Whatever Happens |Kyman • Stenny • Creek|

Chapter 47: The Cool Kids

"3, 2, 1, we came to fuck; Everybody party 'til the gasman comes; Sparkle like Bowie in the mornin' sun; And get a parkin' violation on La Brea 'til it's done."

~Kyle's POV~

Monday (Week 6)

I've been in this hospital for almost a week now. For most of it, I've been quarantined in my room. Not by force or anything, but just because I didn't want to show my face to anyone. Doctors would come in and out to check on me, but that's about all of the interactions I've come across so far.

When the doctors didn't come in, I've been texting Butters and Clyde. They know I'm here and agreed to find a way to get me out of here. I don't think it's possible since the assholes here need to be convinced that I'm fine, but they said they'd try anyway.

I heard footsteps right outside the door. Before the door swung open, I hid my phone underneath my pillow. "You doing alright, Kyle?" The worker had asked me. I turned over to him and nodded. "Yeah I'm fine. Thanks." I answered. I then turned back around on the bed and faced the wall. He still stood under the doorway with the door open.

"You'll probably feel better if you hang out with the other patients." He suggested. "Being cramped in a room by yourself will do you more bad than good."

I remained in bed while he went to close the door behind him. He was probably right, though. I should socialize with the other guys here. Maybe making new friends wouldn't be so bad after all. It might even make time go faster for me and I'll be out of here faster.

Apparently, mental hospitals won't allow you to wear clothes that have strings on them. If you want to wear a pair of pajama pants, for example, the string you use to tie and make it tighter against your hips has to be removed. Workers here have developed some fear that someone is crazy enough to stop blood flow by using the string to tie around your arm or something stupid like that. They're probably also fearful of someone using a dainty string to hang themselves or something, like that's even possible. How can a tiny strand of string suspend a one-hundred-fifty pound person?

I was given a few sets of clothes to wear during the day and at night since I mainly came here with nothing. I came with a backpack of clothes, but I believe it's still in my room at the community center. I can probably get Butters or Clyde to get it to me if they're still around. Or I can call someone from the community center and ask them to bring it to me. Yeah...I might actually just do that.

Just to maintain my innocent reputation among the workers here, I asked them if I could use the phone to call someone. They have to dial the number for me, but they'll let me talk once the number is dialed.

"Yeah, dial 303-399-2660." I told them. The girl behind the desk nodded and dialed up the number on the desk phone.

"Here you go, sweetie." She said nicely. I smiled and thanked her.

As I waited for someone to answer, I looked around the living area at the other kids that were here. I was in an area where only the men hung out in, and since I'm considered a minor, I'm with other people my age. Well, maybe people who are twenty-one and under. No one here looks a day over twenty.

"Thanks for calling the Staenberg-Loup Jewish Community Center. How can I help you?" A male voice said on the phone. It sounded exactly like David, another student assistant there that I've become pretty close to over the last few years.

"David! It's Kyle!" I said loudly to him, being happy that he answered.

"Oh Kyle! What's up, dude?" He said.

"Alright just bear with me. I'm in a mental hospital right now."

"...okay?" He started, sounding a bit weirded out.