MADNESS

3. Ham Sandwitch

SYDNEY WILSON

My house smells like vanilla, which is an incredible smell after working in an asylum full of all sorts of diffrent smells. Not all were enjoyable.

As soon as I enter the house I throw myself on the sofa in the living room. I needed this, today was a stressful day. My programme was the same whatsoever, but talking to Noah was mentally draining.

And the fact that today was just his first day in there is making my hair go gray.

"You home, Syd?" I hear my brother.

I find it a stress relief to talk to him, to Luke. He's the nicest brother one could've got over a late marriage. Our parents got married in June last year, 6 years after my father passed away from lung cancer, and since then, we've managed to get along really well. Sometimes I even forget he's not my blood brother, he's one of those people you feel like you've known all your life because he gets comfortable easily. He even looks a lot like me- brunette, brown eyes, few freckles here and there. I can't really see my family without him, not that I'd want to.

It's also a good thing he's around my age. I feel like we understand each other better. Also he's funny as fuck sometimes and honestly, being an only child is boring without someone like him around.

"Ey" I respond shortly. Not a real word, but it's solid, does the job.

He comes downstairs.

"Why are you dead on the sofa?" He says when he sees me.

"Because-" I stand up to look at him. "I'm exhausted." I explain, then throw myself right back on the sofa.

"Why?" He asks.

"Why not?" I raise a brow sarcastically.

"Come on, what is it?" He insists.

I scoff.

"Okay so." I stand up again to sit down like a normal person. "Do you know Night Shadow?"

"Heard of him. Why?" He locks eyes with me.

"Yeah, well they caught him a couple of days ago."

"I thought nobody would catch that guy, he had been hiding very well for so long. Genuinely saw a typical American documentary coming out about how they never caught him, some Jack the Ripper shit." He jokes, making me smile.

Noah was really hard to find. More than one year to catch a serial killer usually means he's skilled at what he's doing. Hiding when all the state's police is haunting you must be some sort of skill, because how many of us can do that? Living outside of the real world, avoiding shops, avoiding parks, streets, bars, all the things that we can't really live without, is something not all of us can do.

But I guess that's what you deserve for murdering people.

Catching him shocked the world. He's still all over the news, even after days of being inprisoned and then put into an asylum for the criminally insane, which was not as shocking as it was just simply unexpected. I felt some sort of relief when he was finally caught, because the thought of such a ruthless serial killer roaming the streets of our city made me anxious at times. The thought that he could be anywhere, even in my own basement, was an insane thought.

"I know, I was shocked too when I saw him." I go back to talking. Luke frowns at my answer.

"How have you seen him in person?" He questions.

"Guess what? He's actually insane." I announce. "He's a patient in Vendable now and unfortunately I have to take care of him. He's a moron, he's making my life harder." I audibly make an "argh" sound and once again, fall back on the sofa. It's too comfortable not to.

"Wait, I thought he was going to get the death penalty?"

"If he wasn't insane, but apparently he is."

"Oh. Interesting." He responds.

I stand up to look for the TV remote that's always so hard to find in this room, but luckily I quickly spot it on the table and grab it.

I turn on the TV to relax.

"More about how the infamous Night Shadow was found by the cops right in his house. The weapon which he used to-"

I turn off the TV.

"Fantastic." I say in disappointment. Someone please get this guy out of my TV.

Isn't it enough that I have to talk to him tomorrow? And the day after that? And the days after those two?

Luke laughs at my reaction.

"What's so funny, dumbass?" I fire back sarcastically.

He doesn't answer, but walks into the kitchen to grab a snack.

Only for himself probably.

"Bring me food too!" I shout.

"What do you want?"  He asks.

"Cheerios."

"No. Eat real food." He argues.

"But I'm not that hungry."

"Well, you're not healthy either if your dinner is a bowl of Cheerios every night." He comments.

"Sometimes I feel like you're in med school just to say shit like this and piss me off with stuff that I obviously already know. I choose to ignore it."

"Whatever." He says and hands me a plate with a ham sandwich on it to which I smile.

"Your favorite ham." He smiles.

"I would normally tell you ti fuck iff, but I do love this ham a lot so I'll let this slide." I take a huge bite. "Fank fiew." I talk with my mouth full, to which he laughs.