Hospital Gowns

Chapter One

Hearing the cries of little children, playing in a room full of fun and sorrow.  The room’s vibrating colors made the kids attention expand, as the toys on the shelves danced with joy.  And I, for one, will not tolerate such behavior.  Three year olds screaming at one another, begging and pleading for the toys they had first laid their eyes on.  And sitting in the middle of them made the blood trickle down the pale ears, covered by straight black strings of hair.  Many, many strings of hair.  As the blood absorbed in the strings, the screaming increased by about ten percent.

And that was my idea to leave.  Pale feet danced out of the room, and trotted down the halls.  The others made such a quiet tone, it was almost silent.  It was nice to hear peace in my blood red ears, just so I can hear my own thoughts ringing in my head.  All were destroyed when a familiar tone echoed in my head.

“Dexter!”

I turned.  “Hello.”

“Where have you been?  You should have been in the lab fifteen minutes ago!”  The man looked angry.

“I apologize, Martin.  I was asked to watch the children play while a nurse was out.  I had to say yes.  And she is the nurse who is paying for my visit here.”

“Enough of your smart talk, Dexter!  You don’t want to keep anyone else waiting.  Especially me!”

“Tell me, Martin, why you?”

“Because I am also in charge of you while your parents are out in Thailand.”

I scoffed, “Why did they go there?”

“Dexter, we went over this!”  This time, Martin was pleading.  He knew how much I hated my parents, and how much I wanted them here at the same time.  They may not get to hear the words I want them to hear.  “Dexter…”

“I know, Martin.  You don’t have to explain it all over to me again.”

Martin just let out a contented sigh, as he reached his harry hand out to mine.  I took it, gently, as I followed him to white double doors that were about a mile away from where I was standing.  And I just stared.  There was nothing special about this door.  It was white, and had a few scuff marks on it.  There were probably people kicking it open non-stop.  One of the windows looked slightly cracked, and damaged.  The other looked fine.

“Follow me,” Martin said, a sly smile taking place.

“Oh joy,” I replied under my breath.  Lucky for me, Martin didn’t hear.  And if he did, he would probably make some sort of snotty comment, like he always does.

Martin is a family friend of ours.  He is fifty-seven years old, and has lived with us for many years.  His wife died ten years ago.  I was only four at the time, so I didn’t know what was going on.  Martin had two children, Michelle and Alexander.  They both died in a car crash, along with Martin’s wife, Chelsea.  Michelle would have been my age if she were alive today.  Martin said that we may be close friends, even though he didn’t know his daughter well enough.  Alexander was ten years old, so he would be twenty if he were alive.  All I remember was that Alexander was a cunning boy, who got away with anything that he could get his hands on.  A troubled boy, he was.  And no one knew why.  My thought was that he was bullied at school, like I am.  Well, like I was.

Ever since I entered the hospital about two weeks ago, I haven’t been bothered at school.  I promised my History teacher that I would send her e-mails twice a week so that people could catch up with me and stuff like that.  Anyway, I was a victim in school bullying.  I wasn’t beaten up or anything like that.  I was just made fun of because I was different.  I’m not your average boy.  I go to school with perfectly straight hair that covers my face.  My hair is jet-black and it has purple tips.  I’m as pale as a Polar Bear, and I’m tall and very skinny.  I’m a loner, and I only have one friend.  Her name is Hazel.  She’s been my friend since first grade.  Nothing could split us apart.  I can remember in fiftth grade when some of our classmates tried to get us to hold hands.  Hazel and I never liked each other like that.  Hazel’s boyfriend is quite the ass, though.