Prologue
"Nico, it's time for me to go."
Bianca winced as Nico stared up at her, eyes blank and emotionless. She saw him like this every day, at four p.m. exactly, the visitation hour. That's the way it was at Hope Mission. Every patient was on a tight schedule. Breakfast at 7:30, one-on-one consultations with doctors after every meal, more meetings with doctors and social workers throughout the day, multiple "community" group sessions ect. Mental hospitals were set up that way on purpose. They were supposed to help people through their problems, and, apparently, the ordered system helped.
It hurt her to see him this way. It was like he was blaming her for his current state of existence. It wasn't her fault though. At least that's what she told herself.
Nico was thirteen now, and had been at Hope Mission for a year, with no change. He was simply, not there. He would eat, sleep, go to group sessions, but he was always silent. He'd been that way since their mother had died.
No… since their mother, Maria di Angelo had been murdered, choked to death by her maniac son.
That wasn't the whole story though. Bianca knew Nico wasn't a maniac. But she also didn't know what had triggered his sudden violence either. Neither did the doctors. He had always been a sweet, kind kid. He was kind of nerdy, and addicted to card games like Mythomagic. Nico was smart, top of his class. He had shown no signs of any metal malfunction or health issue. The question Bianca and the doctors kept asking was, why? Why now?
Bianca gave Nico's hand one last squeeze and stood to leave. His nurse turned her attention from the conversation she had been having with Nico's roommate, a half-blind kid who was being treated for depression and multiple suicide attempts, named Ethan Nakamura.
"This must be hard for you," the nurse, Kelli, said. The woman was in her thirties, and had a kindly smile. Bianca had been having these conversations with her for months. While they got old, she knew Kelli meant well.
"I just wish I understood. I feel that if I knew more, I would be able to help him, you know?"
Kelli nodded, clutching her clipboard, "He'll come through, Bianca. You'll see."
For what was not the first time, Bianca wished her father was here. He always waited outside, as to avoid looking at his "failure" son. Bianca guessed that he was still upset about their mother's death. But she also knew that the fact that he showed up at all, meant that he at least cared.
She met him outside the door, leaning up against a strip of white painted drywall, in-between two large windows. Everything was bright here, so unlike the dark house she and Nico had grown up in. Bianca always found it a bit strange, to see her tall, scary looking father, bathed in so much sunlight.
"No change?"
Bianca shook her head no, as they walked side by side to the car outside. The hospital was up on a hill, untainted by the urban California landscape below. It was ideally located; the patients could recuperate in isolation, while the staff and visiting families could live in the city, with all of its luxuries. Bianca always loved coming up here, even if she always left sad.
She still had hope though. Nico wasn't a lost cause. He WOULD get better. He would come home, go back to school, graduate, get a girlfriend, and live his life. That's what she prayed for, every night before bed, where her father couldn't hear her.
That night at dinner, Bianca and her father fought… again.
"How could you ever say that?!"
"It's his fault!"
"He's your son!"
"He is NO son of mine, Bianca!" her father slammed down on the table, causing all of the dishes to go airborne for a few seconds, "I pay his medical bills, I take you to that stupid hospital, because if I didn't you would never shut up about it. I personally couldn't care less if he gets better or not!"
Bianca could feel the anger rising up in her throat. Why did he keep lying to himself? He had to care. He wouldn't do so much if he didn't, right?
Either that or he cared about her happiness more than Nico's, and as her happiness was tied to his, her father had to keep Nico around. The thought revolted her.
"Please, stop saying that, Father. Mama wouldn't want you to say something so harsh."
She suddenly wondered if she had crossed a boundary, because he stood up suddenly. Bianca expected to be hit, or screamed at, but instead he glared at her, eyes steely cold.
His glare was more terrifying than his yell.
"You will never say something like that again, Bianca. Understand?"
She slowly stood up, pushing away her unfinished steak, "Yes, Father".
"Good. You are dismissed."
Bianca went to her room, careful not to slam the door, despite her frustration. She didn't want to provoke her father more. He had only begun to be so unreasonable in recent months, after countless psychiatrists, and medications had proven to be a waste on Nico. She wasn't sure if her father was angry with the doctors or at the waste of money that they didn't have. They weren't poor, but they were not exactly millionaires either.
