American Saint (H.S)

A.S. 10: Cruel Findings

American Saint: 10

"A plot evolves from her curiosity, he is only along for the ride."

-

"We have class today," I tell her.

"What do you mean class? Gensa asks. "Class," I say again, pointing the obvious of the conversation.

Why would I say something if it has no meaning?

"What are they going to teach us? To feel remorse?" She laughs awkwardly.

Stubborn imbecile. "Exactly that." I pick up her notebook and walk to the exit of the white room. She follows.

"So?" She disputes. Grabbing back her sketched notepad.

We take our seats and I intensely feel a pain in my back. The room is not full. Someone is missing. I look around the projected light of the classroom to confirm my doubts and I am standing precisely with my unwanted assumptions. "Someone is missing."

"Huh." Gensa ponders her voice to my reasoning.

I look around again, confirming one more time that indeed one of us is not seated. And they are not. He is missing. Thomas is missing.

"Thomas." I stand up, my height providing better vision.

"Who is Thomas?" She asks. I ignore.

"Thomas?" I say loudly in question. No one answers. The rest of the younger kids follow in the hallway as I move away their bodies from mine.

"Where is Thomas?" I ask one of his younger friends. He shrugs. "He was called in sick this morning, the nurse took him. He was not in his room all afternoon." The small looking child says picking at his nails.

Some prick ass bumps into me as I am leaving the doorway. His child looking body stops me, his hand reaching up to my shoulder. His blue eyes not looking as blue as they do. "Where do you think you are going right now? The session is starting." He says, demanding an answer. I push his obnoxious self off, his hand moving against his chest. "Mind your business."

"You are my business." He responds quickly, gathering himself from the plastered wall.

I turn around as the words leave his mouth, bumping into his unfamiliar looking expression. "Then where the fuck is Thomas? Took him to play hide-and-seek?"

Louis smirks, the distasteful and repellent demeanor frustrates me. "I asked you a fucking question you perv. Answer."

"I do not know who you are talking about," He shakes his head, biting his lip. I grab him by the throat. His face turns, his nostrils flare. "Where. Is. He?" I tighten the hold.

"Oh my god Harold, stop." I hear the most dreadful sound of voice following with a hand grabbing away my own from the dickheads neck. "What the hell?" Her eyes are wild, looking from Louis' to my own.

"Goodbye, Louis." She waves him off, his eyes pin on me before exiting. "What is the matter with the both of you?"

I want to grab her by the throat just to shut her the fuck up. Why is she everywhere? Ugh! "I hate him."

"Hate is a mixture of love. You can not hate someone without loving them. So I will ask again. What the heck?" She mixes.

"Shut up Gensa, you do not know shit. Leave me alone." I give her a dirty look. She gives one back.

Gensa's Thoughts:

I eat my dinner alone, watching Harold sit by himself across the hall. He has not spoken to me since after what happened. He eats alone, shoving the spoon into his mouth ever so often. He finishes his plate quickly, discards of it and walks to the bookshelf. I watch him as he watches the randomly displayed books thrown on the wooden interior of the boxed material. He finally makes a selection and seats himself down. His fingers ring around the edge of the plastic cover as his eyes scatter to understand the words.