The Blood, Sex and Booze: Boy called Kill.

Sunlight swept across the floor of my room. The bars upon my windows cut even lines in its golden center and the fluttering of the blind produced eerie shadows.

It was twelve noon. Patients were all up and moving around while nurses preformed their hourly checks. Yet, I still lay were I was, in my safe room, wrapped in my woven blanket brought into me by my mother and wearing my boyfriends 'slugger' jersey.

I had been in Springmount for a month and I still hadn't made a single attempt to talk to anyone. I didn't want to move amongst the other 'crazies', I didn't want friends or acceptance; I wanted my life back.

A tray of yesterday’s untouched supper sat on the table along with a packet of new cigarettes, which, I'm sure, had lain there since I had entered. I had also lost severe amounts of wait from my near starvation and my fragile bones protruded from my skin uncomfortably into the mattress on which I lay.

Dr Autumn was the only one I spoke to. She listened and understood about my family, about the death of my beloved father and about the heartache that followed. She didn't judge or make faces at me; Yet, I still found it hard to talk about Tre.

She pressed me to tell her everything but thinking about it made my heart break all over again and I would find myself unable to breathe. Three out of five times I had entered that room; I have left in someone else’s arms.

A knock on my door roused me from my thoughts. A nurse popped her head around the barrier and smiled sweetly. Sadistic bitch.

"Mr Armstrong, Autumn would like to see you now."

I sighed and got out of my bed. She handed me my hooded sweatshirt, which was three sizes too big, and I slipped on my creepers before she ushered me from the room.

"How are you feeling today?" she asked.

I nodded rather than replied. The sound of her heels clicking the tiles made my bones twitch and even the elegant swing of her hips made me want to kill her.

It also made me miss Mike. I hadn't seen him in a week and, Christ, I missed him so much. The nurse watched me carefully, and recognizing my pained expression, patted me gently on the shoulder. I flinched away from her touch.

"I'm sorry." she whispered.

The rest of our journey was spent in silence. She kept her hands to herself and I kept mine tucked beneath my arm pits. We passed many of the other nurses, doctors and patients but I made no effort to greet them.
The patients weren't crazy, well not how you would imagine 'crazy'. They are long term insomniacs, MPD suffers, victims of abuse and other such things; all of which had really fucked with their head. I guess you can say that's what happened to me. Long term psychological shit had finally driven me insane.

She left me at the door of Autumn’s office and, as usual, I strolled inside without pausing to knock; let’s just say I had given up on common courtesy.

"Ah Billie Joe. Please take a seat."

She gave me her best fake smile, gesturing to the seat in front of her desk. I sat, crossed my legs and began to pick at the edge of my fingernails. Immediately she began into her usual jabber about ‘how was I feeling?’ ‘Was the medication helping?’ and ‘Had I made any friends?.’ I nodded and shook my head at the appropriate intervals all the while ignoring her words. On and on she went, her voice just a simple buzzing in the air around me. The sudden silence roused me from my own daydream.

“To day is the day Mr Armstrong.” She said, a smile no longer tugging at the edges of her plumb lips, “It has been a month and you haven’t spoken about what drove you to this. It’s about time we got to the problem so that we can start finding the solution.”

I watched her for a moment, watched how she twiddled the pen between her slender fingers, how she tapped her foot and gazed at me from behind her designer glasses. Her eyes told me everything I needed to know; she meant it.

“What if I don’t want to talk?” my voice was small and hoarse from lack of use, but I continued despite my frail vocal cords, “Y-you can’t force me.”

“No, I can’t. But you know yourself that it is for your own health. The sooner we help you, the sooner we can send you on your way.”

My finger nails, again, became my main attraction. I picked at their edges until the skin lifted and the pink flesh was revelled.

“Billie Joe?” I gazed up at her, “In your own time.”

“T-this is hard.”

“I know.”

“You aren’t allowed to laugh.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it. I take this very seriously.”

I took a deep breath and grasped my shaking hands tightly together. I met her hazel gaze, her kindly sympathetic eyes stilled my furious heart by a fraction; a fraction which was most certainly welcome.

“It was near two years ago when…it started.”