MidKnight: The Asylum [FINISHED]

Chapter 2: Brian

The next morning, he woke up to loud, electronic buzzing and hollering from the guards. Apparently, according to the others outside his cell, it was time for breakfast, or as it was called in this place, Mornin' Chow.
    He departed from his cell and joined the line of other "inmates" (since this felt too much like a prison, he would refer to things like that.) He headed down to the mess hall. He was waddling in line behind a very skinny, tall caucasian male. He had short black hair, no specific style, just messy, and enormous glasses--these spectacles were so big would be menacing to Harry Potter.
    Tapping the man's shoulder could've been a bad play, that is, if this was an asylum for patients with certain psychological disorders, all sorts of triggers, but Harold went through with it. The man turned, looking at Harold over a shoulder. "Does that loud thing go off every morning?" Harold asked, trying to start conversation. He nodded, sorrow on his face. "Sucks." the man replied.
"I can tell and I just got here."
"What for?"
"Arson. You?"
"Killed a guy."
"Oh, shouldn't you be at a prison?"
"Yeah, if it were my fault and if that one attorney didn't flip the case completely. Some dude was pulling a prank on me, wearing a Halloween's store mask and cloak while I was cutting vegetables in my kitchen. He snuck up behind me and screamed at the top of his lungs. Knife in-hand, I got scared and jabbed, before realizing the jab was at his heart."
"Dang. How'd he get into your house?" Harold was genuinely intrigued.
"Roommate." he replied.
"Oh, shit."
"Yeah. I'm good now, though. It was 5 years ago. Basically, the attorney claimed I'd hallucinated before and had delusions after I told him my roommate had done this before at the stand. Got me here."
"The jury believed that?"
"No, but they figured any who jabs the knife at something behind them, before looking to see what it was, was a threat to society."
"That's seriously screwed up."
"I know it." He finished off. They were down to the mess hall at this point, and joined the food line. "I'm Brian, by the way." He said, grabbing a blue tray.
"I'm Harold."
"Well, Harold, I don't usually talk with the others here. They're all too shifty and psychotic. You seem to be normal." Brian told him, moving down the line, food being slopped onto his plate.
"Well, so do you. Is there really no one else normal here?" Harold asked him, taking a tray of his own. Brian shook his head. "Not that I'm aware of. Every person I've met is either aggressive or just a loon. Sometimes it's a combination of both." He looked at Harold with a stern face, then asked, "you're not crazy, are you?" Harold replied with a shrug, "Unless you're the government, no, I'm not crazy."
"Good. Why were you sent here, though? I mean, if you're not crazy. You said you're an arsonist?"
"I don't know if I truly hold that title. I've only started 2. Does that make me one?"
"I don't know. Either way, why here?"
"Still trying to piece that part together." Harold was done with the lying, he was going to try and gain his assistance and trust. He was going to need help.
    "Um, feel like sharing with the rest of the class?" Brian asked. Harold then told him the truth. He told him about MidKnight, his death and last night. He told him his name wasn't Harold and about how he doesn't belong here. Brian thought for a moment and led him to a table where they both sat.
    "You're serious?" Brian asked him. "Because it sounds like you are crazy. Especially that part about the hood. And it doesn't look like you have multiple personalities." Harold hoped this wasn't a major mistake telling him this, he didn't need anything else going downhill. "No," he began, "I am crazy, but not the kind you see here. And along with the other hundred questions I have, why I can't switch between my personalities is also in the fog. I need your help, though. I need to find out who brought me here and how I can get out. If you want to escape, you need to trust me." Brian paused in silence again to process everything and then spoke. "Alright," he told him, "any ideas of where to start?"
"Not a clue."
The two finished breakfast and then they were lined back up and headed back to their cells. Luckily, Brian's was right next to Harold's.
    Harold decided to catch some z's before he had to get up and do anything else. He laid down on his bed, luckily, unlike prison, this was an actual mattress, not some uncomfortable steel table with a pillow type thing. He closed his eyes and drifted off.