Psych Ward (Peterick)

Chapter 12

Joe's POV:

Pete came back after a while and we played some more guitar. Eventually it was time for diner and Pete asked me if I was ready to eat with the rest of the other patients. He told me he would stay with me and that eased me so I told him I was ready.

We went to the dining area and I looked for a place to sit. There was a guy with bright red hair sitting alone at a table for four. So I walked towards him. He seemed interesting. Not so boring as the rest of the patients. Me and Pete arrived at the table and Pete said hello to him and the guy smiled back.

'Uh, can I sit with you' I asked unsure.

'Uh yeah sure' he smiled and we sat down.

We introduced ourselfs and I learned his name was Gerard. I also got to know Pete is also his nurse. We talked and talked. We talked about art and music and I really had a good time. Eventually Pete had to leave and we were left alone together at our table. We talked some more and I learned that he's an artist.

'C-can I see your work?' He didnt react at first but eventually he nodded.

We stood up and he led me to his room. His room was covered in art. His desk was covered with tools to draw and paint and I was in awe.

'Did you make all these' I directed to the art pieces on the wall.

He nodded shyly.

'These are fucking beautifull man!'

'Oh, uh thank you' he was shocked about my compliment.

'I mean it' I saw a painting of a french bulldog. It looked like the french bulldog I had before I got this bad.

'You like that one' Gerard asked.

'Yeah, it looks like the dog I had once' I smiled.

'You can have it, these white walls are so boring' he giggled.

He walked towards the painting and took it of the wall and handed it to me.

'You sure man?' He nodded.

We talked some more before I left. I got into my room and I hung up the painting above my desk. I sat down on my chair and I saw that the acoustic guitar sat in the corner of my room. I got it and sat back down again. I closed my eyes and started playing away.

I heard a soft knock on my door and I told them to come in. The door open slowly and this small person came through it. At first I got a bit scared. Because of all the stories I heard of him and what I saw that night.

'Hi, uh, I-i heard y-you playing a-and I w-was wondering if I, if I c-could stay here for a bit, it eases m-me' he stuttered.

'Sure, thats okay'.

'I'm P-patrick' he introduced himself.

'I'm Joe, pleased to finally meet you man!, take a seat, somewhere where you like?'

I expected him to sit on my bed or something. But he sat against the wall his knees drawn up to his chest.

'C-can y-you maybe p-play that song you p-played yesterday?' He asked.

I knew which song he meant. The song where he stood watching us. So I played it for him. I saw this small smile creeping up onto his face and it did me good. Maybe this kid wasn't as bad as everyone made him out to be.

I finished the song and I looked up and saw he was asleep. I placed my guitar down and walked over to him and picked him up bridal style. Carefull not to wake him up. I walked over to his room and entered. I layed him down on his bed and covered him up.

From that moment on I decided not to believe what everyone said. They said he was a terrible person, mean, violent, a murderer and more. But what I just saw was nothing like that. He was just a kid. A troubled kid.