turned - muke - the distortion trilogy 2

0.2

MICHAEL'S P.O.V.

The shuffle of feet causes me to open my eyes.

Standing in front of my bed is a tall boy with wavy hair and dimples. He's not smiling, exactly, more like an amused smirk. It makes me nervous, I'm not going to lie.

"I'm assuming your my new roommate?" He has a thick Australian accent, much more noticeable than mine.

I nod, trying not to shake. I need to relax. I have to live with him for a few weeks, I have to breathe.

"I'm Ashton," he says. That name sounds familiar...

He sits down on the edge of his bed. Suddenly feeling self conscious, I sit up so I'm facing him.

"M-Michael," I reply, stuttering over something as simple as my own name.

"What're you in for?" Ashton asks, and I can feel the color drain from my face.

"I...um, I-"

"Wait, let me guess." I'm grateful that Ashton cut me off, because I'm not sure what I would've said.

"Ok-kay."

"Either self harm or a suicide attempt, judging by the bandages." Ashton gestures to my wrist. "And some form of anxiety, because of your stutter." He raises an eyebrow, silently asking for confirmation that I cannot provide.

I shrug. "I d-don't know, really."

You really haven't figured it out yet? God, you're even dumber than I thought.

"I am not!" I protest.

But you still don't know why you're here.

"Why haven't you told me?" I frown.

"Are you talking to me, mate?" Ashton interrupts.

I shake my head. "No, j-just my friend," I mumble, and Ashton lets out a short laugh.

"Guess we know why you're here, now, don't we?" I frown, confused as to what he meant, but he doesn't give me time to respond. "And you're probably wondering about me, right?"

Hesitantly, I nod. He doesn't seem like depression, or schizophrenia, or any other commonly known disorder I can think of.

"Anger management," he grins, and let me tell you: a smile like that doesn't look like it could ever be angry. Maybe he's a compulsive liar, too. Or a sociopath.

"Oh," I breathe out. "I would have never g-guessed."

"It's not constant," Ashton shrugs. "It's triggered by certain things, but it got so out of hand that my mum flew me all the way across the country to get treatment."

"Wow," I say.

"Yep," Ashton agrees. "So how old are you? Sixteen, seventeen?"

"S-seventeen," I say. "You?"

"Nineteen." I'm extremely jealous of his fluency with words. "Sexuality?" he smirks.

My jaw drops slightly in surprise. "I, um-"

"I'm kidding," Ashton laughs. "I'm no longer interested in younger boys, and you probably aren't even interested in boys."

"I am!" I'm quick to defend myself. "I have a, um, a boyfriend."

"Awh," Ashton coos. "What's his name?"

A smile tugs at the corner of my lips. "Luke," I say, and Ashton flinches. I frown, prepared to ask him what's wrong, but he's quick to recover.