Putting holes in happiness

Waiting for a friend

Later that day, we didn't have group therapy for whatever reason, which I had yet to experience so I didn't yet understand why everyone was so overjoyed about this "rare" event. We had about three hours to kill,or at least I did. . .the rest of the girls had schoolwork so I sat in the dayroom and watched soap operas. At about 3:30, two things happened:

1.) Maria and the quiet, normal-looking girl whose name was Jess got into a fist fight for some reason. Their argument was so quiet though, that I didn't even realize it was actually an argument until they began exchanging blows. Both were tackled by scrub-garbed personel, sedated, and taken away to isolation.

2.) I was told that I had a visitor. I ran off toward the lobby, hoping that it was Manson. But I saw someone else instead, Pogo! His hair was cut in the style of a mohawk again and he wasn't wearing any makeup. I sprinted toward him and hugged him.

"I missed you so much," I cried, hugging him tighter, "I wish that you still lived with us! Your shenanigans are severely missed."

He hugged me back, patting me on the back, "I miss you too, but somethings are just more important."

"Than me?" I let go and stared at him in disbelief.

"Leonore, you know that's not what I mean," he sighed, "I meant standing up for yourself. But, I came here to ask you something."

"What?"

"Well, Dita told me about what has been going on between you and Manson--"

"What has she told you," I demanded, cutting him off.

"He's romantically interested in you," Pogo continued, "and I don't want to see you used by him like the others. It's not right, and I consider you to be one of my best friends. I would be so unhappy to see you so hurt."

"He's not using or mistreating me," I insisted, "it's fine. I feel the same way about him. Always have. Even if he married my aunt!"

"I think it might be a good idea if you come live with me a while," Pogo suggested, as if I hadn't said anything, "you need to get away from all the chaos it seems like. See some place new."

"Pogo, you are much more chaotic than Manson," I laughed.

"No not really," Pogo sighed, "I've found that I'm much more calmer since getting away from him."

"Either way," I continued, "I don't want to leave Manson."

"Leonore--"

"I can't leave him," I insisted, "I am as happy as I will ever be while in his presence!"

"You probably won't see me much anymore then," he warned me, "if at all. I'll be going back to Florida for a while after the trial is over."

Tears gathered in my eyes, "I really hate this," I sniffled, "I wish that things were the same again. Why are you making me choose between our friendship and my Manson?"

"Leonore, I'm telling you this for your own good," Pogo continued, "I woke up and realized that things weren't right. Manson is an asshole when you tell him he's wrong. But you wouldn't know, since he's become some sort of Demigod for you. But he's selfish, childish, and as much as he talks about being stabbed in the back, he sure does a lot of it as well. I am not asking you to choose between Manson and me though. You can skype me. But I hope that you consider how he treated Dita, and maybe have a word with John5 as well, someone whom you never got to know, but was badly mistreated, more so than I."

I wiped at my tears, "What is this lawsuit really about anyway? You've never cared about money, or seemed to anyway."

He sighed and patted me on the head, "you don't need to worry about it," he said, smiling, "you have enough going on, being back in a psychward and all. Just focus on getting better."

He hugged me, getting ready to leave, "I'll try to come visit you again next week, okay?" I watched him walk away until he was passed the security checkpoint. I felt a presence lurking behind me and turned on my heel, spotting the blond girl (Felicitas). She was staring at Pogo as well.

"Was-was that Pogo a.k.a. Madonna Wayne Gacy," she exclaimed.

"Uh-huh," I nodded, wondering how much she she had heard, "how long have you been here?"

"Long enough," she replied, cryptically, "it's time for dinner." Then, she left me.