Anything To Let Go of Him

Part 2; Chapter 1

Part 2-

Chapter 1-

Charles POV-

Youre probably wondering how I managed to fake an entire life. And how I never got caught and taken away back to Whitehall for a whole two years. I didnt always have a trouty-mouth or blonde bieber hair. And Whitehall had acting and improv classes. Also, art classes, culinary classes, and a few sport clubs. The nuns at Whitehall thought it would help make us better if we had active activities instead of a piece-of-trash chess set that you see in movies and tv shows.

Whitehall is kind of like Alcatraz. But Whitehall is for the really psycho people. Alcatraz is for the sane dudes. I shouldnt bore you with the details of the things I did to get admitted in here. Everyone says start with a bang or go out with a bang, but each and everyone of my crimes banged hard and loud. There were so many and I remember every single one of them. One time I even faked my death. And Im only 19-years old.

Anyways, right now Im on a puke-green bus with checker-board bars on the windows and cages around the seats and a cage guarding the driver from the seats. Not to mention the gray, wrinkly, and dirty rubber seats I am forced to sit on. But I dont care. It makes me feel like I am back home.

I spent 4 years at Whitehall before I escaped 2 years ago. So many memories with my asylum friends: Improvising bashing their skulls in with imaginary shower nozzles, wiping the floor with them at soccer- No, I literally wiped the floor with one of them. We used one of the smaller guys as a ball because someone else doing something with the actual ball.- And many other great memories.

Whitehall Asylum For The Criminally Insane is located in Oregon. It was a hell of a long walk from there to Ohio. Am I right? Hell yes. We left Ohio a few days ago, so we should be close. We just passed a fallen tree, and I remember it from when I escaped. The tree was very thick and hollow with a hole in the stump; so I crawled through and stuffed the opening with leaves so no police would see me. I new they would be searching high and low.

When I got out of the asylum, I ran through the woods for a while until I reached a road. The tree was on the side of it in a shallow ditch. When I woke up, looked outside of a small hole it the tree with a perfect view of the road. It was day time. And by the amount of cars passing by, I guessed it was early afternoon. I waited til it was dark out and then I started my journey.

I slept during the days and traveled East at night so I had a better chance of not being seen. Im a mentally unstable criminal so there had to be an APB out on me. If youre basic and have never seen any cop show ever, that stands for All Points Bulleted.

Eventually, I made it to Lima, Ohio. I made up a decent cover story and started a new life. A fake life, technically. It was nice while it lasted.

Here I am. The bus Im on is pulling up in the rainbow driveway. I called it that when I was staying here because it looks like the shape of a rainbow. Its at the front of the main building.

I know whats going to happen next. The police officer is going unlock the gate that separates the passenger seats from the driver. Then, hell unlock my cuffs that are attatched to a bar that keeps me from leaving my seat. Im going to be rushed out and through the front doors to a room where the nuns in charge will assess me or whatever. Take fingerprints, pictures, dental records, and then Ill get my clothes. Which basically are hospital clothes. Hospital gowns and scrubs and a pair of slippers. Then, Ill be brought to my room. Well, cell. I assume its going to be the same room I had last time. Maybe it wont have the same little square opening with vertical bars going across it. Wouldnt want to make the same mistake and have another guard killed, would we?

* * *

I was right. They closed up the opening and instead made a new opening at the foot of the door with a slide door that goes up and down. The opening was no more than 5 inches tall and 1 and a half feet long. When I was brought to my room, I noticed a large, dry, dark red stain by the door in the hallway. Im taking a wild guess and saying that its Sam the security guards blood. The blood of my last victim.

I just finished changing into my asylum scrubs and now Im in the common room looking for any of my old friends. I didnt spot any of them. I saw few familiar faces. I walked over to one of them. Her name is Amanda Blake. We were pretty close to each other but were never like, besties. Word on the street was that she set ablaze a school. But no one knows if its true. Or why shes in here.

Hey, Amanda, I say friendly as I walk up behind her.

As she turned around, her face lit up. As I live and breathe! she screamed in happiness. Charles Moore! Is that really you!

In the flesh, I say.

Everyone done thought you went and got yourself killed after you escaped. There were no tragedies happening across the country so everyone just assumed the worst. No airplane hijacks. No highway blow-ups. No neighborhood arson's. how did you not go bursurk and shoot up a mall?

I had a guy on the black market get me the happy pills they give us here, I say. Do you know where the others are?

Amandas face went from happy to depressed in a split second. Oh Charlie, Im so sorry. A few months after you left, they all died.

What?! How? None of them are close to old age or disease. Well besides being really freaking psychotic.

Amanda then brought me over to an antique trashy couch and sat me down. They killed themselves, Charlie. One after the other, they all took their lives. It was like a suicide train. It was a suicide ring.

My world came crashing down. Those guys were with me through thick and thin for 4 whole years. But Im not going to dwell on it. Them, like many others in this asylum including myself, were sentenced to a lifes service in here. They finally got out of here. I should be happy for them.

Its okay, I say with a slight grin.

Really? she asks me.

Yeah.

Well thats great, Amanda says, encouraging me. I almost forgot! We got a new kid. Hes about your age. We got others, but theyre boring. Just a few that killed their parents or children and stuff. You should meet him. Maybe start a new crew. He got here a little over a year ago.

Where is he?

Amanda looked behind me at a chair across the room. In it was a boy reading a book. War and Peace, the cover read. Intimidating, I guess. He had pale skin that looked soft. He had this feature to his face that would make you think he was gay. I wasnt judging. I just noticed it about him. Over there.

Okay, I say. Ill go introduce myself. I stood up and walked across the room to where he was sitting. I wonder what hes like. Hopefully funny. Thats one thing you need if youre doomed to spend the rest of your life in a dull asylum for the countrys most insane and mentally unstable criminals: a friend with a dope-ass sense of humor. As I walked up to him, I put a grin on my face and said, Hey. Im Charles. Charles Moore. But you can call me Charlie. I hear youre new.

He looked up from his book at me. Hello, Charles. Charlie. Im Kurt. Kurt Hummel.