Run

Chapter Two: The New Kid

I leaned on the counter in the entryway of the building and stared distantly at the doors. Thomas Veigleman walked up to me. He was one of the clipboards that annoyed me most. He didn’t know sign language and I always had to actually write what I wanted.

“What are you doing?” He asked me, leaning next to me. I reached for my notepad and a pen, huffing in frustration because I didn’t feel like writing that day. I scribbled quickly on the parchment and showed it to him.

New guy

He nodded and stayed silent for a while. Of course, he decided to talk again. I huffed again as he inhaled to speak.

“Hey, are you sure you want to keep this up?” He asked.

Keep what up?

I wrote, though I had a feeling I knew what he meant. He sighed.

“You know, the whole ‘Someone’s coming after me so I have to stay here and not talk because they’ll find me’ act.” He said. I rolled my eyes. How many times did I have to explain this for it to get into their sculls?

It’s not an act, idiot. I’m not insane. Someone IS coming after me. I can’t talk because if I do, they’ll be able to find me. I’ve told you this plenty of times, why don’t you understand?!

I wrote roughly against the paper, almost ripping it with the tip of the pen. He sighed and looked away, not believing me…again. I grumbled in my head for a couple of minutes while I waited.

Finally the sound of car tires against dry earth graced my ears and I perked up a bit. I had heard everything about this kid. That he killed his family, he can turn his head all the way around, he eats human flesh and that he devoured his father’s brain. The usual. All of which were lies, of course. From what I had gathered from the staff, he was a sixteen-year-old abuse victim who was afraid of human contact and that’s pretty much all I knew. It was infuriating! I hated not knowing about a person before they came to Vicfern’s.

When the doors opened I was expecting a thin, jumpy, boy, haunted and bearing the expression a prairie dog or ground squirrel after it’s companion has been snatched by a falcon. That is not what came through the entry.

Instead, what came through the sliding glass was a young man, lean, but built, with a couple tattoos littering his body. From the few gruesome scars I could see, I assumed the poor kid was covered in them. The first one I noticed ran from the left corner of his mouth all the way up to his left ear. The next one, on the top of his right hand, was in the shape of an ‘X.’ Finally I saw it. On his left forearm, scars made of childish disjointed writing spelled out the word UNLOVABLE. For some reason, that really pissed me off. I wasn’t sure why, but it actually made me really angry. I mean, what the hell? He was going to have to look at that for the rest of his life. I felt a surge of anger and, could it be? sympathy as I looked at the boy. His dark green eyes filled with misery and hatred as he glared at me. What the hell did he have against me? I hadn’t even done anything to him! Wait…why the hell do I care?! What is it with this kid? He made me feel emotion…well, that was annoying…

The final thing I noticed in the seconds I had to evaluate him was that the guards weren’t holding onto his arms. They were using metal clamps wrapped around his wiry biceps. His glare was cold and spiteful as he took in his surroundings, walking toward psychiatrist’s room like a silent gladiator

I had to see his file…