Greeting Insanity

chapter four

  

That night was a fitful one for Reyna, tossing and turning in her scratchy sheets, begging to do something. It was rather late, according to her intellect of the time passing, so she finally decided to stand and give up on sleep entirely. This was odd for the blonde headed girl, insomnia. The clutches of sleep were usually prompt with a set time for whenever they reached to drag the seemingly innocent girl into the depths of the unconscious. Seeing her journal laying next to her pillow, she wracked her brain for possible letters to write, and... none. A loud sigh released from her pealing lips. Recently she had started picking at them, the moment bringing entertainment, the outcome bringing a painful reality to her mouth. Walking over to one of the paint decorated walls, she ran her hand across the surface, the cement's jagged edges gripping at her revealed flesh. Nipping it open. The simple pain didn't hurt, necessarily, instead bringing a sense of awareness to her brain. For as long as she cared to remember she had been resistant to the sensation of slight pain; paper cuts, small burns, splinters, etc. However, it wasn't as if she encountered these sensations often, being cooped up in the HTA most of her time.

"It's your brain's way of adapting, honey." She clearly remembered how the nurse that she was seeing that day, had constantly called her honey, annoying her greatly. She had entered at the frail age of eleven, into the HTA. She remembered very clearly what happened the day she was brought into the organization, and what had led to.

"Your brain processes things a little differently than other people, honey. It doesn't seem to want you to become aware if something small is hurting you." At the time being, she recalled nodding along to whatever the blonde headed nurse was saying, convincing her that she was satisfied with the limited information. The two only exchanged a simple conversation, Reyna saying some things that caused the nurse to scribble something on her clipboard with a worried face, maybe even a scared one. Reyna didn't tell people about that conversation, only the nurse, Nancy, knew, and had been wary of her since. Walking aimlessly away from the wall and toward her door, she checked the nob. She wasn't sure of the exact time, but she figured it was still early morning. She knew most participants in the Mental section of the HTA had their doors locked at night, but not Reyna. They had no reason to believe she would sneak anywhere. If only they knew. Until she left, she was left to do whatever she pleased, in her room. Strutting, she trekked the couple of meters toward her dark wood door. Reaching toward the plastic circular nob, she twisted, hoping that she would be aloud to leave her insomnia. A breath of air that she wasn't aware she had been holding, was released, in relief. Pulling the slightly heavy door to her, she opened the barrier. Seeing the hall, she was momentarily blinded by its illuminated white walls, reflecting brightly. That was the thing about the HTA, every section was designated to a color, adding in a pinch of organization to the rambunctious building. From what Reyna knew, New York was the only city to have such a program. Then again, she didn't know much of the outside world's habits. Reyna's section, just so happened to be white. Just her luck, she was given the one color that she had mildly disliked as a child, and all through her adolescent years the loathing had harbored and deepened into a vicious hatred. Stepping into the hallway, she moved forward, the only direction in which the hallway led, her door being the farthest down in the accessible corridor. Reyna kept going through the narrow white walls, soon nearing a common area for her section; Mental. The area was almost bare of human life, the exception, a small boy with light brown hair and matching skin. Nearing him, she took notice of his fragile age, an estimate of barely eight. He was sitting down on a white sofa, no one other than a guard at each door to keep him company. The young boy seemed to be completely engrossed in a large textbook, the title only legible once she stood mere feet in front of him; Algebraic Geometry. Coughing lightly, Reyna gained the boy's attention, watching in amusement as he snapped his head upward toward her, the book tumbling from his grasp and onto the white marble flooring.

"Bloody 'el." He cursed quietly, a strong British accent slipping through his words.

"Now, no need to swear." She tutted, shaking her head in mock disappointment, a smile betraying her. Only then did the boy register that the important matter was not his beloved textbook but rather the pretty blonde in front of him whom he had never seen.

"So- or- y- uh" He stuttered nervously, opening and shutting his mouth repeatedly. Reyna offered him another smile, kneeling on the ground at his feet, reaching his short height.

"What's your name?" He gulped loudly, running a small hand through his caramel hair, glancing at the floor, his feet, then her, the floor, feet, her, the floor, feet, her, the floor, feet, feet, feet, grey wool socks covering small toes, not a shoe in sight. Reyna cleared her throat lightly, gaining his attention again. Another audible gulp was heard, the boy fighting his initial instinct to glance at the floor, stare at his feet, and steal looks at her. She offered him a smile,

"You don't have to answer, you know. However, my name is Reyna Evans, and it is lovely to meet you, assuming we haven't before. My memory doesn't often fail me, and I would have thought to remember the face of such an intelligent boy." The compliment brought a rosy blush to his bronzed cheeks, his neck heating.

"Th- th- thank you, mi- miss." He stammered out, forcefully, thieving yet another glimpse at her freckled face. A quiet laugh erupted through Reyna, startling the small boy momentarily. Upon seeing his nervous expression her merry chuckles dimmed, her small smile present.

"Now, how old are you, my genius boy? Can I call you that? Seeing as I have no other name to give you..." She asked, her smile mirrored on the boy, delighted by her nickname.

"Oh, it is quite alright miss! I don't mind at all! I'm six, turning seven in July." He rushed out, previous stutters vanished. He appeared to realize his enthusiasm along with her, a smile widening and a flush deepening.

"Oh!" She exclaimed. He was younger than she had thought, the book only adding to his maturity, apparently.

"Henry."

"What was that?" She hadn't quite heard what he said, his words quieter than his previous.

"Henry, my name. Henry McCain." Reyna's confusion was immediately replaced with a feeling of excitement.

"What a lovely name! If you don't mind, may I ask why you are here? In the HTA?" Unfortunately for Reyna, the boy's smile faded, a frown replacing it, adding to his age.

"They said I was too smart, a nerd." Reyna gasped loudly, his hushed confession, stopping abruptly. She stood in defiance at his hurtful words, denying that the boy could be anything but lovely. Without a word, she grabbed for his textbook, still laying on the ground. Setting the book on her lap, Reyna scanned its contents, rightfully confusing her mediocre brain. The HTA taught standard schooling for a variety of ages, but the problems in her hands were extremely complicated. Shifting her gaze upward and latching it onto him, she read a single question, one that she often wondered herself.

"What was the exact moment that the HTA was contacted? To bring you in?" Henry smiled nervously, furrowing his thin eyebrows, a nervous laugh ringing through the space between them.

"I supported various details as to why E = mc2 was overall incorrect, initially defying Albert Einstein, one of the most revolutionary men ever to walk the Earth." His sheepish smile was replaced with excitement, immediately launching into his theory, degrading Einstein's thought process efficiently. Reyna was rather impressed, even she had been taught the significance of Einstein throughout the ages, and this almost seven-year-old boy, dared to argue with his hard-earned conclusion. Reyna raised a hand, silencing his rant of letters, numbers, names, and dates, a jumble of an intelligent string of words that she overall didn't understand.

"Well, Henry, something like that should be winning you a Nobel Prize, not a cell in this prison." The previous smiles on the two's faces vanished, along with the cheerful mood, replaced with an eerie uncertainty.

"It's not that bad, I only just arrived." He mumbled trying to convince them both. Reyna offered a forced grin, letting the subject drop.

"So, Henry, do you like to paint?"