Wildflowers and Tattoos (The Crow: Bill Skarsgard)

Chapter 3

𓅩Erik𓅩

"Erik, would you like to share how you feel?"

My stomach has been twisted tight in a knot all day. It's unpleasant but I can do nothing to ease the ache. For once I didn't have any nightmares when I attempted to go back to sleep, and actually got a decent few hours of sleep. The absence of the girl in my dreams was enough to set me on edge. As odd as it might sound I'm worried, my nightmares are constant and a night without them is never good.

"Erik, do you have anything to say about the feeling of loss?"

And that girl this morning, the new one, she made my nerves go haywire. Hearing her ear splitting screams was enough to make me jittery on top of the decent sleep I got, not a good mix. It was horrifying hearing her scream and scream and scream until she passed out. I've never heard a more terrifying sound than the raw desperation in her voice.

I half expected her to throw herself over the railing that lines the floor outside of our row of doors. Guards had swarmed her the instant she started shrieking. One of the female guards was trying to coax her to calm down but it didn't work, that shit never works. Whatever got that girl so worked up was obviously something that could have been solved by allowing her to go back into her room. She hadn't made a sound at all last night, leading me to believe the cause of her banshee-like actions was outside of her room.

"Erik, are you going to participate?"

If there weren't so many guards around her, I would have tried to help. The instant she was out of her room my attention was drawn to her, and the moment she panicked I felt worry mangle my stomach. I could have helped her, I wanted to help her, but there's no way they would have let me take her into her room.

"Erik!"

I don't understand why she's at the forefront of my thoughts. Her tiny body walks through my mind as if she already owns me. For God's sake it's been one day and I don't even know her name. Still, she has a vice grip on my thoughts and doesn't seem to have an interest in letting go anytime soon.

I wish I knew where she was, so that I could just see her and pray that would be enough for my brain to stop thinking about her... her dark brown hair chopped at her shoulders, almost as if she did it herself with a pocket knife; her fists clenched so tightly at her sides that I'd be surprised if there wasn't blood pooling inside of her curled fingers; her downcast head, hair curtaining her face as if hiding her from the rest of the world; and her–

Fuck!

I lift my eyes from their blank stare at the ground in front of me. Most of the participants of this group therapy session are making their way out of the room. As I begin to follow them, the therapist for this session, shit if I know his name, stops me.

I glance down at him, disinterest clearly painted on my thin lipped scowl.

"Erik, I understand you don't particularly like it here, but if you have any prayer of leaving you might want to start participating." The man fiddles with the bottom of his gray knitted vest when I don't deign to give him a response.

When he makes no further insinuation to comment anything else I leave the room without issue. Outside of the quiet group therapy room, is the bustle of an entire small population of addicts; drugs, alcohol, pain... sex, yeah some of the people in here are weird as fuck. More than once has a commotion broken out due to a pair, sometimes even more, being caught in the act. There is a strict 'no sex' policy here, which is why it's frowned upon for the males and females to be mixed together, in therapy sessions and especially in private. Ironically enough no one seems worried about same sex relationships, even though that's what makes up a majority of the exploited sexual activities.