Weeping Angels

Part XIII: Speaking Of Horrors Of Days Gone By.

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AUTHOR’S NOTE: Please be warned, In addition to being longer than usual, this chapter includes graphic violence, mature language, and disturbing scenes. Read forward with at your own discretion.

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Kettu’s hospital room was more like a prison cell. The walls were painted an awful shade of grey, the bed sheets were an off-coloured white, and it was impossibly cold and quiet. He would have wondered how Ben had talked him into it, but he had a constant reminder lodged deep in his heart. He sighed, lying back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. It felt like he’d been here for days, but the lighted blue numbers on the digital clock mounted to the wall told him that it had only been overnight.

And he hadn’t slept at all.

His mind swirled with panic, anxiety, and worst of all, questions. How long would he have to be here? How long would it take until he felt like he could go on with or without Nina? He sighed to himself and closed his eyes.

“Kettu Kinson?” A voice cut through the silence, and Kettu groggily sat up. He blinked tiredly.

I must’ve fallen asleep. Kettu thought to himself and focused his eyes. In front of him stood a middle-aged woman in a white coat. Her red hair was tied up behind her head in a ponytail, and a pair of thick-framed glasses were perched precariously at the end of her nose.

“That’s me.” Kettu said hoarsely. His throat was dry.

“Can we talk?” The woman asked as she brought up a clipboard.

“It’s why I’m here.” He raised his eyebrows and yawned.

“My name is Doctor Carey Windsor, and I’m a clinical psychologist here at Second Chances, do you know what we do here?” She asked, her tone was soft, undoubtedly something that she had been trained to perfect.

“You stop hopeless romantics from blowing their brains out?” Kettu shrugged.

“That’s one way of putting it.” Doctor Windsor offered a forced smile. “What we do is try to work on things, by talking, rehabilitation, and medication if need be.”

“I’d like to avoid meds, if possible.”

“We will certainly try, Mister Kinson.” Doctor Windsor said as she scratched some notes down on her notepad, “So, can you tell me a little bit about why you are here?”

“That’s a long story.” Kettu sighed.

“I’ve got time.”

“Well,” Kettu took a deep breath, “Since I turned seventeen, when I left home to live with my uncle, I’ve lived for the most part in a melancholy state of mind, and recently, I’ve attempted suicide twice because, well, it just felt like there’s no escape from the endless cycle of the mundane, menial nuances of life itself.”

“You said since you left home at seventeen, can I ask why you left home so early?” Doctor Windsor asked, pressing her ball point pen to her chin thoughtfully.

“That’s a touchy subject.” Kettu said, wringing his hands together.

“Mister Kinson,” Doctor Windsor said with an impatient tone, “To fully understand why you’ve become such a threat to yourself, we need to understand you as a whole, not just as some kind of pseudo-philosopher. So, Back to when you left home, what drove you away?”

Kettu pressed his lips together tightly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He didn’t want to remember the horrors of what happened back on the farm, that was just too much for him to bring back up. He clenched his jaw and took a breath, cursing Ben for bringing him here, for signing the commission papers that landed him here. He hated this.