Outlaws
Too many different shades of sh*t
Briiinng
"You have reached the number of Margaret Way. Please leave your name, contact number, and a message after the tone."
Beep
The voice of a middle aged woman spoke with clarity, confidence, and seriousness.
"Hello, this is the South Brookwood Psychiatric Hospital reception desk. I understand you and your husband had some questions reguarding admitting your teenagers as inpatients. Judging by the information you have given me, they would be given immediate psychotherapy and placed into the 'severe' ward. Please contact us at 201-189-HELP from 9 AM to 9 PM on weekdays or 12 PM to 6 PM on weekends. Thank you and have a nice day."
My face flushed and all air escaped my lungs. My breath went heavy and I felt a clutching feeling in my throat as red liquid forced it's way out of my mouth and onto the spotless white ceramic floor. Black specks flashed in front of my eyes, blinding me and I couldn't hold myself up.
Gerard knew I was going to pass out and caught me, easing me down slowly. For what seemed like an eternity, I wasn't anywhere, a black pit where I was falling. Black had swallowed me whole, surrounding me until I could make out far away breathes that grew louder every second. When I realized I had traveled back, we remained still, speechless, justing breathing in the sickly iron odor and replaying the message of Hell in our minds.
Slowly, I begin to regain my eyesight back and the feeling in my head. I sat up, knowing he feared I would fall back down. I didn't care about that now. We both knew the significance of this message. Gerard and I couldn't stay here, at the wim of our parents. I imagined the hospital, where they controlled every aspect of your day, down to what thoughts they programmed in your damaged mind. Where every word and how you say it would be recorded and analyzed for future reference.
I could sense the hurt swelling up inside of him like a time bomb on it's last second intact. "Those mother fucking backstabbers! They're our parents, meaning they should protect us, not send us away where we're most vulnerable!" He raged, kicking the door and leaving a noticeable dent. Then, with a calmer voice added factually, "We're getting out of here, Mikey. And I'm not talking about in a day or two. I'm talking about now."
I nodded solemnly. "Okay, we need to only pack vitals or what's most important to us. We'll take all the cash we can find, we'll be needing it. Two duffel bags each is about all we can take, so lets make sure we don't take shit we'll regret taking later."
With my palms, I steadily worked my way up, with Gerard's hands outlining my body like a safety net. As funny as this sounds, Gerard was more protective than me than our mother and father ever were combined. And I always admired that, trying to reflect it right back at him.
As he turned to go I splurted out, "Gerard?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you. I don't think there's a brother as caring as you."
"I love you too." He smiled slighlty, then hurried away.
We cleaned up the blood and headed for our room, the first and last thing our parents every gave us other than worry and frightful glances.
"You have reached the number of Margaret Way. Please leave your name, contact number, and a message after the tone."
Beep
The voice of a middle aged woman spoke with clarity, confidence, and seriousness.
"Hello, this is the South Brookwood Psychiatric Hospital reception desk. I understand you and your husband had some questions reguarding admitting your teenagers as inpatients. Judging by the information you have given me, they would be given immediate psychotherapy and placed into the 'severe' ward. Please contact us at 201-189-HELP from 9 AM to 9 PM on weekdays or 12 PM to 6 PM on weekends. Thank you and have a nice day."
My face flushed and all air escaped my lungs. My breath went heavy and I felt a clutching feeling in my throat as red liquid forced it's way out of my mouth and onto the spotless white ceramic floor. Black specks flashed in front of my eyes, blinding me and I couldn't hold myself up.
Gerard knew I was going to pass out and caught me, easing me down slowly. For what seemed like an eternity, I wasn't anywhere, a black pit where I was falling. Black had swallowed me whole, surrounding me until I could make out far away breathes that grew louder every second. When I realized I had traveled back, we remained still, speechless, justing breathing in the sickly iron odor and replaying the message of Hell in our minds.
Slowly, I begin to regain my eyesight back and the feeling in my head. I sat up, knowing he feared I would fall back down. I didn't care about that now. We both knew the significance of this message. Gerard and I couldn't stay here, at the wim of our parents. I imagined the hospital, where they controlled every aspect of your day, down to what thoughts they programmed in your damaged mind. Where every word and how you say it would be recorded and analyzed for future reference.
I could sense the hurt swelling up inside of him like a time bomb on it's last second intact. "Those mother fucking backstabbers! They're our parents, meaning they should protect us, not send us away where we're most vulnerable!" He raged, kicking the door and leaving a noticeable dent. Then, with a calmer voice added factually, "We're getting out of here, Mikey. And I'm not talking about in a day or two. I'm talking about now."
I nodded solemnly. "Okay, we need to only pack vitals or what's most important to us. We'll take all the cash we can find, we'll be needing it. Two duffel bags each is about all we can take, so lets make sure we don't take shit we'll regret taking later."
With my palms, I steadily worked my way up, with Gerard's hands outlining my body like a safety net. As funny as this sounds, Gerard was more protective than me than our mother and father ever were combined. And I always admired that, trying to reflect it right back at him.
As he turned to go I splurted out, "Gerard?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you. I don't think there's a brother as caring as you."
"I love you too." He smiled slighlty, then hurried away.
We cleaned up the blood and headed for our room, the first and last thing our parents every gave us other than worry and frightful glances.