Get Me Out of My Mind

As soon as the door was opened, cold air hit me in the face. I felt better, less nauseated. But I was really regretting wearing black jeans. They were killing me. My legs felt like they had been cooked, and the ground felt like jell-o from shifting to lose sand to hard tiled floor. The smell of bleach flooded the air and a desk with a little old lady that sat behind it. She smiled a welcoming smile, and we walked her way.
She told us the basics, talked to my parents about the camp. They seemed hesitant to leave me there, but there was nothing left for me to do. It was my last option besides Juvenile Hall.

I zoned out the whole time they were talking business. My mind was focused on that boy- the boy in the red rimmed glasses. His eyes, I remember them from somewhere. Even though I should probably dismiss the idea of knowing him before, it was near imposable for that to happen. I just couldn’t shake he idea.
“Ryan…”My mother called, I turned my gaze to her,
“Hmm?” I simply hummed, I didn’t feel like talking.
“She asked you a question,” she said harshly. The old lady’s eyes were staring me down; her glasses were big and round, making her eyes pop. It was sort of scary. She looked like she was shaking. What is a little old lady doing in a camp for bad kids? I might have judged a book by its cover but she was quite tiny.
“Excuse me, I might have spoken too softly,” She said, her voice a little shaky. “You’re in cabin five, with three other young men that we thought would suit you.” Suit me? She continued, “I’ll take you on a tour.” She said, pulling herself up by pushing up on the desk.
She had a cane, and used it for her week leg no doubt. We started with the area around the main office. There was a doctor’s office, a Library, a lunch/diner/breakfast room, bathrooms, and a couple offices for people I didn’t know. I have a feeling I will know all the staff here by the time I leave.
Leaving… Is that far in the future, or close? I hoped close…

By the time the tour was done, it was already five O’ clock and I was getting extremely tired and agitated. I wanted to lie down, take a nap, and eat something. I wanted to read or write, escape to a world that is entirely my own. I didn’t like reality and I always hoped that it might turn into my own world. It’s a stupid thing to hope for, and people don’t always understand when you’re by yourself, reading or writing, that you’re not alone and words are there for you. And this, this was definitely one of those moments where I wanted to escape to one of those places where a new story, a happy ending awaits for me. I’ve wished to stay a kid for as long as I could, and here comes the moment that everything I’ve ever wished for will go away, the moment where fantasy breaks and reality forms.

I had to be strong the moment my mom hugged me, and my father patted me on the back- who knew when I was going to see them again. Ever since I was born, they’ve been my shield and now I have to be my own.
I had to be strong, watching them walk out the door and leave me there, a tear or two falling down their faces. I did not cry, I didn’t have it in my anymore. I was so emotionally tried I didn’t have the willpower and strength to cry again. A bit mellow dramatic, that may be, but I found myself lost, and a feeling I had in my stomach told me it would all change from here, that everything would change.

~~~~~~
I was guided to the cabin I would be staying by a guard that worked there. My eyes had spotted the gun on his belt, the silver of it casting a beam of light into my eyes. It made me feel uneasy and venerable. The cabin was, indeed made out of logs. Why that had been was beyond me, and it was weird. Maybe this was actually a camp. While walking up the creaking stairs, I grabbed the railing while almost falling. A sharp pain pulsated through my hand. I quickly let go, and looked at my palm. There was a big red mark there and a splinter. A decently sized one too. Even though it hurt like a son of a bitch, I kept the pain to myself. I didn’t want to complain to the guard. All of the people that I meet that worked her scared me.

He unlocked the door with a key and I followed him into the room. Besides the wood smell, the room looked fairly nice and almost homey. There were two bunk beds, one on either side of the room. On the bottom of each bed was a small chalk board where names were written.
“Well, Ross, here it is.” He bellowed. His voice shaking the inside of my ear drums scaring me out of my thoughts. “This is YOUR key for the cabin. Their locked at all times for… reasons,” he turned to a huge chalk board on the side of the wall and pointed. “That’s this cabins schedule for this whole week. You’re supervisor for this cabin writes these and checks up on you guys. Her name is Miss Franks and my name is Mr. Don. Please, if you need anything come to me or her.” At least he was somewhat nice. “I’ll leave you alone now. Unpack,” he said pointing to my bags that where already brought up here, “or nap. Your cabin mates should be back shortly.” His booming voice faded and he left me there.

I looked around, the chalkboard being the first I looked at. One of the bunk’s chalkboards on the left side of the room said “Spencer Smith” with very neat hand writing. The bed was almost immaculate and covers all tucked in. Under that was the chalkboard that read “Jonathan Walker”, in very small hand writing I had to squint. The bed was messy and looked recently slept in. I then walked over to the other side of the room. On the top bunk above my soon to be bed, the chalkboard read “Brendon Boyd” in bubbly letters. The bed was fairly neat but there was no pillow. I didn’t think much of it.
I took time to memorize their names. My chalkboard was bare, and a piece a chalk was on the edge of it. I picked it up loosely, and diligently wrote out my name, ‘Ryan Ross’. My hand began to sting more and I dropped the chalk. It rolled under the bed before I could catch it. I instantly gave up. When I sat on the bed, it was hard as a rock then I slowly sunk into it.
I looked at my palm more carefully, it was inflamed. The splinter was in deep and had to be huge. I held my wrist with my other hand to try to distract myself from the pain. I neglected to hear the door unlock, and by the time I noticed it was already wide open. My eyes had to be playing a trick.

The boy with the red square glasses was standing awkwardly in front of me. He looked at my hand and I swiftly shut my fist. Those familiar eyes looked me up and down. He didn’t speak a word but only shut the door. He turned around to me and waved. I waved back and attempted to smile. I was too flustered.
“Hello.” I said, but he didn’t respond. He held up a finger as if to say, ‘one moment’, and rushed to one of the dressers, opened a door and pulled out a note book and pen. He wrote down a few lines, and then handed it to me. I read in neat printed hand writing, ‘Hello, I’m sorry, I don’t talk for personal reasons. I’m Brendon. It’s nice to meet you.’ a smiley face was written next to it. Didn’t talk?
“Oh, I’m sorry.” I said in a almost whisper. He shook his head, and took back the paper. A second later, he handed it back with a new set of words. ‘Don’t be. Don’t take it personal either. A lot of people do and it’s not like that. I just can’t bring myself to do so.’ I nodded. I smiled a real smile. Everything about this boy was so… familiar. I wish he would talk, but I respected his wishes. He smiled a toothy grin back, and it was gorgeous. He lifted his hand, hesitated for a moment and then grabbed my injured hand. He forced my fingers open then shook his head. He got up, retrieved something from on top of the dresser and came back, a pair of tweezers. I flinched. He looked me in the eyes and put a finger over his mouth signaling me to be quite. I began to get worried and I could tell he knew.
He took my hurt hand softly, his touch was electrifying. I shut my eyes and winced in pain when I felt the splinter being tugged at. But in a matter of five seconds, it was gone and so was the pain. I opened my eyes to see him smiling back at me. He had one of those smiles that just lit up the whole room. It made me feel better.
“Is it absolutely awful here?” I asked and he responded with a shake of his head. I looked down to our hands and he was still holding my hand in place. He let go and picked up the notebook and wrote down ‘It’s better than where I used to live.’
“What do you mean” I questioned. He looked shell shocked and lowered his head.

Just then, the creak of the door caught both of our attentions. Two people stood there. One was short, and looked quite muscular compared to myself, and the other was a bit taller and had striking blue eyes.
“Hello” they both said in sync.