Crimson Mists

19. Mental Lounges.

Chikamharida's POV.

I always knew the universe to be a psycho. It always harms the good ones and leaves the bad ones. Praise and Cynthia were good examples. Praise being in danger was what ached me the most, and she had to need my help at a time when I was countries away from her. I could bet she didn't even know that I was such a distance away from her.

To take my mind away from her, Henry drove me to Maypsych. Its building stood as tall as ever, the leaves of the trees on each side of it whistling with the wind. He turned off the car, and alerted me so that we both walked out. Like a couple, he led me in to the reception where we didn't waste time to attain our visitor's badge. Then we walked the dull hallway till we were at her room. He entered first.

"Hello sis," he said to which she gave us both a blank stare while sketching. She was dressed in blue overalls this time, which still didn't hide her figure.

"Can you come pick me later, Henry?"

"She doesn't—"

"Like three hours, I just need the silence," I interrupted to which he nodded.

Once the door was shut, Hilda's head snapped up. "He likes you."

My head swerved towards her. "What?"

I thought she didn't speak? What was going on?

I took in a deep breath, concluding that she was was speaking to me because we were alone, and cause I was calm.

I had to be calm.

And it was easy. All I had to do was remember the look she gave me the last time.

"I'm not interested in your mean eye today lady," I said, going to sit beside her on the bed.

If keeping my calm would get her to keep speaking, then so be it. After all I needed answers of mine.

"I know you make for a silent companion and my other location has turned to a point of ambush that's why I decided to come see you." I broke the silence when she refused to do a thing another than sit and stare at me knowingly, before switching to her art.

"He likes you," she repeated, in the act of sketching. Her lines were light, feather strokes and it took me a while to realize that she was making floral prints.

"So?" I asked.

"I'll kill you if you hurt him."

I raised my brow at that. Her herself paused but I wasn't surprised.

Everything in my life was just turning out to be a wonder. From a stream to a waterfall. I needed to convince her if I wanted her to answer my question.

"I can't hurt him because he doesn't love me," I said and it seemed like the truth. Henry didn't love me, he was just trying to help me, to make me great.

"It's either you're lying to yourself or you're just using him."

The way she said it was nonchalant but she knew what she was doing. She was trying to get a rise out of me. I wasn't sure it would work but I could sense the signs. My breath had hitched, my toes were tapping against each other.

She was good, I had to give her that.

"At least I'm lying to myself and not my own brother," I said, staring pointedly at her. She stopped mid-sketch, raised her head and stared at me. Her choice of style didn't have hair covering her face so I could see the contours of her ire.

"See, whatever you're called and whatever you're trying to be. I'm not that young, so I'd ask you to quit whatever tricks you're trying to play."

"Alright," I said, also sitting up and crossing my feet. "What I'm saying is that you haven't been insane all this while. Your English is too proficient for someone in such a state."