Walls

Chapter 8 - My metaphorical frying pan

Ray

Out of the frying pan, into the fire, that's what they say isn't it?

My metaphorical frying pan being the Alvarez house and the fire I'd recklessly got myself tossed into was this damn hospital.

I hate hospitals. Can't stand them. So obviously I'm just overjoyed at the fact I'm currently in one.

I'm fine, why won't they just let me leave!

"Stop staring at the wall like you are thinking of all the possible places to hide the body after you've killed someone." Sarah snapped at me.

Why won't she shut up?

"Just go to sleep! For goodness sake, they said they'd let you go tomorrow evening."

But I want to leave now. I don't fucking like it here.

I had to bite my toung to stop me from saying that out loud. I didn't want her to know anything about me. About what I thought. Instead I stayed silent, my eyes never straying from the wall.

However I did allow myself a moment of satisfaction when I heard Sarah sigh with frustration and shift position in her chair, presumably trying to take her own advice and get some sleep.

I don't know why but pissing her off was kind of fun. It was fast becoming one of my favorite hobbies.

And I didn't have hobbies.

I lost almost all understanding of the word fun the day mum died.

I quickly shook my head to clear my thoughts, which were heading down a dark path. I knew from experience that the only place this path lead to was a dark pit of despair, and once you fall in the steep walls make it hard to climb out. They make it hard to find the light as people like to say.

I knew I didn't want to go back there again. Therefore I had to stop my thoughts right here, right now.

Easier said than done.

But still I settled down under the itchy hospital sheets and tried to think of rainbows and ponies as I drifted into the blissful unconsciousness of sleep.

......

It was around 8 o'clock before they let me out the next day. By then I was in such a bad mood that not even Sarah tried to speak to me.

"We've cleared out a room for you, down the other end of the hall". Sue informed me as I walked in through the front door.

"Thanks". I mumbled and proceeded to stomp up the stairs and down the hall into my "room".

They walls were cream and I could actually taste the dust in at air. Lovely.

But still, there was only one single bed, meaning that I was getting this room to myself. I walked over to my suitcase which had been placed on the duvet. Rummaging through I quickly found one of my favorite hoddies and pulled it on, before dumping the suitcase on the floor and clambering into bed.

The hoodie was comfy and smelt like home so I clung to that as I closed my eye and tried to let sleep take over.

"Sorry to disturb you man, but I was told to come and apologise for the dust. This was the play room, so it hasn't been used in ages".

I looked up to see Peter standing acwardly by the door. Raising an eyebrow I slowly sat up, my questioning gaze fixed on him.

"What?" he asked defensively.

"Man?" Him calling me "man" was just weird.

Peter smiled nervously and shook his head. "I don't know, I've always wanted to say that, like they do in the movies. It seemed appropriate at the time. Although now I see what you mean; it sounded much better in my head".

"Now you sound like an Alvarez: using big words I cant understand". I knew I was being rude but I couldn't help myself. Not only had he interrupted my sleep, but he had also basically insinuated that I was a chav.

I knew exactly what words like 'apropriate' meant but if he was going to call me a chav, I was going to call him a snob. However even as I was thinking this I felt a small wave of guilt pass over me when I saw the hurt look in Peter's eyes.

"Note to self, do not call Ray 'man'". Peter mumbled to himself, then a little louder he spoke to me again, "Yeah so again sorry for the dust, and please, the doctors said you have to rest, so no more escape attempts".

"No promises". But I could already feel myself drifting off. Maybe I should leave plotting my next Houdini move until tomorrow.