The Asylum

Chapter Two: Can Change Be A Good Thing?

      We enter the asylum through the crystal clear automatic doors at the front of the building. I am strapped into a wheelchair in a straight jacket, just barely coming down from the high of my attack. We were lucky my mother was able to call the front desk and get them to drive the mile out to where I was having my attack. She had received the worst of the injuries, resulting in a black eye soon before anyone had arrived at the scene. I was still in a wild state as we entered, ticking and twitching as I scanned the front room. I had already been checked in before we got there, courtesy of the receptionist.

I was taken to the west wing first, which is where patients are examined and treated for any severe injuries they may have given themselves. Luckily, I only needed to get my arm re sutured after ripping some stitches out. After being bandaged up, I was allowed to walk myself over to the North end of the hospital where my room was, my mom serving as a safety escort.

Mom left me at the door, saying a few quick goodbyes and planting a small kiss on my forehead before turning to go back home and leave me here for a month. I could hear her quietly sobbing as she walked quickly down the white hallway to get back out to the parking lot, and I felt like a hundred needles were stabbing through my heart. Walking into the much too familiar room, I took a moment to adjust to the smell of anxiety burned into the walls. I shivered as I looked around. This truly looked like the room of a crazy person. I had made scratches and tally marks all over the old wallpaper from previous visits. There was a small desk in the far right corner with a lamp on it to provide light for when I was unable to sleep late at night. Across from the desk, in the other corner, was my bed. It had a hard mattress and a few old pillows on it, making for an extremely uncomfortable sleep when I got the chance to do so. I could notice the shadows of heavy black straps securely fastened to the bed frame through a small window on the wall to my left. The window had a flexible material instead of glass for cases in which I may try to break the glass and self harm.

Yikes. This was going to be the worst month ever, especially since I had never stayed at the asylum for so long. I made a point to unpack my small backpack of belongings and head down the hallway to the right for dinner in the cafeteria. I knew the longer I took, the less of the okay tasting food would be there, so I left my room soon enough.

I walked through the swinging double doors and the noise of chattering and nervous "newborns" flooded my ear canals. The tables were already starting to fill so I walked over to the line of sore excuses for food and grabbed my small servings of each. Taking my regular place towards the back corner of the room, I pushed my plate to the other side of the table before even thinking about it. Now to take a look around the room and observe my surroundings, trying to keep my mind off of my itchy forearm.

Many things had been kept the same from my last visit, which is almost always true every time I had come to the asylum, mainly for reasons unbeknownst to me at least. I did notice quite a few "newborns" nervously looking around at the others and trying to eat their slop without throwing up. I did notice one newborn who seemed quite odd. Most of the newborns that come in are around the age of 11 or 12, as I was when I first started making short visits here.

This one was probably around my age though, and he was a male. He seemed to be fiddling with his fingers under the table as he looked around the cafeteria. When he spotted me staring, I snapped my gaze away and tried to act like I was really paying attention to my food. He had already noticed though, and was walking over to where I was sitting, alone as always. I tried to appear confident when I looked at him after he sat across from me, but I could feel my cheeks becoming a hot shade of cherry red. He gave a small smirk at my actions and I nervously tucked a stray strand of hair behind my left ear. Finally, he broke the somewhat awkward silence by speaking up.

"I saw you looking at me over there. What were you thinking about?" He calmly asked, forcing me to speak up and answer his question. "Oh, nothing really. Just thought you were a bit old to be a newborn is all." I replied, trying to keep my answers short because I was starting to think more about him than just that. "Newborn? What's that supposed to mean?" He insisted, a slight offense taken to his nickname of sorts. "Oh! I'm sorry! Uh, newborns are what the patients here usually refer to the new kids as, but it seems you aren't exactly a kid anymore." I told him, doing my best to assure that it wasn't supposed to be rudely used. "Well, you have that part right, I'm 19 now. The name's Luke, and I'm a transfer from another place like this, just smaller." He stuck his hand out for what I assumed was a handshake. "Well, Luke, I'm Alexis, but you can call me Alex. I'm also 19." I explained before placing my right hand in his, becoming extremely taken aback when he kissed the back of my hand instead of giving it a hearty shake. He once again gave that charming smirk at my reaction, nearly making me melt.

With that, the bell rang on the wall, letting us know it was time to go back to our rooms for the night. I was upset that my conversation with Luke had been cut short, but was soon reassured. "Hey, uh, Alex, I'll catch you tomorrow at breakfast, right?" He queried, allowing for his question to sound more like a statement. "Yeah, right." I told him, taking a moment to watch him leave the cafeteria before getting up myself, rubbing the back of my hand as I wondered of what may come of this meeting with a stranger.