losing sleep » h.s.

fourteen

"You didn't have to drive me home all week," I said and threw my bag and crutches on the side in the hallway to my house.

"You still have your crutches with you," Harry protested. He sat down at the stool by the kitchen isle, while I lightly limped around to the fridge.

"I barely need them anymore," I shrugged from the fridge. I decided to take an apple from the fruit bowl.

"Where is your family?" He asked.

"The twins are at football practice, my mother is looking at wedding locations with her client and my father is still in Moscow," I said, sitting down next to him.

He nodded and smiled lightly. "Are you still coming to the party tonight?"

"Of course!" I laughed. "A swollen foot is not going to stop me from getting wasted tonight."

"I just don't want you repeat the last mistake," he grinned, obviously referring to the last night at Hellcliff.

"I'm pretty sure I have learned my lesson," I rolled my eyes at the thought of how stupid I was.

"It was quite funny, though," he laughed.

I playfully pushed him away, while I stole his yellow snapback and put it on my head.

"But did you find out more about the notebook?"

"Wait," I said, getting my bag. I pulled out my other notebook I used for interpreting. "I tried, but I am not sure if I got it right."

I placed my notebook between us to show him what I wrote.

"The first sentence was They got me, but I am not insane, so I wrote it down. Most likely, this means that the patient was put there against their will and then I tried to figure who put the patient there by tying it up to all the other stuff that's written like It wasn't my fault. They think I am insane. Why did they do this to me? I think someone close like their friends and family put her there," I explained.

"Her?" He asked.

"Yes, I think it was a female if I look at the handwriting. It's too neat to be a male."

He just nodded and continued to read.

"I started to think of what the patient could have done to be admitted into Hellcliff between the years 1917 to 1974. Hellcliff was originally built to treat the wounded soldiers after the First World War. It wasn't normal for females to fight outside and at that time it was just a hospital, which doesn't add up with the patient since she was admitted for being insane of some sort," I babbled on.

He looked carefully over what was written before speaking up. "It doesn't sound like she was fighting in the Second World War either."

"Exactly! I think she was admitted after they changed into Saint Mary's Mental Hospital. They changed in 1946 after the Second World War to treat the mentally ill soldiers, but later opened up for all mentally ill people."

"So she must have been admitted in the years between 1946 and 1974 when the asylum was shut down?" He asked.

"Yes!" I said a little to excited. This was the most exciting thing that had happened to me in ages.

"Eager, Sherlock?" He mocked me.

"Oh, shut up! You're enjoying it just as much as I am."

"Yeah, but it's so funny to see how your eyes light up whenever you talk about this."

I rolled my eyes at his comment once again.

The sound of the door opened and there was my mother, running in her blazer and slight baby bump. "I forgot my planner!" She yelled from her room.