Patting down your uniform, you remove it of the creases which formed when the guard grabbed you. Once you've calmed yourself a bit, only then do you enter the cafeteria. You notice many pairs of eyes trailing you, causing a feeling of discomfort. You've never liked having ahold of more than 2 people's attention, so having several makes you queasy.
"Hiya," you joyfully greet Norman's table, giving a small wave. You politely seat yourself next to him, giving him a smile. You check the clock ahead of you on the wall. 5:54am. Wow, this feels early. Never in your life have you had to wake up and start your morning this early.
"How do you like it here?" asks Brahms from across the table. Through his mask you make eye contact. You find his mask to be a little strange, but ignore it when you know what kind of person the one wearing the mask is.
"It's really nice," you respond, keeping it simple.
More questions continue being asked of you from around the table (some more personal than others). You try your best to answer each of them with the same kindness and consideration, all while keeping professional.
As you're attempting to create a friendship with the two twins (Bubba and Thomas), you feel something watching you. Every now and then you peek a glance around you, and it doesn't take long for you to realize it's Michael. He's at one of the farther tables, all by himself. It surprises you, considering him and Jason are so similar in ways. You'd expect the two to at least sit in silence together.... nope!
"I'm going to be right back," you softly say, your voice fading off as you get up. The others don't get any time to disagree since you're already approaching Michael's table. His eyes still don't seem to draw away from you.
As you sit down in front of Michael, you notice others drawing their gazes towards the two of you.
Staring at Michael, you can see the bruises and cuts beginning to heal. Still though, they appear bad. His plain white outfit (which all of the patients share) still has reminisce of blood around the cuffs of his shirt, mixed with a dried paste from his paper-mache.
"How are you doing?" you ask carefully, not wanting to upset him in any sort. Michael only stares, his hair messily draping over most of his face. In his file it was said that he lost his mask before being taken away. That's a good reason for why he makes those masks.
"Are your injuries healing up?" No response. You think for a moment about how this'll work.
Suddenly, an idea sparks in your mind.
You pull out a notepad from your side pocket, as well as a pen. You begin to scribble the words, Yes and No. Placing the notepad in front of Michael, you feel slight victory overcoming you. He can't avoid answering if there's options.
"So," you begin. "Are your injuries healing up?" He doesn't move at first, which makes you almost sigh in defeat. But then, his hand shifts slightly. Before you realize it, he's pointing to Yes. A smile grows on your face, and Michael sees this.
"Okay. Do you believe that the patients should have less isolation time?" You try to seem more hesitant with your words, but fail at masking your odd excitement to have a conversation with Michael.
As you continue to ask Michael questions, you recieve more silent answers than not, so it's a start for you. In your mind, you contemplate what happened yesterday. With the dead guard, Michael, him shoving you. Despite the small bruise on your hip, you felt that Michael had never intended to hurt you; it seemed as if he simply just wanted you out of the way. Another time I might be able to ask him about it, and potentially recieve a reply... verbally.
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𝘚𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘰𝘳 | 𝘚𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳
Fanfiction"She was their savior." After getting laid off from her job, Y/n is forced to go job hunting. Once she finally does find a job at a nearby asylum, she's hired almost immediately. Although Y/n believes this to be an amazing opportunity, she begins to...
