The fall (pt 2 To The asylum)

Chapter 1

"Sophie?" Harper's voice is low and watery over the phone, and just by the tone of his voice i can tell hes been crying.

"Harper? Whats wrong? Are you okay?" I stutter.

"N-no I-"

"I'm on my way." I tell him, hanging up getting out of bed quickly.

There's only one reason Harper would call me at 3 in the morning, and its not to eat pizza

The cool wind stings in my face, following me as I trudge slowly down the sidewalk on the way to my car. Andy had to stay after school for band practice, and I'm honestly not disappointed. It'll be nice to get away from him for a few hours, since all he's done is cling to me like a monkey since the 'incident'. I shiver, forcing even the word out of my mind. I refuse to think about that night. Besides, I don't exactly want a companion while I see the only other person in this world who knows what it's like to be mind-tortured in an abandoned Asylum. Dammit, Sophie. Stop thinking about it.

I reach my car, climbing in the front seat with some difficulty and starting the ignition. I would drive to Sonny's apartment, [Andy told me Harper, Rye, and himself were living there for "band" purposes], but he's staying with his mum at the moment, and Julie was kind enough to give me her address before I left the hospital for this purpose.

I haven't seen Harper in a week. After they discharged us from the hospital, we both went home, and neither of us showed up for school Monday morning. The doctors had refused to believe anything that we told them, and the officer informed us that nothing would be done to the building for a few months, much to our outrage. After staying in bed all day Monday, I decided I felt well enough to attend school on Tuesday, but was proved wrong when Andy had to literally carry me to my car at the end of the day. The medications the doctors had in me are long gone, leaving me with only my prescribed meds, and it's taken it's toll. I've gotten better, though, and it's Friday now, but Harper still hasn't shown up to school. I haven't really seen Rye much either. I really need to see Harper, it's hard going a whole week with nobody that understands, well, the voices, and I may or may not be missing the hell out of him.

It doesn't take me long to reach the house. It's actually just a few blocks down from mine. I park my car on the curb, not really knowing how long I'll be here, and begin the long process of getting out. I have to move as slowly as possible, considering the fact that I feel like I've been beaten with a rod a gazillion times. I hope the soreness goes down soon.

Walking to the front door is a little harder than anticipated. It takes all my effort just to not walk like I have a stick up my butt. When I finally reach the front door, I try my best to plaster the fakest smile I can across my face, and knock.

Julie answers the door within a few seconds, smiling when she sees me. "Oh, hi, Sophie." She pauses, taking in my appearance. It probably wasn't a good idea to wear sweatpants and an old t-shirt, but hey, I couldn't care less. "Harper is upstairs, just down the hall."

I nod, thanking her, relieved that she didn't ask any questions. I'm not exactly wonderful in awkward social situations.

The house is strangely quiet, no real sound apparent except for running water in the kitchen. I make my way past the living room, looking for stairs. Several pictures hang on the walls, most of Harper and his brother, with an older man that I assume is their dad. I stop in front of a particularly adorable one, of Harper when he was like, 12, and his hair is sticking up all over the place. There's a few more of Harper when he was older, teenage years, actually, all with the same man. There's even one where Harper is playing the guitar with him and Rye, all of them smiling and/or laughing. However, when I get to some of the more recent pictures, they don't have the man in them. I soon find myself smiling, because the pictures portray Harper in a whole new way. I am still distracted by the photographs when I hear footsteps in the kitchen, and start to remember why I came here in the first place.

I make myself walk away from the pictures, searching for stairs again. I find them pretty quickly, but getting up them is another story. Using my good arm for support, I make my way up the staircase agonisingly slow, step by step, until I reach the top, holding my back like an old lady. I certainly look like one, with my messy braid and zero makeup.

All the doors in the hall are open except for one, and I take the hint that it's Harper's room. I make my way down to it, not bothering to control my walk this time, because I'm not in public. I start to knock, but hesitate. I press my ear to the door. Silence.

Deciding to go with my first action, I knock a few times, and wait.

"Mum, I told you I'm fine." A muffled voice grumbles from behind the door. Harper.

Slowly, I push open the barrier between us, leaning against the frame. "Uh, hi."

At first I don't even see Harper, because he's so wrapped up in blankets on the bed that he's almost invisible. The lights are off, which doesn't help. I finally notice a little speck of blonde before he emerges, hair flat and eyes tired, turning to look at me. He looks just about the same as before.

"Oh, hey, Soph." He mumbles, tired and bored expression unchanged, before wrapping the blankets around himself again.

"How have you been?" I find enough bravery to hobble in and kneel on the floor on the side of the bed, the door swinging halfway-closed behind me, letting just enough light in the room to see.

"I've felt like shit all week, actually." He coughs from underneath the blankets, still unmoving. "Where were you?"

"School." I reply, nervously playing with the edge of the flannel bedspread.

"You actually went to school?" Harper sounds surprised. He lifts his head up to look at me. "I couldn't even get out of bed for three days. I want the hospital drugs back. The medication they're giving me now isn't doing shit." He pauses, swallowing. "I missed you. I wish you would've came."

A pang of guilt shoots through me, and I sigh. "Yeah, I missed you too. I was going to come see you, I promise, I just couldn't find the time. I'm sorry." I do feel bad for not coming to see him, I really do, I just couldn't find the time all week between having to get used to my medication and Andy's inescapable clinginess. I notice a particularly large bulge in the lower half of the blankets. "How's your leg?"

He grunts, then wiggles out of the blankets to reveal the large cast, drawings and doodles all over it. Most of them are of pizza. and dicks. Can't say I'm surprised.

"Rye loves to take a marker to it." Harper laughs weakly, and I join in. He pulls the blankets over himself again.

"The medication isn't helping." Harper sighs.

I frown. "What do you mean?"

"The nightmares. And the voices. They won't stop" He says darkly, reaching hand out. I take it and lace our fingers together.

I nod, grimacing. "The nightmares aren't stopping for me either. Or the voices." I swallow hard. "And nobody will believe me about what happened. Not even Andy."

Harper scoffs. "I can relate. My whole family thinks I'm insane now."

"Same."

He groans. "You're the only one that understands." He looks at me with something I can't explain in his eyes.

"The same goes for you." I mutter, playing with his fingers.

Harper seems to be thinking for a moment. "Hey, can you help me up?"

I nod, standing up, only to be jerked backwards onto the bed. The mattress stifles my fall, thank god, and Harper's laughing as he pulls me under the blankets, facing me.

I squeal loudly, trying to get up, only to be pulled even closer. Harper wraps his arms around my back, hugging me against his chest, throwing his good leg around my own.

"Harper." I laugh softly, "What are you doing, you know I can't-"

"Don't leave." He mumbles, pulling me closer. "Stay."

"But-"

"Please."

I wrap my arms around his waist, giving in to his warmth. Harper rests his chin on the top of my head, and I sigh.

"Okay."