Status: Finished
Imperfect
Dinner
It would’ve felt like summer camp, with benches, buffet lines, and lots of people, if it hadn’t been for the inmates.
I saw a few girls have food forced down their throats even as they tried to puke it back up. A few tables held people who weren’t allowed to use knives or forks. I looked around for a friendly face and finally found one.
A boy, a few years older than me, sat alone. He was eating a sandwich, staring blankly at the wall in front of him. Still, he wasn’t glaring.
I stood in front of him and waved a hand near his face. “Hello? Can I sit here?” He jumped but nodded, so I plopped the tray down.
He flinched slightly at the small noise. “My name is Belle.” “Aven.” Odd name, but it suited him. Aven was taller than me, maybe 6’, but skinny as a bone.
His cheeks were hollowed, the shirt he was wearing revealed an emaciated chest. Pretty eyes though. Warm brown and long lashed over a slightly crooked nose and an even more crooked smile.
I guess he would’ve been attractive, but he was too unhealthy then. Everything about Aven screamed ‘stay away’.
“How long have you been here?” I was tensed, unused to this environment. I didn’t know how I was supposed to behave.
“About....five days? I checked myself in just a little while ago.” “You checked yourself in? You weren’t forced?”
I asked. Aven just smiled, making his face look more natural. “I’m 19, an adult. No one could make me go in here. Why, how old are you?”
“Seventeen.” Just a few months away from graduation, and escaping that horrible town, the family I no longer wanted near me.
And maybe, secretly, how everyone wanted my siblings and not me. “Well, you can leave when you turn eighteen. No one can stop you,” he told me.
The whole time we were talking Aven moved his hands, stroking the worn wood of the table, fiddling with a button, tracing patterns in the air. “Good.” We sat in silence for a moment before I asked him, “Why are you here?”
Aven’s face closed so fast I knew not to reopen that subject. “Never mind that. You, uh, doing anything?” I asked awkwardly.
Thankfully he smiled again. “I have a meeting tonight, some therapy session. “ He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t really go for that kind of thing, but whatever. No more drugs for me.”
I took note of the ‘no more drugs’. Aven did seem the type who would do that. He had longer hair than normal, black, and I could see holes where piercings would go.
“I don’t know what I have yet, but I hope I can see you.” I smiled at him as we put the plates away. He saluted and strolled off.
I saw a few girls have food forced down their throats even as they tried to puke it back up. A few tables held people who weren’t allowed to use knives or forks. I looked around for a friendly face and finally found one.
A boy, a few years older than me, sat alone. He was eating a sandwich, staring blankly at the wall in front of him. Still, he wasn’t glaring.
I stood in front of him and waved a hand near his face. “Hello? Can I sit here?” He jumped but nodded, so I plopped the tray down.
He flinched slightly at the small noise. “My name is Belle.” “Aven.” Odd name, but it suited him. Aven was taller than me, maybe 6’, but skinny as a bone.
His cheeks were hollowed, the shirt he was wearing revealed an emaciated chest. Pretty eyes though. Warm brown and long lashed over a slightly crooked nose and an even more crooked smile.
I guess he would’ve been attractive, but he was too unhealthy then. Everything about Aven screamed ‘stay away’.
“How long have you been here?” I was tensed, unused to this environment. I didn’t know how I was supposed to behave.
“About....five days? I checked myself in just a little while ago.” “You checked yourself in? You weren’t forced?”
I asked. Aven just smiled, making his face look more natural. “I’m 19, an adult. No one could make me go in here. Why, how old are you?”
“Seventeen.” Just a few months away from graduation, and escaping that horrible town, the family I no longer wanted near me.
And maybe, secretly, how everyone wanted my siblings and not me. “Well, you can leave when you turn eighteen. No one can stop you,” he told me.
The whole time we were talking Aven moved his hands, stroking the worn wood of the table, fiddling with a button, tracing patterns in the air. “Good.” We sat in silence for a moment before I asked him, “Why are you here?”
Aven’s face closed so fast I knew not to reopen that subject. “Never mind that. You, uh, doing anything?” I asked awkwardly.
Thankfully he smiled again. “I have a meeting tonight, some therapy session. “ He wrinkled his nose. “I don’t really go for that kind of thing, but whatever. No more drugs for me.”
I took note of the ‘no more drugs’. Aven did seem the type who would do that. He had longer hair than normal, black, and I could see holes where piercings would go.
“I don’t know what I have yet, but I hope I can see you.” I smiled at him as we put the plates away. He saluted and strolled off.