ANATHEMA

chapter two: march to the sea

After Doctor Hoppus and my mother left, Strings laughed. That's all they did; laugh. They didn't stop when I started crying, they didn't stop when I started screaming, and they didn't stop when I fell back asleep. They appeared in my dreams; I walked around corners and there they were, laughing. I couldn't get them to go away.

When I woke up, still exhausted with no real sleep, my parents were standing at the door, whispering to each other in hushed tones. When I sat up, they turned to me and stopped speaking.

"Ophelia, dear," my mother sighed. "Doctor Hoppus says that since no physical harm was done to you, you're okay to leave." She made awkward eye contact with her husband, who looked back down to his shoes.

"Does that mean I'm-"

"You're being shipped off to the loony bin, now!" Strings exclaimed, laughing even more maniacally than before.

"Dear, don't worry, we'll be coming with you on the trip over!" my mother tried to assure me.

I wasn't listening anymore. All I could think about was how disturbing Strings' face looked when his mouth became too big for his face when he laughed.

/~/

Doctor Hoppus accompanied us to the airport. He even bought the tickets for the three of us. The woman selling the tickets gave him a weird look when he requested for only one one-way ticket.

"I hate flying," Strings whined. I almost told him that he should stay home, then, but I didn't want to embarrass my family in front of my doctor.

We shuffled into our seats, my parents forcing me into the window seat. I knew Strings would use that to their advantage.

I tried to look away whenever Strings would fly by and one of their volcanoes would sprout out of the ground wherever they touched.

Doctor Hoppus knew flying wouldn't 'sit well with me', so he gave me a pill that would let me sleep through the entire trip. He said it would be strong enough so that any of the visions I see won't be able to get to me.

So, I fell into a long, dreamless sleep.

/~/

I was shaken awake by my mother, who was sitting next to me. She looked like she had just woken up, as well.

We stepped out of the plane and was greeted by the doctor who ran Metropolitan State; Dr. DeLonge. He welcomed us to California with open arms and a wide smile. Strings scoffed when they saw him, and, quite frankly, I did, too.

It was there where I was supposed to depart from my parents. I didn't make eye contact once as they wrapped their arms around me. Strings made a noise like a cooing baby.

I broke away with them and walked with Dr. DeLonge to a waiting taxi. He tried to make conversation on the way up: 'Are you excited to meet new people?' 'I made sure to let your room have the window.' 'Do you prefer chocolate to vanilla?'. I didn't answer, but Strings responded sarcastically to all of his dumb sentences.

Soon, the taxi pulled up a giant hill with a large building sitting on top of it.

"And there it is!" Dr. DeLonge said, a bit too happily for me.

I looked up at the building with a sinking feeling in my chest.

"We're home!" Strings cheered, laughing. My hands started shaking in my lap, so I clenched them together, in hopes of their movement stopping.

When the taxi stopped outside the hospital's doors, Dr. DeLonge opened the door for me and led me to the front.

"Alright," he said. "This is your new home."

"Can't wait to see our new room," Strings laughed. I cringed.

Dr. DeLonge slid a key into the front door and was greeted by a pair of scary, burly-looking guards. They stood on either side of us as we walked, and Dr. DeLonge gave me a 'tour' of the insane asylum I was taking residence in.

He took me to the main room first.

"This is where you'll be spending most of your time," the doctor said, gesturing to the different 'stations'. "Over there, you can do all your creative arts-n-crafts. Over here, you can watch your programs or your operas or whatever you're into. Over there, there's a wall full of books of different genres, to keep your mind intact." He kept pointing at different places for me to entertain myself. But I stopped listening and looked at the people instead.

At the arts-n-crafts table, a woman who looked twice my age was gluing silver stars to pink contruction paper. It would have been cute, if the stars weren't surrounding the word, 'D E A T H' written in child-like, Crayon drawl.

Sitting in front of the TV was a man who looked a step away from death was rocking back and forth, transfixed to the screen. From time to time, he would cackle, sounding like an old wizard from scary movies. When I looked to see what he was watching, all I could see was static. Strings sat next to this man and laughed along with him.

When my eyes drifted to the makeshift library in the farthest corner, they stuck on the boy sitting in one of the two chairs.

He was curled up, his feet in the chair. He seemed squished in on himself, but comfortable enough. He had a book open in front of him, and, from time to time, he would jot something down in the notebook next to him.

When he felt eyes on him, he looked up and made eye contact with me. I quickly looked back down to my feet, kicking myself at getting caught.

"Miss Jones?" the doctor called to me. "Are you there?"

"O-Oh, yes, sorry," I muttered. "Please, keep going."

He led me out of the room, but, just before I went through the door, I looked for the boy again. When I found him again, I saw that he was already looking at me.