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CHAPTER TWO → THE LOONEY BOX
the first thing that happened when i got home from school wasn't a surprise. my father was in his room, the door locked, and awkward adult moans where heard through the empty hallways.
"another prostitute i'm guessing?!" i tell, knowing he won't hear, but i needed to get it out anyway. i drag myself to my room, flicking the switch on, and slamming the door closed behind me with my numb foot (from wearing shoes that are way too small).
i think about boris.
i wonder if he has a girlfriend? boyfriend? he looks like the type to probably have both. i wonder if i go to the bus stop tomorrow at the same time he will be there. i want to know more. i should've gotten his number.
the moaning from down the hallway stops, and i slowly crack my door open, and pear out. there stands a woman, someone i don't recognise, with dead shaw-like blonde hair reaching to her mid back, and an off-white towel covering her body.
i wince, as i see my father give her a sloppy kiss. quickly, i shut the door again, locking myself in my room. i slide down the wall with a huff.
*
today i'm not going to school. i'm going to visit charlie. he's been in the 'loony box' for four months now, and i haven't visited him in a whole two weeks. he probably hates me right about now.
it's 9:43am, and school has well and truly started by now. there's no going back now. i'm currently at the bus stop, secretly hoping boris will be there, but he isn't. is cold and gloomy out, the chilly air biting my skin, and my nose and cheeks have turned a rosy red.
i flick the hair tie on my wrist.
next thing i know, i'm at charlie's mental hospital, wondering down the hallway. i rub my head. i don't remember anything, not the bus ride, not the receptionist. nothing. i guess my blackouts are getting worse than i thought.
there is a sign that reads 'psycho ward' at the end of the hall, which branches off two ways. i turn left, hugging my arms right to my chest. nurses wander up and down the halls, as well as a few people in wheelchairs, some with scary scars covering their faces, and even one woman who had a pacifier in her mouth, sitting cross legged on the ground.
i truly am in the 'loony box'.
i read the numbers on the doors. thirty three, thirty four, thirty five. once i get to forty one, i stop. 'charlie neave.'
