*** this was written when I was 15, you've been warned***
[1st place winner of the Rose Awards]
[#2 in disease 06.25.18]
[COMPLETED ✓]
Sebastian had never planned to leave the mental hospital. He didn't plan on meeting a terminally ill girl and runn...
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Sebastian
"Okay, Sebastian. Your parents will be here any minute, is your stuff ready?" My nurse asked. I lifted up my duffle bag to show her I was ready.
"Yep," I sighed. For some reason, I felt nervous.
"Alright good. They'll come and get you, I've got another patient to check on." He said, walking away. I sat at a table with my duffle bag on my lap, my foot tapping nervously.
"Sebastian." A woman's voice made my head snap up. I matched the voice to my mother's face, which had been aged, wrinkles etched into her skin. She looked tired, dark bags hanging from her eyes. And yet, she was still my beautiful mother. I hadn't realized how much I missed her soft eyes that always made me feel better.
"Hi, mom," I said, pecking her cheek. I looked up at my dad, whom I had grown to be the same height as.
"Son," my dad said. He pulled me into a bone-crushing hug, and it felt too unnatural for the man who shoved me into this hospital to be showing me affection. But I embraced it because it was the only affection I had received in a year.
"Hi," I said timidly.
"Let me take your bag. Let's get you home to see Adam." My dad took my duffle bag and flung it over his shoulder.
"How has Adam been?" I asked, wondering about my little brother as I pushed through the door. The crisp June morning air hit me as I stepped outside and felt the sun on my face.
"He's been very good. He got first class honours last year in school." My mom smiled proudly. "He misses you."
"I miss him too," I said. My heart felt sad.
"So, what has kept you busy this past year?" My dad asked. I could sense the guilt that hung in his voice, the guilt he must've felt when he stuck me in the mental hospital and didn't even bother visiting.
"Well, nothing. All I do is write. I can't do anything else. But these past two weeks I've been meeting up with this girl from the other end of the hospital."
"How did you meet her if she's from the other end of the hospital?" My mom chuckled.
"Meh, long story," I said, not wanting to indulge my parents in my late night sneak outs on the roof of the hospital. I'd get a good scolding for sure.
"What's her name? What's she like?" My dad asked.
"Awe dad, come on," I groaned.
"No, I'm serious," he smiled, "tell me about her. She must be something special if she helped you get better in the last two weeks." I've been better for the past year but okay.
"Her name is Luna. She has these pretty green eyes that remind me of a forest," I said, feeling my cheeks burn after telling my parents a little more than I had hoped.
"So, the reason you have gotten better is that of a pair of green eyes?" My dad laughed.
"Oh stop." My mom punched his shoulder. "Leave him alone about it."
"You always told me I couldn't get better because of a person. It just comes and goes. So it's probably not her I'm probably just coming out of it," I mentioned. He nodded his head towards me but didn't say anything as we approached the car.
I opened the door and buckled up my seat belt. And I began to think.
No matter how much I hated my parents when they put me in the mental hospital, I can't stop caring about them. Maybe it was the new sense of freedom that made me feel like this. Or maybe not.
All I know is it feels good to finally be with them again, and finally, be out of that hospital.
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