Map of Your Head

Chapter 2: Blue

Dom's POV

I'm woken up when someone enters the rooms and turns on the light.

"Oh don't be that guy who just sleeps all day," he says, sitting down on the bed opposite of mine. "Get up and I'll start introducing some people to you." I sit up and look at the guy who I'm assuming is my roommate, Morgan. "So I've been informed that your name is Dominic, but I don't really see the point in getting to know you since I'll be out of here tomorrow." I just shrug and swing my legs out of bed. Morgan stands up and motions for me to follow him out of the room.

"Personally, I think the only two decent people here are Chris and Tom," Morgan says, just sort of rambling on. "Everyone else is hard to deal with." We stop in a room that's sort of like a sitting area. A few couches, chairs, and a bookshelf. Minimalistic like the rest of the hospital. "Guys this is Dominic," Morgan calls out and two guys turn to look at us.

"Actually, I just go by Dom," I mutter, as Morgan leads me to a chair and motions for me to sit down before leaving. The two guys introduce themselves as Tom and Chris which I was kind of expecting. They're all actually pretty cool and I guess you could that I'm lucky for meeting these guys. They'll make my stay here much more enjoyable.

"So Dom do you play anything?" Chris asks, resting his elbows on this knees.

"You mean like instruments?" I ask. He nods in response. "I've been drumming for a few years."

"They have a music room here," Tom adds. "I think it's open today, but I'm not sure."

"Let's go check!" Chris says, standing up and starting down the hall. Tom and I almost have to run to catch up. He opens a black door and steps inside what is probably the best room in this entire fucking building. "It's only open twice a week and they never tell us the days," Chris mutters as he picks up a bass guitar. There aren't too many instruments in here. 7 guitars (5 of which are acoustic), three bass guitars, a piano, and a drum set. Nothing is overly fancy, but it's still glorious. I sit down behind the drum set and grab a pair of sticks. Chris has hooked up to a small practice amp and is playing a riff that seems familiar and Tom is messing around on an acoustic. I just softly tap out a few rhythms on the snare. I can see myself in here every moment possible; trying out different fills and maybe even writing songs. 

I hear the door open again, but I only look up in time to see a small flash of blue and the door closing. "Must'ave been Matthew," I hear Tom murmur. 

"Who?" I ask, setting the drum sticks down of the floor tom. 

"Matthew," Chris says, leaning to his side and switching off the amp. "Know one really knows how long he's been here. Or anything about him for that matter."

"Why's that?" I ask again. Chris and Tom are probably getting a little tired of all of my questions.

"He doesn't speak," Tom answers, putting his guitar back on the stand. "Something called selective mutism. It has to do with anxiety. He's usually okay with being in the same room as me and Chris, but since you're new..." He trails off and I can easily fill in the blanks. "By the way you never told us what you're in here for."

"To be fair, I don't know what's up with you two," I say, leaning forward and resting my forearms on the mounted toms.

"I have anorexia," Tom says without hesitation. "Chris here gets a little too angry a little too easily, and Morgan has extremely high functioning OCD. Now spill."

"Um," I stammer, not feeling entirely comfortable with this crowd yet. "I'm suicidal."

"Ah," Chris mutters, standing up and putting the bass guitar away before changing the subject. "Well tea starts soon. Meals are mandatory unless you'd prefer to have them through a tube." He turns and glares at Tom who just laughs.

I can see myself becoming decent friends with these guys.