Fear Asylum

Snow in New Jersey Can Only Be a Bad Thing (Ch. 6)

I pulled open my bag and found my phone. I played "Heaven Help Us", and Graham smiled. I looked at the time; it was 9:38.

"Hey Graham, you wanna get something to eat?" I asked, after hearing the breakfast call. He shook his head and continued drawing. "How 'bout some coffee?" I smirked when his head whipped up. "I saw a Starbucks on my way here. I'm gonna get a latte. You want one?"

"If you wouldn't mind." He said. I smiled. I couldn't help but let the sympathy flow through my body. It fell across my face, transforming my features into a perfect model of that sympathy. My eyes relaxed as I realized how badly he was being treated. My smile softened when I thought about how many years he had stayed here. My eyebrows scrunched forward together at the thought of him being found guilty in his case. At this sight, Graham lowered his head, and continued his sketching and his lilting smile was replaced with a solemn frown. I sighed to myself and grabbed my keys and purse.

The bell's sweet sound rang through my ears as I stepped into the Starbucks. The aroma of pumpkin spice, peppermint, mocha, and caramel infiltrated my nose, overpowering my senses. I ordered two lattes in the daze of coffee scents. I carried both drinks out of the store and cursed when icy white flakes fell and stuck themselves in my hair. "New Jersey. It always snows here." I grumbled to myself. Don't get me wrong; I love the snow. I just hate driving in it and shoveling it. I held the tray of coffee in one hand, and pulled the door open with another. I stuffed the key into the ignition and turned. As the car warmed up, I placed the lattes in the cup holders. I rubbed my freezing hands together in a failed attempt at warmth. I put the car in reverse and backed out of the parking spot. The wipers ran across the windshield fast, trying to brush the snow off. I squinted my eyes against the snow, as it rapidly grew from flaky cold flurries to hard ice pellets.

I arrived at the doors of Watergate that were almost iced shut. I pounded on the doors and Nancy stood up from her desk to open the door for me.

"We had to lock the doors. The electricity just went down, and we've had to go to manual locks." She explained and then stared at the lattes that we're in my hand.

"Oh, these. I'm gonna be here a while and I could really use a good latte or two." I lied quickly thinking of the rule against giving things to patients. That rule usually applied to most of the institutes, but I remember one that didn't have it. It was by far the only one with happy patients. Nancy nodded and I bounded back up to Graham 's room.

"Hey Graham!" I called out. His room was slightly darker, but not enough to be really noticed. He looked up and I handed him him his drink. "Whatcha drawing?" I asked as he took a sip from his drink. He blushed as he clutched the sketchbook close to his chest and shook his head. "Oh, come on. Please? For me?" I tried.

But he stayed resilient, smiling that sweet smile of his, and shaking his head looking at the tiles on the floor that matched frozen island that laid just outside of the building. "Fine." I pouted while sulking on his bed. He laughed and continued to draw. I looked at the window and the sight astonished me.

The white of the land blinded me when I realized it had leveled the parking lot. I couldn't even pick out my own car. The were all covered in tight packing snow from roof to tires. There was no one outside let alone any cars on the road. I guess the bad weather stopped everyone from driving. Wait a second. How long will I be stuck here? "Graham?" I asked.

He looked at me as his fiery red hair fell messily across his face. He looked up at it and shook his head back and forth wildly whipping his hair side to side like a dog. But he only made it worse, forcing me to laugh. "Looks great, man." I joked, still laughing. His hands went to his hair one more time, and he shook his hands, messing his hair up again, just not as badly this time. "Ha, Gray, does it usually snow this much?" He nodded. "How long do you think it'll take for the snow to clear up?" He got up and stared at the snow.

"I dunno." He shrugged. "Maybe a day or two. Sometimes there's a guy to shovel it. Most of 'em can't get here 'cuz of the bad roads when it snows." I nodded my head as he continued telepathically. "They just say that." He said touching up his drawing. I sat there drinking my latte and looking around the room. "They don't like it here."

"Why not?" I asked.

"This place gives them the creeps." He thought without looking at me. "I know it gives you the creeps." I resisted the urge to look at him since he didn't look at me. "I can see it in your eyes. I knew you were scared of it the second I saw you. Don't worry; it scared me, too. And it still does." He answered saying the last sentence more softly, to himself.

"Well, I have to admit, this place did frighten me when I got here. It's so old. I just couldn't understand how you stand it."

"We only see the inside, but I remember the day they brought me here; it was a warm day, actually. I was enjoying the ride, thinking about how lucky I was to not be going to jail. 'Cuz, well, you know what they do to guys like me in prison, right?"

"Ba dum tss." I thought.

"It's good to know that someone gets my jokes. Anyway, that's when it hit me. Why was I being sent to Watergate Mental Rehabilitation? I had supposedly killed my family, so why was I being sent there? Even mass murderers go to prison, so why wasn't I? Not that I was complaining; like I said, I considered myself lucky.

"And didn't complain. Until I got here. One look at the building was enough to make me turn away. I remember the driver's thoughts, too: 'Poor guy. Not even a guy who killed his mom and little bro deserve to be here.' They ignored my yelling and pleading about not being left here, and brought me in anyway. I punched one guy, and next I woke up in a straight jacket sitting in a chair. When Caulfield came into the room I was in, I just stared at the ground. He went through this stupid speech about my new life here. After that the orderlies led me to my room, ripped off my jacket, and shoved me into the room.

"The next day I met my lawyer and asked him why I was sent here. He told me that by pleading insanity, I was taking about 10 years off a prison sentence. I've been here for four years, which means I have about 6 left." He sighed. I didn't know how to respond to that. How would I? I was just told about how a man was wrongly accused for being a murderer, and was now wasting his perfectly sane life in a insane asylum. Ten years. That's enough time to make him actually go insane. He was standing at the window now, looking outside. I could tell he really wanted to be any where but here. I walked up to him, and without thinking, I hugged him. He was surprised at first, but after a second or two, he relaxed and hugged me back.

"I'm so sorry, Gray." I whispered. He didn't say anything, but i felt hot tears fall on my face. I couldn't help it. I cried, too. I just know that Gray doesn't belong here. He just doesn't.