Fantastic Bastards In Monroeville (Frerard)

Eight

Frank's been acting a little different today; not in a bad way, but still a way to make me curious. He was really giddy when he got up and showered, and is now all smiles and giggles as we got our breakfast in the cafeteria. Today it's pancakes, sausage links, and fresh fruit. I'll try to eat the pancakes and fruit, but avoid the sausage, I said to myself. I've been improving with eating more food, despite how difficult it truly is. I swear that I gag every time I put food in my mouth, and chewing and swallowing is just as hard. I know that I'm getting fatter with every mouthful of food I put in my body, but I'm doing this for Frank. I promised him I would eat more, and I'm doing just that. Maybe Dr. Levin was right. Maybe I do suffer from some form of body dysmorphia. If everyone is saying I'm skinny as a twig and I see myself as a fatass, then something must be wrong...

I looked over at Frank, who was talking under his breath and still smiling and giggling as he walked to a table to sit at with his tray of food. I joined him, as I did, I saw Brendon pass by us as he sat down with Pete and Patrick at another table. I smiled and waved, and he did the same back to me. It was good to see him not crying this time. I diverted my attention back to Frank, who laughed and grinned as he shoveled his pancakes into his mouth.

"What's so funny, Frank?" I asked, taking a bite of my fruit and holding back my urge to gag.

"Nothing. I got great news!" Frank announced.

"Really? What is it?"

"My dad is gonna come visit me today! He told me through the chip implanted in my head that he's finally got time off work to see me!"

I smiled, even though deep down I felt sad for Frank. Based on the bit of information I've heard from Bob, Frank's dad doesn't seem to be involved with his own son. If anything, he was an abusive piece of shit. But maybe I'm wrong. Maybe Bob lied about Frank's dad beating him into a coma and being absent. If that's so, what's with the giant scar on the side of his head? I do know for a fact that Frank doesn't have a chip implanted into his head, though. Knowing that that is a lie is just plain old common sense. I didn't wanna be the one to burst Frank's happy bubble, so for now I'll just go along with Frank's delusions.

"Really? That's great!" I said, fake smile still on my face. "I can't wait to meet him,"

"I know, right? I really want you to meet him," Frank replied, finishing up his tray of food in record time. I haven't even touched my pancakes. It was at that moment I heard a commotion stir up in the room. I looked up to see some attendees tending to Ray, who rocked back and forth with his hands over his ears, his eyes filled with utter terror. I sighed deeply, feeling bad for the poor guy. Ray's been having these episodes so frequently that I swear it's tiring the staff here. Now I see why he's being transferred to Kingwood.

After eating my fruit and a bit of my pancakes, I gave up forcing myself to eat and followed Frank to group in the day room. We sat down next to each other as we waited for the others to join in. When everyone (except for Ray) sat down, Dr. Haycraft came in and sat with all of the patients, clipboard in her hand.

"Well good morning, everyone!" she sang. "Well, you guys know the routine. Say your name, how you're feeling on a scale of one to ten, why you feel that way, and why you're here. Who would like to go first?"

Next to me, Frank shot up his hand quickly after Dr. Haycraft spoke, a huge-ass smile on his face. I've never seen someone so eager to go first in group.

"Me, me, me!" Frank exclaimed. Dr. Haycraft laughed.

"Okay, Frank. You go first," she said.

"Yay!" Frank exclaimed. "So my name is Frank, and on a scale of one to ten I'm at a ten, and...I'm here because my mom sent me here, and I don't know why,"