Prisoner of Love

Chapter 1

♥

Chapter 1

"Tell me a story P'"

I turned and looked into the eyes of the smaller boy, crossing my arms to my chest. The boy was sitting on the bed, staring at me with his big dark eyes that were sparkling with anticipation, hoping for a good bed-time story. I let out a small sigh and let my eyes wander around the room.

I never liked these buildings, so depressing and eerie. I always feel so uncomfortable here. They're all the same – the walls, the hallways, the rooms, everything is white, not a single decoration, colour, painting, nothing. It's just so damn plain. And they all speak of depression, pain, heartbreak and death. It just doesn't feel right.

And not to mention the smell. When you step inside, it almost knocks you off your feet for the first time. The smell, to me, is appalling. When I first came here I had to lean against the cold wall, counting to ten to avoid fainting. Yes, it has always helped me, this counting-to-10 thing.

It was a friend of mine, who suggested to use this method whenever I was depressed, angry or about to lose my mind. I don't remember who exactly it was, but I am really thankful for the tip. It has helped me a lot. Although I would have never thought I'd be using it so often lately.

Yes, this was how much I disliked being where I was right now. Even while holding the small teacup in my hands, sniffing the warm peppermint smell filling the air, it just didn't calm me down. Not one bit. And the funny thing was, I even wanted to become one of the workers here when I was a child. Now how ironic is that!?

"P'? Are you okay?"

I snapped out of my daze when my companion waved a hand in front of my face. I let out a small chuckle and sat back in my chair, shifting a little to find a more comfortable position. I took a sip from the tea. It was still too hot. I blew on it twice, before placing it on the cupboard next to the small vase filled with red roses. I liked the smell of them. Sweet and strong, yet so fragile. Just like the owner of them.

"Sorry, I was pacing out a little. So a story huh? What kind of a story?"

I looked outside of the window. It was raining, dark rainclouds covering the sky, heavy rain pouring down and flooding the streets. It was summer already, but it had been raining for a few days now. It was depressing actually, we were supposed to have sunny beach days, but it made me happy, because I could spend more time here with my friend. There was a playground outside with a couple of swings and benches, now drained by the water. I saw a small boy all alone sitting on one of the benches. He was absolutely soaked by the rain, his head hung low, resting his hands on his lap and playing with his fingers. He couldn't have been older than 9 or 10. I admired his courage, sitting there and not even flinching when suddenly the sky roared and a loud crash of thunder made me shudder with fear. I had always been scared of the thunder. I wondered why the boy was sitting there. Alone, in the rain. It seemed like he was waiting for somebody.

"Tell me about yourself."

I turned and saw that the boy was leaning forwards on the bed, eyes impossibly wide and looking every bit of excited. I found him so adorable at that moment. He was pouting cutely and for a second he looked just like the small boy I had met years ago.

His request actually made me choke up a little. It wasn't like I had nothing to talk about myself. I had a lot to share, too much even, but it was the fact that before I had always told him some fantasy or fairytale story, but telling him a story as serious as my own life was completely new to me. It made me ponder whether I should tell him. Whether it was the right time. Whether he was ready to hear it all. Maybe it was still too soon?