Four White Walls

Chapter Two: Beauville Mental Institution

Breathing is important. I seem to keep forgetting that. I let go of the air I didn’t know I was holding—again—and clasped on tightly to the forest green backpack that was sitting in my lap. I glanced out the window and took note that we were almost to the ocean. Beauville Mental Institution was two miles North from the ocean. My brown eyes darted around the car nervously. I whimpered pathetically.

“Honey, I know you’re freaking out,” my mother said sympathetically. “But thank you so much for agreeing to come. You know I didn’t want to go to drastic measures to get you out of the house.”

Drastic measures? What did she mean by drastic measures? I imagined all the wonderful things she could mean by drastic measures and shuddered. “How many more minutes?” I asked for the forth time in a half an hour. I normally wasn’t so persistent, but I just wanted to get to the mansion and pretend I was on vacation already. Once the car arrived, then I could start my treatment and get it over with.

Mother sighed, “Any minute we should be turning hitting the exit to—there it is!”

“The Institution?”

“No, the exit!” she swerved her car and almost hit a red minivan. The driver honked and flipped her off. “Oops.”

“Nice one, Mom.”

“Well, Malakai, we can’t miss this exit. You need to get better,” she said as she looked at the map in her lap. “The Beauville Mental Institution should be the next mansion-looking thing on your right.”

I gazed out the window and waited for the mansion-looking building to come into view. When it didn’t come into view right away, I started to get nervous. I began to count in fours.

One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.

Finally, I saw it. It was a light brown. Some could call it homey. I considered it more like an old scab. I cringed as the car rolled closer and finally came to a stop. I took out my silver comb and started brushing my hair in fours.

One, two, three, four. One, two, three, four.

“Mal, will you please stop that…?” she sighed and got out of the car.

I watched her walk into the belly of the mansion and placed my comb in my backpack. This is harder for me than it was for her. Did she understand that? If she didn’t, she should. I sucked in four deep breaths before exiting the car cautiously. I closed the door gently and counted my steps as I walked towards the institution, shivering as I did so. It was the beginning of summer, but there was a chill of wind from the ocean. I glanced towards the Pacific and half-smiled. At least the view wasn’t too bad.

As soon as I entered the building a help desk stared at me. A girl with glasses about an inch thick typed information methodically into her computer. She looked up momentarily at my mother and I before looking back at her screen.

“May I help you?” she asked in a monotone voice.

My mother cleared her voice, “I am Mrs. Summers I called on behalf of Malakai Summers. I’m his mother.”

She beamed at me and I blushed. She didn’t mean to embarrass me, but come on! I was eighteen. She didn’t need to be gushing about me. Sure, she only looked over, but the “Mommy beam” was always embarrassing if you were over thirteen. I begged and pleaded in my head for the lady to hand my mother paperwork and for it to be only a few sentences.

“Oh, yes Mrs. Summers, I remember your urgent phone call, but since Malakai is eighteen, he needs to fill out the paperwork on his own,” she said and handed me a stack of papers instead of my mother.