Troubled Thoughts and the Self-Esteem to Match

Gabe

"Are you listening?" I heard his voice, but I didn't care to answer him, or even move in acknowledgment to his question. I didn't want to be here; I didn't want to be anywhere, except hanging by that rope I'd made three days ago. My fingers ran over the ridges on my neck, the imprints the rope left behind. I already memorized exactly how the wounds felt as my fingertips grazed over them, a feeling I would never forget, but I still found myself constantly running a finger across the arched line.
"Gabriel-" My new counselor began to sigh, but I instantly cut him off, growling "It's Gabe. Get it right." He was patient though, correcting himself to say "Gabe, I know this isn't easy, but the facility believed it was in your best interest that you be transferred to Block Eight. This is where the majority of our suicide patients are transferred."
This man was really pissing me off, especially referring to me as a suicide patient. "I'm not a fucking suicide patient. I'm a murderer who just so happened to steal a rope from the Inventory shed and tied it around my neck as tight as the damn thing could get."

"Yes." He retaliated, strumming his fingers on his desk impatiently. "I know what you're here for. I have your file right here." He paused to prod a finger at a thick Manila folder on the edge of his desk. "But you did attempt suicide, so that's why you've been transferred to me." I didn't care to reply at the moment. I shrank lower into the large leather chair, the hood of my jacket shadowing my face slightly. I examined him for the tenth time since I was placed in front of him. His hair was short and choppy, tinted a deep black, whether it was natural or not I couldn't tell. He had semi-delicate facial features, not so much as a stubble on his face. I couldn't help but notice his teeth when he talked; they were small, almost like baby teeth. He definitely looked odd.
"So uh.. Mr..." I leaned forward to look at the plaque on his desk, that spelled out his strange name.
"Mr.Way. You don't really look like the counselor type. More like a cheap imitation of a rock-star. Why are you working here? Couldn't make it in the music industry?" I rudely interrogated, hoping to either irritate or sock him in his ego.

Unfortunately though, he answered back all too professionally, not letting it show if I did bother him in the slightest. "Actually, I was attending an Art School in New York and one of my friends snapped. He killed a person I was acquainted to and it changed me. I felt that I was meant to help others, in hopes of preventing something like that. That's why I'm here, if you must know."
I didn't care to say anything else. I hated when people tried to sound so high and mighty, like he was doing. I didn't want to be transferred to a different block. I'd been through that enough already. Why didn't they just let me strangle from that damn rope? I had absolutely no point in being here. It wasn't like anyone was benefiting from my existence.
"Now, why don't we go to the Meeting room so I can introduce you to your new block-mates." He suggested, having the nerve to fucking smile at me like everything was fine and dandy. "You can take your block and your sick little patients and blow them out your ass." I spat, before standing and heading for the door. If I had to stay in this stupid place, I was going to pick the room, and it wasn't going to be with anyone else.

"Gabe! Wake up!" A voice yelled over my head, just barely reaching me in my sleep. I let one eye peel open to the blurred world perceived through maladjusted vision. I could see a figure over-head, blinking several times until my eyes adjusted to the light seeping in through the barred window. William came into focus, a serious look to his face. "What?!" I whined, swiping the back of my hand against my face in attempt to wake myself up more efficiently. "You need to get to the living room. Mr.Way's about to take Ryan to the hospital." He demanded, and the words he spoke were just what I needed to pull me from my bed. "What?! What's wrong?" I almost yelped, not bothering to pull my shirt or pants on before hurrying to the door. Bill was right behind me as I pulled the door open, the cold air beginning to nip at any exposed skin on me.
"Well, he started throwing up really bad last night, and was super fatigued. He was in the Living room about half an hour earlier when he felt like he was going to puke again, but before he even made it to the bathroom, he passed out." He filled me in on the crucial details, I unable to retain myself from snapping "Why the hell didn't someone wake me up sooner?"

