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louis walked in the unfamiliar territory of this place, two people on each side beside him. his ocean eyes were wide as they raked over the white walls, the chairs that were neatly on a circle on the side room and a piano. his bare feet were cold on the hard floor and his clothes were changed from jeans and shirt to a pale blue-- almost white gown. his feathery hair was a disarray and his fingers were fidgeting.
"louis? this is your room." the lady said, her old eyes stern and pinched together at the guy. he nodded his head.
"okay." he snatched his small pouch of materials from the guy on the other side. he glared. when louis was twisting the knob, a voice screamed at him.
"you're the one on this room! HA! you're gonna die! DIE!" the woman screamed and laughed in front of his face as he gasped back and fell on the floor, whimpering. she kept yelling and screaming until many people came and dragged her away.
"soon, you die... dead!" was the last thing he heard before he was taken inside the room with the nice lady beside him.
as soon as louis stepped in, a sudden warmth wrapped around his body and he felt a squeeze on his heart. like, an actual squeeze and he had to cough a few times to gain his breathe back. he feverishly shook his head.
"i'm so sorry." he heard the lady say. he looked at her tag on her chest-- it read agnes.
"for what?" louis innocently asked, eyes squinting. agnes sighed.
"for letting you step in this room." she said and patted him on the shoulder. he wanted to ask why but he felt something on his throat, as if something was stuck in there, blocking him from saying anything. he blinked a couple of times and opened his voice, trying to speak but nothing came out.
he wanted to know how long he's going to stay here, he wanted to know why he was staying here in the first place. but he couldn't because as soon as agnes was out the door, he felt his throat relax and he felt a ghostly touch on his back.
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made a whole new acc for larry? hELL YEAH
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faded » l.s
Hayran Kurgulouis is a patient in the mental asylum of alabama. the second night that he spends on the sacred bed of room 413, a ghostly voice rises up and greets another one of his coming victims. -- larry stylinson
