a/n i feel extremely guilty about everything right now and i just want someone to say it's not my fault, when I know it is.
enjoy.
Dan.
my mum did the same thing as she always does, comes in, gives me breakfast from the canteen, and then leaves again.
she knows that's the way i prefer to do things.
i hate people. there's no other way for me to describe what's going on in my head. that's why my mum gets me breakfast each morning, if i went to the canteen, people would try to talk to me.
she left me alone to eat it. but i heard her voice a couple minutes later; strained and high pitched, risen, not like she talks usually.
i finish my slice of unappetising toast and set the plate down.
i can still hear her.
why hasn't she left yet?
has something happened?
i heard the door click, my mum walked in followed by a tall man in a white coat.
i flinched back against the wall when he made eye contact with me.
i was starting to shake. i didn't like this. at all.
"dan-"
my mums voice was shaky and uneven.
something's gone wrong.
"-there's no easy way for me to say this but, you're being transferred to a different institution, far away."
my heart stopped beating.
my lungs stopped working.
my brain was completely crashing.
im being transferred.
far away.
new.
people.
my hands threw themselves off my lap and over my face. this can't be happening.
"we're transporting you to the london institution-" the man in the white coat spoke for the first time. his voice was deep, raspy, low.
i didn't trust him.
i looked with pleading eyes over to my mum. she looked on the brink of tears.
"this means-" she spoke, her voice breaking "-i'll only be able to visit you once or twice a year. it's too far away dan. i...we, can't afford it. im sorry."
a tear left her eye and cascaded down her cheek.
i wasn't happy.
i wasn't sad.
i was numb.
i had no feelings left. my mum had been the one that kept me slightly sane, and managed to salvage what was left of the old me, before this happened, and i got stuck in a mental institution because i tried to not live anymore.
i sometimes regret doing that.
i sometimes want to try again.
"daniel, i hope you realise we aren't doing this just to take you away from your mum. you need help, that we cannot provide, your case has been unchanged and nothing has improved the whole time you have been here. they can do more than we can."
i could feel myself getting ready to explode.
"dan- p-please say something." my mother was sobbing now.
"mrs howell, i think it would be best if you left right now, you can see daniel again before he leaves" the man spoke with defiance and power.
my mother looked at me for confirmation. i looked away and focused on the crack in the wallpaper where i was looking.
she sighed and left the room, still crying.
"now daniel, we need a response so we can inform the london branch what state they should prepare for."
my brain was processing everything that just left his mouth.
response.
who does he think i am? an object? a brain dead person?
state
what's it to him? what's it to them?
prepare for
for fucks sake this isnt like preparation before a bombing or something.
i'd had enough.
"get out." i said quietly, my hands shaking.
he slowly got up
"your flight leaves tomorrow daniel." were the final words he spoke.
explosion.
"GET. OUT." i screamed.
he walked out of the door and locked it behind him.
i sat up and raked my hands through my hair. i had to do something, to get all this out; something. i ran to the bathroom, locked the door and opened the cabinet. i took the razor i had hidden right at the back of it.
you fucking deserve this dan.
i flinched at each cut.
you made your mum cry.
ouch.
you're so fucking crazy you've had to be moved away from her.
ouch.
all. your. fault.
ouch.
she was your best friend.
ouch.
your only friend.
i set the red razor down. i hadn't cut in over a year. what the fuck have i done.
i ran the cold tap over my wrist. i thought i could wash it away.
you hurt her.
my arm seemed to hurt more now then my heart did before. tears welled up in my eyes as the clear water from the tap rushed crimson down the drain. i promised i wouldn't do this. i broke that promise.
"well maybe if you weren't so fucked up dan, and you didn't wreck everything; you'd be somewhere else right now."
i spoke out loud to myself.
"but you're not, you're here, moving away from the only person that ever stuck by you. and you won't see her more than twice this year. you fucked up dan. as always."
i walked slowly back into my room, and grabbed the plate to take it down to the canteen, my mum usually did that. but no way was i asking her to now.
i got two steps from the door; those last two steps involved me thinking of how everyone would react in the canteen.
i stopped.
you wouldn't have to go down there. if that man hadn't come in to tell you that you were being moved away.
it's his fault your mum isn't here.
it's all his fault.
seems like i couldn't find someone to blame for all of it.
anger built up inside me. i reached shakily for the door handle. then found myself screaming incoherent words that i couldn't understand, next thing i knew my hand clutching the plate was raised, and was brought down with full force; smashing it into pieces on the floor.
i walked backwards until i hit the wall, and slid down it, breaking into the most painful sob of my life. i couldn't breathe. i couldn't think. i lay down on the floor amongst the ceramic shrapnel of the smashed plate.
it was broken.
like me.