She laid on her bed after changing into sweatpants and closed her eyes, trying to will herself to sleep. Sleep always helped calm her nerves after a fight. Not to mention she had a big test tomorrow. She needed her rest.
As she drifted off to sleep, she sent up a silent prayer, to any deity who might be listening,
"Please, if you're there, if you can hear me, help Nico. Heal him. Do whatever you have to. Just let him have his life back. Please."
Bianca awoke a few hours later to the sound of fire trucks, and helicopters. She glanced over, bleary eyed, and saw that the mountain was on fire.
No, not the mountain. A very specific building on the mountain. Hope Mission Mental Hospital.
Nico.
She bolted upright, or tried too, but her writs were lashed to the bedposts. Her feet were tied together, and her door was open. What was going on?
A search light flashed into her window and she saw a figure standing by the foot of her bed. His tiny form was dark and emaciated, due to his refusal to eat hospital food. His blank, unfeeling gaze was focused on her face, and the surprise and relief she felt at the sight of him made Bianca temporarily forget her terror.
"Nico, you're alright," he didn't get caught in the fire. That was good.
He didn't respond to her, per the usual, and Bianca noticed he was clutching one the pillows from her father's bedroom. She realized with a jolt that their father wasn't home. He had left for his night shift hours ago.
Her mind began to race, trying to piece together the situation. If Nico wasn't up there, he had somehow managed to escape. How he had done that was beyond Bianca's comprehension, but he was smart, and resourceful. He was capable of at least that much.
Bianca struggled a little against her bonds, and thought about asking Nico to help her, but closed her mouth as dread clutched at her. Nico was the only other one here. He had probably tied her up like this; her father never would have done anything of the sort, no matter how angry he was. Which meant that Nico had purposefully tied her down in her sleep. Why?
So she couldn't struggle. She watched him walk over to her vanity, still clutching the pillow, and pick up a framed picture of them from before he had been institutionalized. While his back was turned she tried once again to escape, but found his makeshift cuffs too difficult to break. She tried not to groan in frustration. Why did her little brother have to be so good with knots?
Nico pocketed the picture in his charred cargo pants, which were wet on the bottom. He smelled vaguely like gasoline. Bianca got a horrible thought. Had he started the fire that was currently burning down the hospital? She wouldn't be surprised, but she hoped beyond a hope that it wasn't true. That would mean that he would have committed an act of homicide, if anyone was still inside. She had no proof that he actually had murderous intent. His psychiatrist had once told Bianca that she did not think Nico had had any malicious forethought before killing their mother. Most likely, he had just wanted her to be quiet, but had gone too far. But it was only a theory, and they didn't know for sure. He had never said or done anything to agree or disagree with the theory.
He's going to kill me, she realized. Nico wouldn't be going to all this trouble he didn't intend to silence her forever. She would be his first true murder victim.
He was THIRTEEN. A high school freshman. What was going on in his head that lead him to believe that killing her was a good thing? Didn't he see that she cared about him? That she was trying to help him?
He stood next to her bed, one hand on her arm, which was starting to cramp from being forced into such a strange position. His hands were icy cold, like a corpse.
She tried one last time, but instead of struggling she attempted to reason with him.
"Nico… please. You don't want to do this. Trust me."
It wasn't much, but she saw him hesitate. For a second, his eyes didn't look lifeless. He looked like a lost, scared, little kid. Then it was gone, and he was pressing the pillow up against her face.
Death came slowly. It took him a few minutes to realize that she wasn't dying right away, since she could still breathe though a small air pocket between her and the pillow. He finally sat on her chest, and, despite his small size, started to crush her rib cage and her diaphragm. He pushed up on her jaw with one hand, and pressed harder with the pillow with the other, effectively obstructing her nostrils. She stopped trying to fight for breath. Her muscles began to relax, despite the fact that her lungs were screaming for air.
Even as her vision dimmed, and she began to see the light at the end to the tunnel, she forgave Nico. She wasn't angry. Even as he snuffed out her life force, she loved him. And she prayed that one day; she would see him again, in whatever afterlife she would be heading to.
Finally, her heart stopped beating, and all was still.
I've had this fic in my head for a while now, and I thought, what the hell. I'll just write it.
Just so you know, I get all of my knowledge of mental hospitals from movies, the Internet, and this book called One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Nor do I know anything about psychology aside from those sources, and my friends who are taking the class.
Just thought I should warn you.