The last week in the hospital in a nutshell.
"Good you're up." He walked back over to me, sitting in the chair next to my bed.
"Look Spencer, I really want to thank you for savi-" He smacked me on the head. "What the fuck?" I screamed, and he gave me a stern look.
"Pot? Really? In my fucking home? After I took you in? What the hell were you thinking?" Oh, that's why he hit me.
"I wasn't thinking really." I said with a shrug. He gave a small sigh.
"Well I hope you're happy, because now you get to go to a damned juvenile hall. And I think a pretty boy like you would get killed within the first day." The person in the bed next to me chuckled a little at that, and Spencer looked at him. "What's your name kid?" Spencer said and I noticed that it was still the blond before, relaxing on his bed like he was on vacation instead of in a hospital bed.
"My friends call me Blast." He said with a shrug.
"I thought you got out today." I said with a confused expression. Spencer's face seemed to show the exact same confusion on it.
"My mates decided I needed more time in this hell hole to recover. They know me to well." He said, toying with a knife. Spencer looked at me and I just shrugged. "You know, a kid like you will probably get killed within the first hour. I've been in your exact spot, and let me tell you. It is not a pretty sight. But I guess you'll get used to it. You have what, a month in that joint? I bet you'll get out early."
"Anyway, do you need anything Brendon? I mean, other than narcotics?" I pointed to a bag that my social worker had brought in earlier in the day. To early in the day. "Oh." He got up, walking over to my few belongings before picking up the violin. "You play?" He asked and I nodded. He walked back over to me, violin case in hand and set it in front of me. "What else do you play." I rambled off the different instruments, tuning the strings while I did so.
"Are you single?" Blast asked and both of our heads turned to him. I nodded and he seemed to be contemplating something. "Okay." He shrugged and went in his own world once more. I started to play and Spencer looked shocked. I had to assume it was because he didn't expect me to be able to play that well. Which was kind of true at the time, considering the fact that I still felt like shit. I finished the song and Spencer stood again. I handed him my violin case and he put it back down where it belonged.
"I'm going to go. I think I might visit you a few more times, since you'll probably be at least a little lonely."
"Oooo, maybe someday we could play cards." Blast said from his side of the room. I laughed a little and Spencer sighed, giving a small nod.
"Right. Okay. I'm off then." He walked out of the room and I looked over to Blast, who was smiling and giving a small laugh.
"He seems like a nice fellow." Blast said and I nodded.
"He saved my life."
"Hey mate, come over here and we can play war." I nodded and stood, dragging my iv drip with me. He pulled out a deck of cards and we sat crisscross face to face. It was kind of funny really, I had only ever played war with myself. And I couldn't help but find myself a little excited at the thought of getting to play with another person. We talked while we played, and I, surprisingly enough, manged to stay in the lead the majority of the time.
I realized that the next few days continued in that fashion. I played cards with Blast, who really was willing to play just about anything as long as it involved a deck, and we talked. The worst part of it was probably the part where we became close. I met all of his friends, each one having ridiculous names just like him. His brother was a redhead that had the same moss green eyes that swirled with blue. His hair was choppy, and though it was shorter than his brothers, it was still long. He went by the name Noise, and had to many piercings and tattoos to count.
One of his friends went by the name Ruckus, a boy with green and blue hair that was spiky in the back. He also had sleepy brown eyes, and sleeves, though he didn't have very many piercings. Ruckus was always accompanied by a feminine boy that insisted on being called Shockwave. He was a shorter boy, not as strong as his blue haired counterpart, but he did look fairly...nice. He had dirty dirty blond hair, and bright blue eyes that shined like crystals, along with very few tattoos. Though I noticed one of his tattoos was a spider that was on his right shoulder, and when he stood next to Ruckus shoulder to shoulder, it almost looked like the spider was crawling into the web tattoo that was apart of his boy's sleeve.I was told by Blast that they were all in a band together. Though, it wasn't that much of a surprise to me.