We passed the first turn in the hallway, that led toward the offices, as he retorted "Well, we were all worried about Ry. The last thing on my mind was 'oh, I should go wake Gabe up'." "Great, thanks." I sarcastically jeered back, passing the Meeting room. Everyone was gathered in the Living Room except Bob, where he may have been I didn't really know, Ryan stretched out on the couch with a washrag smoothed over his forehead. "Is he okay?" I inquired, catching everyone's attention.
"We don't know." Danny answered first, rising from the floor and slipping over to stand by me. "I'm sure Billvy told you the basics of what happened and all that, but we're not too sure what's wrong with him. It could be food poisoning or something, but Mr.Way's taking him to be checked out just in case." Breathing these words out, he crossed his thick arms over his chest while his eyes ran over the scene, the rest of the group sitting around the couch like a pack of Wildebeests protecting an injured baby from a hungry lion.
"Oh.." I nodded, calming down a bit. "Scoot over." I commanded to frank and Travis as I scuttled over to the couch, lifting Ry's legs and sitting, before returning his legs back so that they were now stretched across my knees. He rolled his eyes toward me as if to say 'Oh, there you are. What took you so long?', I forcing a small tug on the corners of my mouth. "Where the hell is Bob? He was just supposed to be packing a set of clothes for Ry in case he had to stay in the hospital over-night. How can that take ten minutes?" Brendon growled angrily, a tone I hardly ever heard his voice strained into. He was on the opposite end of the couch, with Ryan's head poised in his lap, his fingers running through Ry's hair as if to comfort the sick one, though Ry seemed less worried than Brendon. It didn't take much to see the apprehension tethered into Bren's face and muscles.
I didn't blame him though; He and Ryan were the epitome of a perfect couple and he would usually freak out if Ry had so much as a cold.

"Sorry I took so long." Bob murmured, appearing in the doorway with a small bag clutched in his hand. "I was trying to find something like sweat pants. You know, comfortable stuff." He sat the bag in an empty arm chair before standing back, distancing himself from everyone like he was afraid he would mess something up by getting too close. "Now where's Mr.Way at?" Brendon continued to hiss, growing more distressed with each passing moment that our most fragile block-mate wasn't receiving medical attention. On cue, Mr.Way's footfalls could be heard echoing down the hallway, coming closer. He was speaking as soon as he was in sight.
"Okay, I told the head of the facility what's happening and how I had to take a patient to the hospital, so we have the okay now."
"Good." Someone breathed, Bden and I helping Ryan sit up. "You guys are going to have to behave yourselves, because Mrs.Dougan is watching you, understand?" There was an implied yes that floated around the room as Ryan was pulled to his feet, we following like a somber funeral procession as Brendon aided him in walking, since his tiny legs didn't seem too sure if they had all the energy to carry him to the vehicle. I hurried to slip on a pair of Vans as everyone shuffled out the door, unwilling to let Mr.Way take it from there alone.

The furthest we could take him was to the side gate, close to the back of our block, we unable to step outside of the fence. It was almost sad to watch the look painting across Ryan's face as we got this far. He wasn't very accustomed to being without Brendon in situations like this, and parting with him was less than desirable. They connected at the mouths for several moments before moving apart, Mr.Way's arm curling around Ryan's waist to help him through the gate and toward his vehicle,just barely remembering to snatch the bag Bob had prepared for them.
"I love you, Ryro!" Brendon called anxiously after them, wringing his hands together with enough force than his skin began to grow inflamed. Poor guy. He was really a mess, watching the SUV crank, slowly backing out of it's parking space and beginning to creep toward the closest exit from the parking lot. Nobody knew if they should say anything or not as we watched the vehicle disappear around the curve out of the facility's vicinity.
"Don't worry, Man." I exhaled, tossing my arm around Brendon's shoulders in hopes of comforting him. "He's gonna be fine. They're just gonna give him some medicine and tell him to drink plenty of fluids, and rest, and he'll be back before you know it."
He nodded half-heartedly, deep brown eyes still watching forward as if the automobile was going to re-appear at any moment, Ryan jumping out and telling him it was just a joke, and that he was fine.

I wished I could take his anxiety in his place; I really hated seeing him so unhappy, a stark contrast to his usual demeanor. "Gabe's right." Bill cut in, moving so that he was standing on Brendon's other side, his mouth morphing into a crooked, fake smile that was supposed to make Brendon cheer up. It didn't affect Brendon, but seeing it seemed to make me feel a bit happier.
"Come on. Let's get back inside before we freeze." Danny suggested, motioning for us to follow him.

