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"If I would be given three wishes in this world, I'd probably wish for peace, a normal life... and lots of ice cream," I say smiling as I kick a rock on the ground.
Mike and I had been strolling around the streets for the second time. It's a slightly warmer evening than last time.
I am wearing jeans that fortunately fits me, a white v-neck shirt and a pair of sandals that Thayer and I had gotten at the garage sale two blocks from his apartment.
"How about you?" I stop on my tracks as I turn around to face Mike, "do you regret ever helping me out?"
Mike looks at me, smiling as he ruffle my hair making it all messy. I slap his hands away as he pats my shoulders tucking his hands on his pockets.
"I don't regret any second of it," he answers truthfully, "otherwise we wouldn't have this."
I give him a smile as we continue walking with the moon offering us light, as well as the streetlights on every corner.
I sigh, closing my eyes for a second before opening it again.
There's just silence. Neither of us are saying anything, but it's calming. With the sound of few cars paasing by, some people also walking around. I feel at ease.
I wish I could always feel this way.
A boy riding a bike passes by the street, with a cute puppy on the basket. The cool night air envelops me, and I wrap my arms around myself to keep me warm. The stars up in the sky are aligned beautifully, and for once, everything feels like normal.
"I'm hearing voices, again," I admitted after we stop by a bench and settled ourselves down on it.
I didn't have to look at Mike to know that he already is looking at me with a concerned expression.
"Since when?" he asks, "are you okay?"
"Since we attempted to go looking for my parents," I answer, "I guess I'm fine, but I'm scared."
"Scared about what?"
"Scared that I might still be mental. I mean," I trail off, "I mean.. right now, I don't think I'm crazy as much as I believe it myself when I was still in the sanitarium."
"You're not crazy, okay?" he says, voice convincing, "and for the record, everyone else in this world is crazy in their own way."
"But my records beg to differ," I retort, and also my flashback about pushing my sister down the stairs, but I didn't say it, I heaved out a long long sigh not looking at Mike.
"I think it's tampered," he blurts out causing me to look at his direction.
"Y-you think?" I ask, a bit of hope laced on my tone.
"Yes, I do," he replies, "maybe some of those things are true, but, don't you think having stayed there for so long, you maybe got better? For all we know you're already fine and they're just not letting you out. And plus, you being there for years isn't justifiable."
