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The Experts Mental Institute was situated near a lake in a private property. The leaves were beginning to yellow. This area was clean and polished considering it was an institute for the mentally disturbed.
The building was perfectly painted a warm beige color with its name written in black across the front entrance. It was fairly big, standing at three stories high. Brown curtains covered glass windows.
Weston had told me this was one of the two Expert Mental Institutes in Michigan. We were lucky it was only a forty-five minute drive from Huntstown. Weston also informed me that these institutes were in private places and all werewolf doctors here did have a degree.
Weston and I stared at the building for a few minutes longer before I muttered, “Are you ready?”
“Nope. I was never ready. You dragged me here,” Weston said, turning back to face my Land Rover. “Why don’t we go back home? Warren’s probably sleeping. I don’t want to disturb him.”
“No, we’re doing this and if we have to stay here for a whole night for you to finally go inside, then we will.”
Weston groaned, stuffing his hands in his leather jacket. “Why are you so stubborn?”
“I’ve always been stubborn,” I smirked, pulling my knit beanie over my head. “I’m here, Weston. I’ll help you.”
While Weston stared at the building again with fear, I slipped my hand into his warm one. I didn’t miss the tingles that ignited in every cell of my body. “Come on, you could do this,” I smiled up at him.
We started walking towards the entrance and I was pretty sure Weston hand was starting to sweat. I couldn’t blame him. I was scared and nervous to see the person who tried to kill us.
The double doors slid open and the lady at the front desk smiled warmly at us. Her black hair was pulled up into a bun and her brown eyes calculated us. “Hello,” she called out.
“Hi,” I said when Weston didn’t say anything. “We’re looking for Warren Greene.”
“Mr. Greene has a lot of friends,” the woman said with enthusiasm while digging in a drawer. She pulled out a clipboard and a pen. “Please just sign in here and before you leave, you must sign out.”
I nodded, signing my name in and practically forcing Weston to sign his name. After we signed in, the lady instructed us to go to the second floor, turn right, and find room number two hundred six. I muttered a thank you and dragged Weston along with me.
“I don’t think I could do this,” Weston said, pacing inside the elevator while tugging at his black hair.
“Weston, calm down,” I said, grabbing his hand and walking onto the second floor. The white linoleum floors were shiny under the fluorescent light. There was the smell of werewolf everywhere mixed in with a slight trace of vanilla. The doors were a dark mahogany, numbers painted on the wood.
He was breathing hard and I had to stop to look at him. “Look, I’m nervous too,” I said slowly. It was true. My heart was pounding against my rib cage and the memories of him flashed through my head. I forced the vile images out of my head. Warren was better now. I just knew it.
“So, why are you doing this?” Weston whisper yelled. “Let’s just go.”
“Give your best friend a chance,” I said, comfortingly. He still looked unconvinced, so I tugged his hand in front of Warren’s door.
I could hear the television on a football game. My heart was pounding and I tightened my hold on Weston’s hand. Weston stood close behind me and I could feel his nervousness. I jumped slightly when I heard a familiar male cheer for his team – a voice I haven’t heard in months.
“We could do this,” I said, glancing over my shoulder to look at Weston. He looked down, before nodding slowly.
I twisted the knob, opening the door slowly and tugging Weston behind me. Warren was in his bed, which was pushed to one side of the room. A lamp was on a nightstand right next to bed. Under the window was a desk with a few notebooks and pencils. A dresser and a closet was side by side. To the immediate right of us was the door leading to the bathroom.
We walked in a little bit for Warren to see us. When his brown eyes met ours, it widened into saucers. His mouth opened to say something, but nothing came out. His posture stiffened and there a million apologies written in his brown orbs.
“Hey, Warren,” I said, smiling when nobody said anything. I gave him a small wave.
“I’m dreaming,” he said, running his hand in his brown hair before pinching himself.
“No, you’re not,” I laughed.
After a couple of minutes of staring at us, Warren hung his head and started crying. His shoulders moved up and down and he tried to muffle his sobs down. He looked up at us with tear-filled eyes. “You guys don’t realize how much I’m so sorry,” he said. “I’m so, immensely, truly sorry for what I did. There are no excuses for my bad behavior. It was wrong and I don’t expect you guys to forgive me, but I’m sorry.”
I smiled widely at him, my own tears rolling down my cheeks. I looked up to see Weston with a serious expression, staring at Warren. He still hasn’t said anything.
