"Excuse me miss, can you sign in" The receptionist looked at me, her face laced with an epitome of annoyance. My face reigned a look of befuddlement.
"Oh uh yeah sorry" I signed the register for the records of each visitor's attendance. The woman takes a few glances at my face, her eyes search my face as she squints in recognition.
"Uhh.." she stutters. "First door down the hall" she swallows her words as she speaks.
"Thanks" I reply with my head down. I follow the child-painted footsteps on the floor and take the first door on my left. I hesitate before opening it. I don't bother knocking. She knows I'm coming.
"Grandma" I whisper as I stare at her un-functioning body laid on the bed. She smiles with watery eyes I can't help, but do the same.
"I'm sorry, this is my fault" I whisper as I hold her hand and her eyes water more. A nurse knocks the door. I wipe my tears and exit. I've never been good at goodbyes.
"I...I...I love you" she struggles to say with a little breath. I just smile and shut the door. (make the dialogue longer she just entered b)
"I love you too." I sigh a few feet away from the door.I make my way towards the exit until I see a familiar hallway from the distance. Its been a while since I've wondered the barriers of a prison I once called home. I trace the wall and my finger sinks into a mark I had scratched out once ago. 'Hope' a word reads under it 'It's all you have in this place'. I reach the end of the hallway. Before me lines a maze of halls. I turn back, hoping no one saw me or the CCTV hasn't caught a glimpse of me. I walk beyond a sign ' Keep out. Only members of staff may enter beyond this point'
'Psychiatric patients ahead!'
I scanned it, not taking in the words. I involuntarily push open the double doors, the smell of struggle welcoming me back. A room. Staring through transparent glass, I watch as his muscles flex each time he scribbles a new word on the torn paper. His jaw un-clenches and clenches, as if he's holding back words. Speak. Almost as if he could hear me he looks up to meet my gaze. His eyes shift between mine, his hands relaxing as he sits up in his chair. He's tired. He blinks slowly. His eyes darken as be begins to chew on his lip. Why can't I move? He brings his bottom lip between his teeth, hiding then revealing his lip ring. The man across him instructs him to do something, yet he doesn't, unfazed by his presence. Instead, he smiles at me.
Everyone in the room turns to look at me. My heart beat grows louder and as the man makes his way to the door I know it's time to leave. My footsteps are audible, as I'm out faster than I came. With shaky breaths I start again towards the exit.
The hallways are cramped by now and I feel as if everyone is watching me. I slip passed people muttering excuse me, making sure I get far away from that place. I can hear the mans voice. 'Stop her, come back. I just want to talk.' This only drives me to move faster. I pick up the pace and as I'm almost at a light jog I fall into someone.
"Aria get off me!" They whine. Aaron. I hug him. I've never been happier to see my older brother. He pushes me off him and we both scurry to our feet. He glares at me while dusting himself off before asking me am I ok. I wave him off and take the twix from his hand.
"You little b-"
"Language!" My mom scolds out of no where, scaring the living day lights out of us. She walks into our Grandmas room and Aaron doesn't wait to tackle me to the ground.
"Give it back bitch." he yells, while I slip from under him and sit on him. I stuff the chocolate into my mouth and stand up, just before my mum comes back outside.
"Act your age Aaron, stand up." she complains and I can't hold back my laughter. He puts his middle finger up, stands up and heads for the car. I follow behind him, laughing the whole way. The whole journey home consists of Aaron needing to act 23 and not 3 and when she drops him off and his apartment she lectures me on acting 19 and not 9. I barely listen to her. I turn my music up and stare outside the window until we get home.
That night I couldn't forget him. His face. A distant memory, yet an unforgettable one. The way he looked at me, as if he could see right through me. Light brown eyes that mesmerised me alone. His lips when he played with his lip ring. His hair fell effortlessly on his face, one side tucked behind his hair, with the other side hiding one of his eyes. I arranged another appointment to see my grandma tomorrow, though i'm not sure if it was her company that I desired...
YOU ARE READING
Impulses
Teen FictionAria had a hard life growing up. From putting her own Grandma in hospital, to spending months in a psychiatric ward or even living a life of terror in her childhood it's safe to say she isn't stable. Wondering through the halls of the Psychiatric w...