What Do You See?

17

I was enveloped with the earthy scent as I lay on the bench. Reaching my hand into a small crevice on the underside of the bench, I pulled out a little sparkly book.

As childish as it sounds, glitter was my favourite colour, and I didn't hesitate to flood my book cover with it.

Tucked into the pen holder was a little piece of treasure. A pen that was so old, the company didn't make the same refills anymore.

I shook it, my ink making skills were my improvisation.

Purple swirled onto the page as I wrote, scribing my thoughts and pretty much everything else.

Dear God,

Mum would be extremely disappointed if she figured that my faith in you had flown out the window. I suppose it comes with age and the fact that my thoughts are occupied elsewhere these days.

Where? Let's start with Ray. My days without him haven't been as quiet and somber as most novels would describe. In fact, it's been rather chaotic.

I do miss him, his aptitude, his ability to spring random but thought provoking quotes on me, his sharp-witted jokes and mostly his calming presence.

I could almost hear him laughing at me, shoulders jiggling as if I made the most hilarious joke ever. He'd probably tell me to stop wasting my time thinking of him. He'd throw a book at my feet and tell me to get emersed in someone else's life, go on their adventure and to forget about reality.

But truthfully, my days have been more dramatic than any story I've read. Maybe even more than the whole Kardashian-Jenner issue.

Theo is... I don't know actually. He's a patient of some sort, but he's one of the doctors too. That wouldn't have been so bad if he was much older. I mean, surely the doctors go insane too and need help, but he isn't old enough to have that kind of experience.

He's confusing as well. He took me on a late night spree, then to his home but then again he's probably a psycho to be here. And he has siblings here. I've never heard of a whole family being admitted together. Oh, and to add the saviourtitle to his name, he has saved me... more than once.

Dad seems to have lost all approval in him. I think he's becoming his protective self, the calm, psychometric protective dad.

I put my pen between my lips, twirling it as I sorted my thoughts.

A rustling caught my attention and then a ball rolled to a halt under the bench.

I recognised the little boy.

"Excuse me, I lost my ball."

"Oh right! It's here, under the bench."

"My name is Hardy. We'll, that's what Dora calls me. My name's actually Hannibal, but Dora says I look more like a Hardy boy."

Indeed he did. Although he was just a kid, he held the stoic build and the brooding grey eyes that I had always imagined Frank and Joe Hardy with.

"How old  are you?"

"I'm 7. But my sister Lisa is also 7. We're twins, but she's older by a few seconds."