“Gosh, I’m such a pussy,” Warren said, rubbing furiously at his tears. I laughed lightly at him. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done that to you, Danny. I really shouldn’t. I’m not going to try to make up excuses because that would just make me feel so much worse. Weston, I’m so sorry too. I’m sorry I turned my back on the one person who has been there for me this whole time. I’m sorry I had such negative thoughts on my best friend. I just lost more when I did what I did.”
“No, I’m sorry,” Weston said for the first time, before giving him a small smile. “I should’ve done more to help you. I’m also sorry that it took me so long to come visit you.”
“I didn’t expect you to come. I thought you guys hated me,” Warren said, standing up from his bed.
“We don’t hate you,” I said, before flinging my arms around Warren. I suddenly felt bad for him with everything that Weston told me yesterday. “We just want to help.”
Warren cried into my hair a little longer before mumbling apologies repeatedly. I patted his back, telling him it was okay. When we parted, I smiled widely when Weston and Warren did the man hug thing, patting each other’s back hard.
“Man, I’ve missed you,” Warren said when he stood in front of us.
“Hey,” Weston said, slapping Warren on the back. “I’ve got to ask you a serious question though.”
“What is it?” Warren asked. “Anything. I’ll try to answer to the best of my abilities.”
“Do you know anything about the hunters that are trying to attack us?” Weston said, looking seriously at Warren. Warren’s eyes showed it all. Confusion. “Don’t lie to us, Warren. If you do, you will be sentence to death for planning a second attack on werewolves.”
“Weston,” I gasped, looking at him sternly.
“No, it’s okay, Danny,” Warren smiled, before turning to look at Weston. “I really don’t know what’s going on. The only person I’ve ever talked to about attacking people was Danny’s dad. There’s an attack?”
“Okay, don’t worry about that,” I told him, pushing him towards his bed.
“Are you lying?” Weston said, ignoring my glares. He crossed his arms over his chest.
“Wes, I know it’s hard to trust me with everything that happened. It’s understandable. I’m telling the truth when I say I don’t know what is going on. I swear to God.”
After a few more questioning from an unconvinced Weston, I interrupted. “So, how are you?” I asked.
Weston took a seat on a chair near the bed while I sat on Warren’s bed. Weston leaned forward, concerned over his friend’s health.
“Good,” Warren said enthusiastically. “They’ve put me on some medications to drain out those herbs and I feel like a new man. Stacey and I are on the right track and I’m happy. I’m happy that you guys are here too.”
“That’s good,” Weston said.
“The only thing I don’t like is the assignments they let us do. It’s cheesy.”
“Painting and coloring? I saw your smiley face out in the whole. Good effort,” Weston laughed.
“You’ve always been jealous of my artistic skills, Marshall.”
I smiled when I saw the two best friends joking around. Weston slapped Warren across the head and Warren put Weston in a headlock. It was refreshing to see that they were going to be … all right. Weston wasn’t going to completely trust him and I wasn’t going to completely trust him either. By being here, we were trying to find closure on what had happened that night and we were accomplishing that task.
After a few more minutes of small talk, visiting hours for the afternoon period was over. Weston and I piled into my Land Rover, looking at the building with small smiles on our faces.
“I still don’t trust him,” Weston sighed.
“I don’t either,” I said. “But it’s a start. It was nice seeing you joke around with him.”
“Yeah, it was just like old times before he started getting depressed.”
“He’s getting better. I could see it.”
“So how did you feel going in there?” Weston asked, slouching in his seat.
“I was scared, actually. I think I was as scared as you.”
“I wasn’t scared,” Weston defended, puffing out his chest slightly.
“I had to practically drag you in the room.”
“If it were for other reasons, I wouldn’t mind going in a room with you,” Weston joked, throwing a wink my way. Although I laughed at that, I punched his chest.
“This friendship thing is getting to your head, Dot.”
“Oh, so the old nickname comes back!” Weston hollered, rolling down his window and sticking his head out. “It must be a miracle,” he yelled to the sky. “She is no longer the rampaging woman on her menopause!”
I hit him again and he laughed. “I’m kidding, Ells,” he said, smiling at me. I couldn’t help the smile that graced my face too.
It was nice talking and laughing with Weston again.
It probably wasn’t going to always be easy like this, but again, it was a start.
We just stared at each other smiling before Weston took me in his muscled arms. “Thanks, Ells,” He whispered. “I mean it.”