"Gabe?" Bill's voice caught my attention when the other voices couldn't. "Huh?" I glanced toward him, glimpsing his curious expression as I was brought back to reality. I hadn't really left it; I saw everything that happened in the time I'd been spaced out, it just didn't quite reach my brain, because it was occupied by other things. Why the hell had I dreamed what I did? It wasn't like anything happened yesterday to bring it about, to my awareness.
I found myself grazing my fingers back and forth over my neck, as if I could still plainly feel the swelled embroidery from the rope's burns, though it was more subconscious than anything. "Are you okay?" William inquired, almost as if he was worried.
"Yeah." I dismissed it quickly, not caring to spill my guts to him in some stupid therapy session; after all, my counselor wasn't even here.
"You're being kinda..spacey." He observed intently, his honey brown eyes reflecting the fluorescent light above in some odd swirl, that seemed to momentarily change him as a whole. "I'm fine." I offered, before burrowing deeper into the quilt we were knotted under, the block being so cold at the moment that even I was suffering from it.
"Stop moving." Brendon whined, snuggling against my side desperately, trying to steal what bit of body warmth I had. I would have usually told him to shut-up and deal with what he got, but I couldn't force myself to be rude to him today.
He would have been curled up to Ry instead, obviously, but he didn't have that option, so I was happy he was at least associating with us right now, instead of locked in his room melting from lack of Ryro.

"Gabe doesn't have enough fat anywhere on his body, besides his head." Danny sniggered from his spot on one of the arm-chairs, cradling Trav with him. "I have plenty of chubs on me though. You can always come over here with Trav and I if it's warmth you're looking for." Brendon scrunched his face up as if to consider the offer, before sighing "I would take you up on that, but I fear I have no strength to move that far." He was really trying to act less worried than what emanated off of his skin, I had to give him kudos for that, but damn, he wasn't doing so hot.
I squished him against my chest then, dramatically yelling "Fuck off Danny! He's mine!" A dry chuckle vaulted from Brendon's mouth, but it wasn't working well enough, so I gave up, returning my attention to the television. It was on some stupid reality show about a bunch of fake-ass, tanorexic whores, which I would never call entertaining tv. I flipped it over to Everybody Hates Chris.
I loved this show, so it wasn't moving from this channel.

Before I could watch it though, a sudden thought struck me, and before I could even think about if I should say it or not, the joke was bubbling to the tip of my tongue.
"Yo Danny, I have a good one. So here's how it goes: Two gay guys are in the shower getting after it. Guy one is the bitch, right? And Guy two is the pitcher. So anyways, they're doing it, and all of a sudden, the phone starts ringing. Guy two has been waiting for an important phone call, so he jumps out of the shower. Before he goes to get it, he tells Guy one 'Don't do anything until I get back.' So he goes and answers the phone, and when he comes back, he finds that Guy one jizzed everywhere, so he's all 'I thought I told you not to do anything! What happened?!' What does Guy one say?"
Everyone was staring at me, unsure of where this was going, but obviously wanting to know the punchline. "Uh, I dunno." Danny answered. I couldn't keep the grin consuming my face stifled as I dished out the punch-line, laughing "He says 'I farted'."

Danny instantly went into hysterics, laughing so loud, it's almost over-powering. Joining him were Travis, Frankie, Bob, and even Brendon, along with myself of course.
We all laughed at the corny joke forever, but of course Bill was the prude that jeered "I don't see how that's funny. I think it's more offensive than anything." Hearing him say this instantly ripped my laughter out of my chest. Was he being serious?
"Guillermo, are you fucking serious?" I yelped incredulously, turning an instantly serious expression his way. He didn't show any signs of joking though, so I practically slung my arm from under the cover to point at the rest of the group. "I just told that joke to five gay guys, and even they laughed, okay? How is it offensive if even they laughed?" He didn't seem to have an answer to this, so he shrugged his tiny shoulders instead, pulling the quilt up to his chin in defeat. Did he just look for any excuse to be uptight, and to keep himself from actually cracking a smile?
The show returned from a commercial break, catching the groups attention, so I took the chance to do something rather unconventional. Under the cover, I snaked my hand sneakily over his leg, finding his frozen hand and capturing it within mine. As soon as I did this, he was flashing curious, border-line worried eyes toward me. I squeezed his fingers in hopes of conveying a message to him that said to lighten up, that he wasn't alone, if he would remember.
The rest of the room still had their eyes glued to the tv screen, so I leaned closer to William, he not moving as I did. I placed my ear close to his mouth, whispering "Sonría Guillermo. Es más especial que usted piensa."
He looked like he hadn't exactly understood what I'd just said, but the corners of his mouth turned up just a fraction of a degree regardless, a motion that no one else would have caught had they not been watching closely.