Pisanthraphobia (H2OVanoss and Others)

Chapter 5

Evan's eyes opened just as the worker was leaving his room. They would sedate him through the vents when they brought his food in, and he took it into account in his master plan.

As he ate, he mentally took into account all of the information he knew about this place that he was kept in.

The facility was a large apartment building, surrounded by some sort of land that was far from the main city. It was like Alcatraz in its defences; built to keep people in.

He knew there were at least ten stories, and there were only two safe ways down. The elevator had some sort of facial recognition software, which he had heard about from one of the staff radios he had 'acquired'. That left the stairs.

If he was going to get through, he would either be running down multiple flights or walking down them without being suspicious. He preferred the latter, but his chances of not getting caught were slim.

There were cameras everywhere. Microphones were hidden around the room, and he knew that people constantly walked through the hallways. He needed a computer, and he knew just how to get one.

He was given a journal somewhere during the first phase, when he didn't know what to do with himself. He was told they wouldn't touch it, and it was his to write in. Before he hadn't cared for it, but now it would serve a different purpose.

The first part of the plan was simple.

He would secure the note to Tyler, giving him the notebook under the guise that he was trying to get help for his scrambled emotions. Tyler, the amazing Tyler, would understand and play along, accidentally leaving his bag the next time he had an 'attack'.

Once he had the computer he could disable the cameras without even turning it on, giving himself a loop and a small amount of time to find his way out. He wouldn't have a long period, maybe 30 minutes, but if he did it once a day he could get his intel in around a week.

Satisfied, he set to work. Placing his empty plate in the usual spot, he slowly let his gaze go to the notebook. This had to look convincing.

He faked several minutes of thoughts and glances, and slowly moved after he felt like he had made enough of an impression. The cameras seemed to leer at him, and he could practically sense the cold eyes of the watchers following him.

He moved to the desk and grabbed the notebook, sliding down to lean against it as he flipped through the blank pages. He spent some time meandering through, memorizing the feel of the paper, the salvation, under his calloused fingers.

Suddenly he flung the book across the room, flinching. Then he went back to his bed and pretended to sleep the rest of the day away, ignoring dinner when it came. He would have to find away around the airborne sedatives too...

For a few days he repeated this, going to and from the desk like a physical mantra that he couldn't live without. What he assumed was about a week later, he wrote. Skipping the first page, he began writing useless things along the pages.

He made this a daily routine, and while keeping up his 'fits' he finished the set up. On the day he decided he was ready, he wrote his note.

Tyler, I need you to calm down and act like this is some depressing poetry or rant. I've been faking this whole time. I've lost the publics favor, but I need to get out of here. I need you to bring me my computer. Bring it in a bag the next time you get called in, and leave it behind. Expect an email from me the next day. You are truly my best friend, thanks for everything. Soon, everything will be okay again.

Evan closed the notebook for the final time with an internal sigh, his mind racing and yet completely still. All he needed now was a few days, and he was patient. In only a little bit of time, his world will go back to before, before he had met Luke, or Jonathan, before things had become an illusion.

A tear ran down his cheek as he lay once again in the bed, the mattress soft and consuming. He didn't bother to wipe his face; it had been a long time since he had felt enough to cry. It was just a small nudge toward normality.

The notebook lay on the floor by the coffee table, the black surface reflective despite the darkness of the room. It was symbolic, in a way, of how Evan himself felt. But Evan wasn't making this sweet analogy.

Falling asleep facing the wall, Evan was unaware of the state of the notebook. It was another, someone who specialized in watching, and someone who had been watching for a long time.

The figure smiled, poetry writing itself like music in his head, his solemn humming unheard to anyone but himself.

You see, Evan...he thought, You and I are more alike than you think...