psych ➳ muke

0.3

Room 7.

I stand outside of the room for a few moments, just staring at the number displayed on the plaque.

This is it.

Luckily, the nurses allow me to stand there in the hall. All of the patients are currently in a group therapy, so I won't be disturbed. In a way, I'm grateful. A little alone time wouldn't be so bad. I could take the time to assess my thoughts, come to terms with everything happening.

The door is closed, but all the patients are in therapy, so I don't knock. Upon entering, I notice him immediately. He's sat on a poorly made bed, a paperback book in his hands. He glances up at me, eyeing me from top to bottom, but he stays silent. I feel uncomfortable again, butterflies erupting in my stomach as he studies me. Then, he looks away. Eyes cast down to his book.

I gulp, moving over to the unoccupied bed across the room. The room itself is small. Two beds, a desk, and a chair. It's bolted to the floor, likely so we don't throw it in a fit of rage.

Good thinking.

I sigh as I sit back on the bed, picking at my hospital gown. The nurses have yet to bring my clothes round and I feel self conscious being partially naked.

I can't help but to glance over at the boy. Suddenly feeling intrigued. I want to talk to him, but I won't say a word. His face reads no expression. Eyes darting across the words on the page as he goes, flipping them once he is finished. His hair is platinum blond, he's quite fit. But his choice of clothing is what catches my eye. He sports a tight pair of black jeans, small tears in the knees, and an Ozzy Osbourne tee shirt.

"I can feel your eyes on me," He suddenly states, shaking me from my thoughts, "I'd appreciate if you didn't stare, you're giving me a complex."

My eyes grow wide in shock.

How did he see me staring? Why was I staring, anyway?

I bite my lip nervously, adverting my gaze to my lap, picking at the gown once again. Just then, a nurse appears at the door, holding a stack of clothing.

"Luke, would you like to get changed? Mum brought you some clothes."

I spring from the bed, thankful for a way out of the room. I take the clothes from her with a fake smile. She leads me to a bathroom, unlocks the door, and motions for me to enter. I change quickly and when I'm done, she is still waiting outside of the door.

"I'll take those," she reaches for the hospital gown, "I see you've met Michael."

Michael, what a name.

"You could say that," I deadpan, biting my lip.

She just smiles in return, leading me back to Room 7. I don't want to go back in, but I'm not given another choice.

When I enter the room for the second time, the light is off and Michael appears to be asleep underneath the bedsheets.

Must be his nap time.

I make my way over to my designated bed. Being left alone with my thoughts is potentially  dangerous, I know. So, I lay down as well, hoping sleep will find me.

Just as sleep is taking over, a small voice mutters out, "My name is Michael."

And it's the first nice thing he has ever said to me.

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Hi! I'm back :)

I'm going to be paying A LOT of attention to this story for awhile until I find inspiration for my other stories.

Hope you are all enjoying this so far!