Another day at the Belleview Institution for the Mentally Troubled Youth, another life
wasted, another way to rot away. It was a lot like prison here, the monotone
cinder block walls and 24/7 supervision. The relentless amount of rain didn't
help either. I watched the rain rhythmically hit the windows in the Rec room.
Suddenly, the locked double entrance doors swung open. A new patient walked in
with two nurses, trailing behind him. He looked like death, maybe even more
miserable than death. His drenched ebony black hair hung into his puffy blood
shot eyes as he looked up at all the other patients, an expression fear and
anxiety plastered on his face

The nurses kept their distance, as if they were afraid of the young boy, “You must
be Frank!” a male voice said ecstatically gesturing, the boy, into the Rec
room. I watched him sit down. I looked away and focused on my sketchbook, I
watched my dull pencil make delicate graphite lines, illustrating my previous
terrors. I closed my eyes from lack of energy, images filled my head just from
the site of my eyelids, and I forced my eyes open and left the recreational
room running, running to the infirmary.
“What is wrong?” My Doctor asked me, taking notice of my panting and feverish
expression.
I pointed to the medicine cabinet, “I have to stay awake.” My body felt heavier, like I gained hundreds of pounds instantly. The doctor handed me pills, my vision was disoriented. I had no clear view of the pills, but I took them anyway. The doctor checked my blood pressure after I took the drug, he had to check.
“Everything checks out.” The doctor said, removing the tight fabric cuff off my bicep. I nodded in agreement. “You’re going have to sleep soon.” The doctor said, as I hopped off the table. I had to sleep, I didn’t want or need sleep.
“I don’t want to.” I whined, I sounded incredibly immature for my age. I started walking towards the door.
“Gee wait!” Doctor Leto followed after me. “I want you to go to the group discussion later, I think you’ll be a big part of the conversation, and we need you to start talking about your disorder.”
I turned around to show acknowledgement. ”I will come, which doesn’t mean I am talking about my dreams.” I finally left the infirmary, and felt a sudden rush of energy. I decided to save the adrenaline for when I really needed it. I walked towards the hospitals cafeteria.
“The staff was scared of everyone and everything that entered the double locked doors, especially the innocent ones.” the thought ran through my head” as I ignored the dinner line, I sat alone at a table, pulling out my small sketch book.
“Gee!” a voice said directly in my ear. I looked up to see who was talking to me. Issac sat beside me, staring at me. He dyed his hair, again. However he got a hold of the staining colors, baffled me, but I didn’t care enough to find out. I ignored him, and looked up to see my table be filled up. I looked up across from me to see the new boy, his eyes were no longer puffy, his hair was now dry.
I caught myself staring, at him. “I am Frank.” He said almost stuttering, but put the effort in not too, I looked down, at my sketch book. I flipped the page avoiding, the charcoal colored nightmares, that I illustrated myself. I decided to try to draw Frank. I analyzed is features,his eyes stood out the most to me; he had emerald green eyes, with specks
of gold below his iris that reminded me of an old movie. His eyes were like an
abyss, a bottomless pit with vibrant color, he had chiseled, nearly angelic
facial features, like a marble statue. I had look up repeativly, to make sure my sketch was accurate. “Let me see your sketch book.” Frank asked after watching my drawing process. I nervously handed him the book, no one in 8 years, dared, to look in my book. I turned my head, fearing his reaction. “Oh my god.” I heard, looking back at him. “Did you draw this?” He looked somewhat
bright, not stuttering.
He looked as if he was completely normal. I nodded,
reaching for my book back. I felt uncomfortable, no one ever looked at me positively. They thought of me as insane. Insane, suicidal, dangerous I was labeled countless negative adjectives. I shivered at the thoughts of my own mind.
The boy smiled, I smiled back. I didn’t like my smile, it felt too fake. I haven’t smiled since I was admitted here. I picked up my sketch book and pencils, and started walking towards my room. I didn’t feel like much small talk, and I wanted to use my energy before it ran out.
I felt a connection between Frank and I, not the whole romance, sparks fly garbage. I felt like I understood, what wild reason he was here, whatever it was, I felt like I knew.
“Gee wait up!” an unfamiliar voice yelled from behind me, I looked around to see Frank following me. I grunted at his use of my nickname, only my close so-called friends could call me Gee.”I was wondering if I could see some more of your art, It’s really good, and I feel like I can see what you are going through.”
I finally used the energy I had saved up, with anger, I raised my voice. “NO ONE WILL EVER UNDERSTAND OKAY?” I yelled. I yelled at the new boy.
He ran off the other way, “shit” I murmured to myself after scaring him away, I ruined the chance of any possible friends within his first week at Belleview.
I felt like a monster, and then realized I am a monster, I am the monster.
I walked into my room, and cleared off my bed that was once filled with terrifying terrors that my head composed. I pushed the papers aside to make room for new ones.
Self destruction wasn’t the answer, not tonight.
I drew on for hours and hours on end, until the pills wore off. I felt like a drag, as time got slower and slower. My eyelids felt heavy and so did my chest, I felt like I was being pulled down to my back.

A Demonic creature wrapped it’s large hand around my neck, squeezing. I was at a loss of breath. Hopeless. Helpless. Dying.

Notes

I want to update everyweek c: