It could be worse, that's all I'm saying.
At least they let me move around. At least I'm not strapped to a chair in a room all by myself. At least I can talk. And read. And walk around.
Some of them can't.
...
Drifting through the asylum, letting my mind wander... I've pretty much become accustomed to the strangeness of it all. Of what I see and hear. How am I supposed to know what's normal and what's not?
Today I saw this girl. She had bright red hair, kind of curly, but not frizzy. Looked as if she spent lots of time on it... But not today, as it appeared. It was just a bit too wild. With brown eyes... Really pretty brown eyes. Beautiful? Maybe. The kind of warm eyes that you could stare into and not get anywhere, because you knew she was hiding something and she wouldn't let anyone find out.
She was walking down the corridor near my room, with a doctor holding gently onto her arm and another doctor walking ahead. Her eyes, red, swollen eyes, darted everywhere... Tired, yet adgitated, wanting to take everything in. She didn't want to be here, she wanted to escape. And therefore, those warm brown eyes, despite the tears falling from them, would not look panicked and would not show fright.
Every so often she'd struggle, almost helplessly, and the doctor with his arm looped around hers would stop walking and wait until she calmed down. Sometimes he'd reach over and cover her mouth with his hand. She had freckles, I think.
They brought her to a room way down the hall from mine. Later, when the doctors left, I peeked through the window on her door and looked at her again. Her room was different than mine... She had a bed and a small desk pressed up against one wall. The desk had paper and books all across it. Big books.
She was sitting on the bed, with her legs over the side, staring at her toes. Smiling. And when she saw me out of the corner of her eye, she looked up and tilted her head. Smile gone. Same cold, determined expression I first saw her with. But... She must've noticed something that made her expression soften. Maybe the fact that I wasn't a doctor. Now she almost looked disappointed.
I left her alone then. At least I know where her room is. Gonna try to talk to her. Or communicate in some manner. |
Submission Name: Asylum Boy, Entry 14
