wake up to a loud smack of something close to me. I jolt upright to see what was going on, sleep still hanging on to me, trying to tug me down.
I look across the room to see Chuck on the floor, tugging at his curly brown hair and banging into things, screaming at the top of his lungs.
Before I can react, my breath caught in my chest from shock, someone opens the door.
Not sure what to do, I watch as they calmly and swiftly close it behind themselves and sit down next to Chuck, grabbing a big object that I can't quite make out from his hands. They quickly grab his hands, with much protest from Chuck who continues to flail them around despite the restraint.
The person grabs both hands with one of their hands, and covers Chuck's mouth with the other.
"Chuck, its me. Its me. I'm here." I hear the person say. It's a boy's voice, surprisingly young. Up til now, I'd suspected it was a doctor, but maybe I'm wrong.
Chuck continues to scream into his hand but the boy keeps still, whispering into his ear until Chuck starts going limp. Meanwhile I've just been frozen, upright, afraid to move a muscle. The moon lighting up my face but not much else, I can only make out the two other boys as silhouettes.
I listen in closer to the other boy who seems to have no clue I'm even here, and what he's saying to calm the boy down. Is he a doctor? Finally I can make out two words he keeps repeating over and over while rocking Chuck.
"It's Thomas, it's Thomas, it's Thomas."