I told Blast my story, and the next day he was gone. It was one of the worst feelings in the world to wake up in an empty hospital room. I didn't do anything that day. In fact, the only time I moved is when I absolutely had to. Which wasn't that often since I didn't eat or drink much. The food in the hospital was terrible, most of it tasted rotted or stale.
There was a therapist one day. She said that she was sent by my goddamned social worker and I just nodded politely at her. She renewed my prescription for Zoloft, and gave me a new one for Ritalin. On top of those pills I had the ones that the hospital gave me. Two for pain, and one to make everything go together without battling it out. I guess it was for 'my own good.' Like that was going to stop me from hating it. So it was seven pills once a day, everyday. The good news was once I was out of the hospital it would only be four pills each day. Of course, like all things in my life, that doubled as bad news since it meant that I would be in extreme pain when I got out, not having pain killers to stop it.
Then again, I WAS going to go to a place with so many kids that had done illegal drugs that it would be impossible to not run into them.
That was probably the only thought that got me through the rest of the week.
Spencer visited somewhat regularly. And we became, friends. Not close friends, in fact, it was barley above the level of acquaintances. But I guess you could still call it friends. I didn't really know how I felt when he had first said that we were kind of friends now. Okay, so I did know how I felt. I was happy, yet terrified. I had this nagging feeling at the back of my mind that told me he was going to leave, like everyone else. I knew I should have listened to the nagging feeling and pushed him away knowing it would be the only way I could avoid him, but I didn't. I felt so....safe with him. It was nice having a friend that I knew was going to last, even if it was only a surface friendship.
A week flew by faster than I had originally thought, and when the day came that I had to be sent off to the juvenile detention hall or whatever it was called, I couldn't help but feel sick and well, terrified. I'm not sure why, but those two emotions seem to be my reaction to just about everything, and I can honestly say that it's for good reasons.
An odd man came in my room the day I had to leave, saying that he was going to be the one who was going to take me to the place I dreaded to go. As we walked out to his car I couldn't help but notice he looked like an ex-cop, but I thought better of asking him about it as he put my two bags in the back of his car. We drove for about twenty minutes until he finally pulled up to a place that was surrounded by trees. He pulled into the drive which lead to a gate. The person running the gate seemed to have known him and let it go open without a word. There was about a minute of driving just by trees until we reached the actual building.
This happened to be the part that I dreaded the most.
The building was tall and seemed to leer over me. It looked dull and grey, almost like it was colorless. Actually, the building manged to make everything seem colorless. I don't even think a hippie with a rainbow van filled with enough grass to last a lifetime could mange to make the building or anything around it look colorful. All of the windows had large metal bars on them, and it looked like a prison. Well, maybe not a prison. Prison's at least have people in orange jumpsuits walking around.
As I stared at the building I heard screaming inside. It sounded like someone was getting beat to death. I bit my bottom lip, not wanting to walk through the doors.
"Keep moving kid." The man who had brought me to my own personal hell said from behind me as he carelessly dropped my few belongings on the ground. I picked them up and slowly started to walk towards the doors. Each step echoed, giving me a haunting reminder about what was happening.
I opened the doors with an immense set of dread.
PartyPoison:You're welcome. I'm glad I'm updating as much as I am. It means that I'm not totally broken. Even if I'm not supposed to technically be alive right now.
Yay for surviving something that should have killed me. :)
AnotherKnifeInMyHand:Yeah, that explains this length to. Oh wait...this one's kind of just a filler. Eh, the next one will be better hopefully.
Katrina_Adams:I didn't update as fast as I should have. I'm sorry. Forgiveness?
marissasorrentino:It should get even more interesting as it goes on. I can already tell you right now that the next chapter will be....odd. But then again, it is ME that's writing, so it's not that much of a surprise that it's going to be odd.
Again, thank you guys so much for reviewing, it makes me feel fantastic. All though for right now, you probably are slightly irritated by the fact that all of my chapters recently have been incredibly short. (I'm so sorry.) I'll work on it, and the next one will (hopefully)be better.