cigarette butts ➸ michael clifford

05. Michael

I trudged down the hallway, hands lazily shoved in my pockets, hair flicked over my eyes, hanging low. Breakfast had tasted like cardboard with horse shit smeared on top.

Maybe it was the mix of toothpaste, puke, whiskey and the fry up. Maybe.

As well as chewing on literal shit, I had wandered around the whole cafeteria looking for a decent seat. Half of the people looked like zombies, some not very sane and some forming cliques. There was one completely empty table in the hall. As I went straight for it, I saw another table with a window view, but then noticed someone vacating it. My eyes narrowed in the direction of the girl, at first being annoyed that such a good seat was taken, but then, taking a look around, I realized I had probably come across the most sane person here.

She was sat picking at her eggs, looking about as tired and annoyed as I was. Perfect. Turning away from the table I had originally chosen, I headed in the direction of sanity.

The tray slipped out of my clammy hands, clattering on to the dirty, defaced table, unintentionally making the girl jump and look offended. I'd never spoken to or set eyes on her before that morning, but I was here because she had taken the best seat in the house and I needed company.

Selfish? Possibly.

She was quiet, reserved and didn't seem to know me or care, if she did. She seemed like a puzzle - an enigma - that I wanted to solve. We didn't speak a word for the whole forty five minutes we sat together, but I came to the conclusion she wasn't going to use a needle on me as a shank.

As soon as breakfast was over, she had disappeared before I could even look at her. I got up by myself, scraping what was left of the crap in to the bin and left for my first activity of the day.

I was meant to be in crafts right now, but I had a frown settled on my face, as I had recognized this hallway as the same hallway I came down 5 minutes ago. I was late for the activity, probably the most tedious activity, and I had no clue where I was going. I put both hands behind my head, ready to give up, when a kid, about my age, walked past looking panicked as hell. I made the decision to follow him, hoping he would take me to the right place. We criss crossed all over the building, before coming up to a large arched walkway, an area filled with tables, chairs and a various aged group coming into view. I instantly felt my heart sink at the thought of a full hour doing this.

"Are you Michael?" a plump woman asked, popping out of god knows where.

"Uh, yeah," I shrugged.

"Well, go on then. Take a seat."

I gazed around the contents of the group, an eyebrow raising at what I witnessed. A few of them were obviously a couple of junkies, going through detox - their faces pale, their moves jerky. Another few of them looked like they wanted to stab everyone with a pencil and be done with it. Was I really the same as them? A shiver ran down my spine. I pursed my lips and shuffled over to a table with a boy who seemed to be creating a collage. Sliding into the seat next to him, I tried peeking around his shoulders, only to see dots of red.

"What are you doing for your collage?"

"Dead bodies."

"Oh."

The scraping of my chair could be heard throughout the room, as I moved to the other side of the table, barely escaping with my life. I grabbed paper and a pencil, but the paper sat in front of me, blank, and the pencil untouched.

"I need a drink."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Crafts was the biggest vibe killer - if there even was a vibe to kill. As soon as we had been told we could leave, I shot up, wiping my hands, out of habit, on my worn out jeans and headed straight for the door. I had barely made it around the corner, when someone grabbed the back of my jumper and tugged roughly on it. I swung around, ready to punch them and tell them to fuck off, when I came face-to-face with the guy from earlier - the one I followed. He had his hands above his head in a state of surrender, a sly grin spread across his face, as he raised his eyebrows at me. I stared back at him, noting his short spiked hair, bloodshot eyes and crazed smile.