Mental [#Wattys 2015]

Chapter 7

I woke up happy. Happy.

That doesn't happen often.

Rolling over on my side, a slip of paper caught my eye. Stretching, I snatched it off the nightstand.

" I want to know everything about you. Look outside your door. "

I'll admit- I was thoroughly confused. But, this had to be the handicraft of none other than Richard Anderson. It had his name written all over it.

Literally, he signed the back.

Peeking outside my door, I spotted another white slip.

" My favorite color is white. For purity.

Go behind the nurses desk."

I didn't even try to suppress my smile; I let it spread across my face for everyone to see.

The depressed girl finally found something that made her happy.

Dashing behind Nurse Cathy's desk, I grabbed the next slip.

" My middle name is Carter. Yours is Camille (checked your files, remember?) Behind the bin in the craft room. "

I couldn't help but laugh. He was definitely something else.

I rushed-no, ran- to the craft room, pushing the bin aside to find my next slip.

"I love poetry. I wrote you a poem. If you would like to hear it, join me for dinner- 8 o'clock sharp in the Assembly Room. "

I felt my long lost butterflies swarm inside my stomach.

Has it been this long since I felt something other than hate for someone?

The foreign feeling in my stomach was an obvious answer.

*****

"Melllllllllll," I whined, sticking out my lower lip, "I don't have anything other than hospital clothes to wear tonight. What type of date is this if I don't even look nice!"

She smiled, motioning me towards her bed.

Using her long fingernails, I watched as she tweaked a wooden board from the floor, pulling out three canvas bags.

"Here," she said, placing the bag in my hands, "they're some stuff from home. Makeup, a couple different clothing, shoes. Most people here sneak some stuff in. You, obviously, did not." She smirked.

After giving her a grateful hug, she shooed me into the bathroom, begging me to try stuff on.

I never realized how much I missed having friends around until that day.

Walking out the bathroom, I strutted around in a pink skirt and black top.

Mel frowned.

"What?" I asked.

"It's not...you? Knowing Ricky, he wants to see you in something that's, well, you."

She dug through the canvas bags, searching relentlessly through the piles of clothing.

"Ah, here it is. Now this is what I'm talking about."

Throwing it at me, I examined the silky spread in front of me. It started off white, but as it ran down the length of the dress, became an ombré of grey and black.

She settled down a pair of black heels.

"Whoa. It's like you planned this..."

She blushed, "Maybe Ricky might've had some help from the outside world getting this. Maybe I was supposed to deliver it to you discreetly."