Never Crossed My Mind (boyxboy)

Chapter Three

"Checks," the nurse said in a hushed voice.

I sighed. The sedative they gave me definitely worked faster, but it also burned off a hell of a lot quicker.

I closed my eyes, feigning sleep as the nurse shined her flashlight across the room. Once I heard the door click shut, I opened them to utter darkness, only shadows to keep me company.

I heard a groan to my left.

"Jesus Christ!" I gasped, jumping nearly a foot in the air. "Who's there?"

"Me," came a voice, thick with sleep.

"Wow. Because that gives me so much information," I muttered sarcastically.

"My name is Mason," said the boy.

"I'm Sam," I replied.

He was silent for a moment. "Why do the nurses do that?" he asked.

"What? The checks?" At his affirmative noise, I continued. "They have to make sure everyone is in bed, sleeping, and alive."

"Alive?" he choked.

"Yep," I said, popping the 'p'. "So, what are you in here for? Try to kill someone?" I teased.

"Er," he struggled for words. "Uh, well, sort of, um-"

"You tried to kill yourself?" It was barely even a question. I already knew the answer.

He sighed. "Yeah."

I turned my head toward his bed, even though he was nothing but a dark silhouette in the little light that shone from under the door. "Why? Trouble in paradise? Mommy and Daddy giving you a hard time?"

He growled under his breath. "Trouble at school," he hissed.

"Can't keep your grades up? The big kids pickin' on you?" I asked sarcastically.

"Yeah, bullies," he hissed. "Beat me up, called me a fag, stole my stuff. They made my life a living hell."

"It couldn't have been that bad," I scoffed. Eh, but what did I know? I hadn't been in a public school since I was ten. "Suicide is selfish, anyway."

"Shut the hell up. I lost hope, was sick of everyone and everything. And don't act so innocent. People talk, okay? I heard that you've tried to kill yourself before, too. More than once."

"...kidding," I hissed, irritated at the fact that he had brought up things that had absolutely nothing to do with him. "No one cares, though. There's really no point in living if no one wants to be around you, right? I mean, come on! It's not much fun causing trouble by yourself, is it?" I closed my eyes and sighed, "You have people who care about you. You must. Someone had to have put you in here thinking that it was good for you, yeah?"

He didn't answer my question. "You have people who care about you," he accused. "What about your family, your friends? The people around here all seem to like you pretty well."

"My parents are idiot bastards who I never want to see again. And everyone around here just want someone to follow, someone who's not afraid to do something. I love Sammie, and Shirley is lovely and all that, but they don't really care. It's all the goddamn pity slithering around this place. They're all crazy. We're all crazy. That's why we're all in a nut house."

"...Why are you here?" Mason asked tentatively.

My hand found the pack of cigarettes under my pillow. I pulled one out, sticking it in my mouth and striking it with my lighter. Goddamn, it was hard to keep a lighter here. Richard was always taking it from me, saying that I wasn't supposed to have it unless I was under supervision.

I blew smoke from my mouth, watching it turn the black to a runny gray.

"I don't remember. A couple of things, I think. My parents brought me in when I was ten, and I've yet to really be told much of anything. It's all just pointing and whispering between the doctors. I have bipolar disorder, I know that. And OCD, I'm pretty sure. They keep whatever else I got on file."

Mason sighed.

I took a drag of my cigarette, letting the smoke flow out of my nose and mouth.

"Can I ask you one more question?" he asked in a small voice.

"Shoot," I said.

"Who's Jamie?"