Gerard's P.O.V
I sat in my room.
Alone.
My room wasn't actually mine; it was more like the state's room. My mother was sick of me and my "depressive thoughts," so she brought me into this hell-hole called "Garden View Behavioral Facility." Sounds lovely, right?
Wrong.
All the so-called therapists do is sit there and talk about how you aren't trying. If anything, they put you down more than they help. Zavlin, my therapist, is one of the worst. Since I came here with no exact problem that they could detect or diagnosis, they stuck me with him. "Try harder!" he would press. I would simply state that I didn't know my problem. Was it something that only I couldn't see? Was I the joke of it all??
I got up from my mattress and headed to the bathroom to get away from my thoughts. Since the people of Garden View did not- and still haven't- figured out my exact problem, they couldn't do anything to modify a room for me. They had FINALLY decided to just give me a staff room: two mattresses with a half-wall in the middle and a bathroom with a shower, sink, mirror, and toilet.
Looking in the mirror, I examined my appearance. Dark, brown eyes slowly flickered on my face as my lips twitched into a small frown. My jet-black hair hung into my eyes perfectly, but I just didn't look right. My eyes were too small, and my nose was too big. My smile leaned more to the left instead of evenly like most people's did. I quickly turned on the faucet, splashing cold water onto my face. My stomach growled hungrily, but I ignored it for now.
"Maybe later..." I murmured to myself. Of course, the staff believed we shouldn't have to "worry" about the time for lunch or anything at all. Why would we worry? It's time. Time is human-made. Who would worry about time?
Then again, I always caught myself racing the clock when I lived at my house. I couldn't help being human. Right?
A knock at the door. Another. They were abrupt knocks, indicating that it was Bruno. He was the one who could make sure everyone did what they had to on time since clocks were oh-so-horrible. Why was he here earlier than he seemed he should be?
I looked away from the mirror both to dry my face in a towel and hide from my reflection. I tried to prolong my walk to the door, but it wasn't all too possible considering it was only around seven feet away. Nothing was worth going any faster than crawling pace at this place. I opened the door to see more than just Bruno.
Okay, maybe someone was worth running to in here.
Bruno stood all six feet tall with a boy that was below Bruno's shoulders. He had short-cut brown hair and a small lip piercing that he was currently gnawing on. His shirt held colorful drawings, and right in the middle said "BRING ME THE HORIZON" in big, scraggly letters. What was this band-loving, short, semi-attractive (wait what) boy doing with Bruno here?
Connect the dots, Gerard! My subconscious mind screamed.
Oh.
"Gerard, Frank here was brought by his father. He has.. well, problems, OBVIOUSLY, but we cannot necessarily pinpoint them for employees." He gave me a look. Guess I had a new room-mate.
Frank had been looking down with a faint frown on his face. It was evident that he know the situation: he was stuck in a facility that would shove pills down his throat and burn lies of 'It'll be okay' into his skull while rooming with a psycho teen.
Of course he would have a frown.
Bruno coughed to break the small moment's silence. "Oh, and lunch is in five minutes, so head there soon and PLEASE Gerard, don't scare him."
