losing sleep » h.s.

ten

"Wait, what?" I almost shouted and stood up, regretting it immediately when I felt the pain in my foot. "Ouch!"

"Oh, shit! Are you okay?"

"Yes," I lied.

"I'll help, come on let's go to the tent," he said, ready to carry me out.

"No, I'm fine," I said, sitting down again, leaning my back against the brick wall. "I wanna see the notebook!"

He sighed, decided to sit down next to me. From the looks of it, I could tell that the notebook was very old. Harry noticed it too, he barely dared to touch it and when he did, it was so delicate.

Before he got to turn to the first page, I stopped him. "Who do you think it belonged to?"

"It had to be one of the patients. It wouldn't make sense for a worker to keep a notebook inside a patients room," he said and carefully flipped to the first page.

"They got me, but I am not insane," Harry and I read out together.

The same sentence we just read out was written over the whole page, in a messy handwriting, leaving both of us curious to what happened to the person. I nudged on Harry's arm for him to continuing to flip to the next page.

It wasn't my fault. They think I am insane. Why did they do this to me?

This was so exciting in a weird way. How many times do you find a notebook of a patient from an asylum that was shut down decades ago? I wanted to analyze the book, interpret it, find out what all of this meant. I could almost feel myself twitching, wanting to start.

Harry flipped through the next pages. They were all scribbles and random word that didn't make sense at first glance. I wanted to figure out what all of them meant.

"Harry, we need to find out who this notebook belonged to!" I said.

"Hold up. How are we going to find out that?" He asked.

"I don't know. The data base or something, I'll figure something out," I said almost excited. "If we weren't stuck here for another three days, I would have started investigated."

"Calm down Sherlock," he chuckled.

Rolling my eyes at his comment, I grabbed the notebook from his hand and stood up only to crouch down in pain as I put weight on my injured foot. "Ouch," I puffed out.

"Oh shit! I forgot about your injured foot for a moment," he said immediately helping me. He pulled my arm over his shoulder, and I limped back to the tent.

"Oh my god!" I almost shouted when I took off my sock and looked at my foot.

"What happened?!" He asked worried.

"My foot is like twice the size and it's so red," I said, examined it a little closer. I did the thing most people did when they got bruises and poked it to see if it hurt and it did, very much.

"Uhh," he hesitated, his hand combed through his luscious curls. "In P.E., we learned that ice help on injuries. Which is impossible to find here."

"The water in the river is pretty cold, I guess?" I said as a suggestion.

He nodded and grabbed a little towel cloth from his bag. "I'll wet this and I'll be right back!"

I nodded in approval, watching him disappear out of the tent until the sound of his footsteps were inaudible anymore. Despite the pain I felt in my left foot, I couldn't help but smile at Harry's attempt to help me. I really appreciated having him around. He came back a couple minutes later with a cold wet towel and gently placed it on my swollen foot. The coolness of the cloth helped soothe the pain I was feeling.