"Prisoner" - Bastille/Dan Smith Fanfiction

Solitude

Sunday, 1st November 2009

My dearest brother Dan,

I'm so happy for you and can't wait to hold you in my arms again on Monday. You didn't have to ask me if you could stay with me for some time, the answer would be no other than yes. I will pick you up on Monday, so don't worry about how to get home. You won't believe it but I'm literally crying while writing this cause I'm so incredibly proud and happy, since a part of my life is going to come back to me. We have to catch up on so much that we've missed within these four years of separation. Love you so much and see u on Monday! <3

Kisses & hugs

Brooklyn

I kept reading these few lines a hundred times while weeping. This letter from Brooklyn meant so much to me and after so many things went out of control last night this was another light of hope. I feel so incredibly uncomfortable being in my room alone with no one to talk to. I slightly feel my disease coming back, my second personality tries to reveal itself but I keep fighting against it. I keep talking to myself: "I'm getting out of here on Monday and you won't get in my way!" I spend my day lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling and trying to think about nothing. I try to keep my head as empty as possible. Due to that terrible incident yesterday the safety precautions have been intensified and no patient is allowed to see each other, rooms with two patients have been dissolved and food and drink is brought to the rooms. In short, any contact between the patient is prevented. "Such things must not happen again", the director said. "No more celebrations in here, we have to treat them like lions that cause trouble when you let them out of their cages." I was pretty shocked when he said it and I was sure I couldn't take to be treated like this. I've just found a new friend, my disease was nearly completely gone and now everything seems to be destroyed because of one incident. One part of me is the feeling of pure anger, I'm incredibly mad at Alex but on the other hand you can't blame a sick person who doesn't know what he's doing. Those are occasions you have to expect at an institution. Once I battered my pillow so hard and screamed on top of my voice that guardsmen took me to Dr. Farquarson who should take a look at me. "Dan, I've heard you slightly went on the rampage inside your room. Why? Are you okay?"

I sat on this familiar chair with folded arms and clenched my teeth. "What do you mean by: are you okay? I am not allowed to see my friend, how could I be okay?" Will's face expressed pure seriousness. "Dan, you're almost out of here, you're mended. Do you really want to destroy this by being conspicuous and going on the rampage? If your disease comes back, if you're having an attack again I can't let you go. You know that. I can still change my mind about whether to let you go or keep you." Excellent, that really made me feel better. I rolled my eyes. "Do you want to help me or blame me?", I asked. The psychiatrist didn't respond. He just gave me a sign to leave his room.