Seeker

Breakout Buddy

"What do you see?"

"I see fire."

"Where?"

"Street signs, people, buildings. They are all on fire. The monsters. The monsters are the same. Some people's faces just turn into them. Everywhere. I see it everywhere."

"Only some people's faces turn into monsters?"

I smirk, "Believe it or not doctor, not everyone's a monster."

He sighs, "Do you think you belong in this hospital?"

"Yes." No.

"Do you believe you are getting better?"

"Yes." No.

"This next question, I want you to answer in all honesty Miss Frington." He studies me and asks, "Are you okay?"

"Yes. I'm okay." No, you're dying inside.

And that folks, is my life...
In a single conversation.
Lies, lies and of course, more and more endless lies.

...

I'm trapped in a room, but it's more like a white pillow. They call it a psychiatric hospital, but I think The Looney Bin is a more festive name for it. I'm not sure why I prefer the more festive name, because in all honesty, the place lacked even a teaspoon of festivity. White, White, White. If I ever say I wouldn't kill for a one-second look at the explosion of colors a sunset consists of, I'd be lying. I've been here for three weeks and even though the purpose of this place is to make me sane, it's doing the exact opposite. I am proud to say I finally understand why the patients in the movies are so crazy.. because they're put in a place where they're taught that it's the only thing they are.

I hear a buzz and refuse to flinch as the 'pillow's' door opens.

"Hello Miss Frington."

"I've told you million times Cass, call me May." I roll my hazel eyes in annoyance.

"I've told you a million times Miss Frington, that's against protocol."

"Yes, and I've politely responded a million times with only spies have protocol. So unless I'm Jane Bond, I think you have some things to fix."

He smirks, sets up a tray of bread and soup for me, and places it in front of my crisscrossed legs along with a little cup of pills. Apparently it's also 'protocol' to watch the patient eat their entire meal to make sure they don't kill themselves with the plastic spoons (I assume).

"So, how's life Cass?"

"Fine, Miss Frington."

I roll my eyes, "You old people and your formal talk."

"I'm not formal because I'm old, I'm formal because-"

"-It's protocol. Yeah, yeah. But, ya know, at this time of the day I'd really love for someone to break the rules and screw protocol so I can have a decent conversation with a fellow human being.. you are a human being, right Cass?" I ask in attempt to irritate him even more. I'm actually surprised he hasn't exploded these past three weeks from the bomb of my annoyingness.

"Please just eat, Miss Frington." He says, a little fakely annoyed (I know fakely isn't a word but bare with me here, I'm a big believer in the making up of words).

"It's like you people think I'll forget my last name or something. You really don't need to say it every time you talk to me." I drag the words 'every time' just for emphasis.