Love Kills

Feeling, Feelings

"George Wilson White?" A man in his thirties was standing in front of George, holding a sheet of paper and a pen in his hands.

"I have some people I would like you to meet," he smiles.

"My apologies sir, but I better go back home now," George whispered, his eyes flickering around the room nervously. The man's smile faded and his confidence faded with it.

"I'm afraid that will be difficult," he finally said.

"It's my sister, Annie, sir. She... she needs me."

"Your sister is in good hands."

George was confused. What was going on and why could he not go home to his sister? It was time to change her nappy and she needed dinner. He had bought spaghetti, since Annie loved it so much. She would always make a huge mess slurping up the pasta, but her laugh alway made it worth it.

"Where is Annie?" George looked around the room, searching for an exit. Where was he? How had he gotten here?

"We found a foster family for Annie. They will take great care of her."

George inhaled sharply while letting that sink in.

"How... erm..." He licked his dry lips.

"How long have I been here?" The man raised his left eyebrow a centimeter.

"You mean you don't remember?"

"What about the spaghetti? She... I was gonna make spaghetti." The man looked nervously at some papers he was holding in his hands.

"I don't understand," he muttered.

"You came on a Wednesday so," he swallowed as he looked at George.

"You have been here for almost three weeks." George swallowed hard, his gaze focused on the floor. His head was working in high gear, searching for an explanation, a solution, anything, but his head was cloudy and it felt as if the room was spinning.

"Erm... George, have you ever considered seeking a therapist?" George had to get to Annie, he just had to. If he could get away from this man, and this room, maybe he could find her. If only he knew where she lived!

"Well, regardless..." The man seemed to have lost track completely at this stage.

"As I said, there are some people I'd like you to meet. We have found some potential foster parents for you."

Four white walls. A dirty kind of white.

A window without curtains.

A bed with blue sheets.

A brown, wooden desk.

A white, wooden chair.

A nightstand with a lamp on it.

A tall, black closet.

A carpet in several shades of blue.

A bookshelf with four books in it.

George could have walked into a spaceship and it wouldn't have felt stranger than walking into this room. He felt misplaced as if he was supposed to leave this room as soon as possible and then the room would look right again. Not knowing where to put himself he awkwardly walked into the middle of the room and looked at the floor.

"I know this is all very new for you, but I know you will settle in just fine," He said.

"We'll give you some time to unpack, supper will be ready in about an hour," She said.

"You must be starving, after all the institutionalized food you've gotten," He said.

He chuckled.