*working title*

Chapter Two: Part One

Please read the introduction to chapter one for guidelines and my own words.

After last night’s small quarrel, Dewees and the warden decided that it was best for all of us to get some much-needed rest, and they’d transport me in the morning. That way I could get acquainted with my new therapist, warden, and unfortunately an actual cellmate after I was officially registered, instead of directly before like they had planned. We all agreed that we didn’t want to wake them up upon my arrival. By we, I mean Ballato and Dewees, I, of course, had no say in my own life.

Alas, I’m still quite wary of what exactly will happen when they realized I’ve gone outside, or even transferred. Dewees and a couple nurses had tried last night to explain to me their theories on how once I moved to a new facility, the Calleri would stop going after me. But I knew that they would never stop hunting me. Ever.

Now, as I lay in the small infirmary cot, my anxiety from the previous night all rushes back upon my awakening. Here we go again. My breaths shorten as my half-asleep mind finally rushes back into reality. Today’s the day.

There are two unfortunate options in my future as the day breaks. Choice one, as soon as I step outside, I’m bombarded by their teams, rendered handless, and thus being rendered useless. Or, there’s option two. This choice consists of my being practically dragged from the comfort of my own asylum, lugged to a new location, and forced to make new acquaintances, and actually having to use interaction skills. Currently, choice one is more appealing. I might just be acting dramatic, as is my tendency, but I’d probably rather die at the hands of my greatest enemies than be forced to actually socialize.

Then I hear a knock at the large hospital doors. Who knocks in prison?! My insolent subconscious decides to spark up in it’s own opinions.

“Er, come in?”

I speak up, my less-than-planned remark coming out as more of a question than a statement.

Then someone I don’t know walks in. At first, I’m wary of this man’s rough appearance, as I usually am. But when I fully take in his soft features, I can tell that he means no harm.

“Um, who are you exactly?”

My second question comes out in a condescending tone, even though this guy isn’t exactly the snob strapped to a cot.

“Oh, my name’s Frank” He says with a slight twinkle in his eye. “I’m here to help transport you.”

My earlier expectations of him being nice are dashed as the word transport slips across his wide smile. Why the heck is he smiling?

“You see, I came in here because,” He continues slowly, “Well, we drew straws to see who would wake you up, and I drew the short one.”

I chuckle at his shy words. His stature definitely matches the size of the straw he picked, cute and short.

Then my subconscious kicks in again.

“Why the heck would you pick straws?!” I spit out.

I’m actually a bit angered at this, I’m not that dangerous. I mean, I haven’t even bitten anyone in the past week!

He shrugs.

“I don’t know man, I thought it was a bit unnecessary as well. You don’t look too terrifying.”

By the way he narrows his eyes, I can tell that Frank’s analyzing my features for any signs of hostility, like I had looked at him before. Suddenly his hazel eyes snap to full size again and he raises his hands from his sides in a kind of surrendering position.

This gesture moves his off-white lab coat just far enough that I can see the slightly crinkled Mellon Collie shirt he has on underneath.

I blurt out a quick sigh as I realize maybe this guy isn’t as bad as I thought. Not that I thought he was bad, just a bit annoying. He did nearly wake me up, after all.

“So you like Smashing Pumpkins?”

I ask the question as he smoothes his lab coat back against his chest where it rode up before.

“Huh? Oh, yeah! Wait, how’d you know that?”

His face goes through a series of emotions before sarcastically I point at his still-lightly-exposed Mellon Collie shirt.

“Well yeah, but how do you know about Smashing Pumpkins? You’ve been in here for like, forever!”

I raise one eyebrow at him, a skill I have so far finely tuned.

“Okay, okay”

He puts his hands up in the same surrendering position as before, and his coat rides up once again.

He swears before he sighs and admits; “Man, I need a new coat, this one is nearly gray and way too small.”

“Heh” A small laugh escapes my lips, sounding nearly feminine. It’s hard to believe that something is too small for this guy, he looks about as sizeable as a 5th grader.

Frank interrupts my thoughts with a statement that brings me back into my terrible two-faced reality.

“Er, um, Gerard, we should get going. I bet they’re wondering where we are..”

He trails off, obviously wary of my reaction to this moving statement. I raise my eyebrow once again. He gets the hint and starts to undo the cot’s rigid straps as he attempts to continue the previous conversation, but I’m not up for it.

We may have the same music taste, but this Frank guy and I are definitely not friends.