I walked into Westbrook with my bags, nervous about how I looked. My hair was a mess and I wasn't wearing my usual long sleeved sweatshirt to cover the scars and recent burns on my arms. I looked at her mom and smiled slightly.
"Do you have everything, sweetie?" My mother asked.
"Yes, mom." I smiled softly up at her and wrapped my arms around her neck. "Thank you for bringing me." I pulled away as my mother began to tear up. "I need this. I need to get better. I'll be fine soon...I need this." I kissed her forehead and smiled softly.
"I got you this..." She handed me The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. "I thought it would help you pass the time...I know she's your favorite." I smiled.
"Thank you. I love it." I took it from her and hugged her one last time. "Don't forget to visit."
"Of course I won't, dear." She smiled. "Bye, I love you."
"I love you, too." I watched her leave as I started toward my room. Room 111. I looked at the numbers of the rooms until I came to the correct one. It was simple, typical hospital beds with white sheets. I set my bags on the bed and sat down, looking around.
As I was taking in my surroundings, I saw a boy with black hair and green eyes walking with another boy walk past my room. He flashed a smile at me and I blushed. "That's Elijah. He prefers Eli." I jumped at the voice, looking up to see whom it came from.
A girl with long, curly, brown hair was smiling at me. "I'm Fiona. It's nice to meet you." She held out her hand and I shook it gently, noticing scars on her arms. I bit my lip and looked down, quickly withdrawing my hand.
"I'm Clare..." She laughed softly.
"What are you in for?" She sat beside me, smiling brightly. I looked down and held out my arms. She nodded and put hers next to mine. "I used a razor...burning wasn't as pleasant for me...one day I cut too deep and now I'm here..." She looked around. "It's quite nice..."
I nodded. "I wanted to come...I wanted to get better..."
"Well, no promises. But the people are nice, at least." She smiled.
"That's good..." I forced a smile. My thoughts went back to the black haired boy...Eli. "Who was that Elijah boy?"
"He's been here since before I came, which has been a year yesterday." She smiled. "He's different, a writer. He enjoys the...Poe and Shakespeare..." She looked over at my bags and laughed. "And Plath...I never could get into it..."
"You know a lot about him...are you two...?" I bit my lip, looking at her from the corner of my eyes. She laughed.
"No...he's not my type...I prefer...well, women." She smiled. "Don't worry, you're not my type either." She laughed softly. I let out a sigh of relief reluctantly. I covered my mouth.
"I didn't...mean it like that...I just..." I closed my eyes. "I'm sorry..."
"Don't worry about it. My last room mate was freaked out by me. Then again, she was a schitzo so she couldn't really talk." She laughed. "Make yourself at home, it's weird at first but you get used to it. Meanwhile, it is arts and crafts time. Come on." She grabbed my hand and pulled me up, smiling at me.
I didn't really care that she was a lesbian, just that she wasn't dating Eli. It was stupid, I didn't even know him. I didn't even know if he was cute, all I saw was a glimpse of his smile. I walked down the hall with Fiona and sat at a table, looking around. There were more people here than I thought there would be.
"Okay everyone. Don't worry about how good your art is, just do what you feel is good." The woman I assumed was directing the program said. I sighed and looked down at the piece of paper in front of me.
"It's kind of lame, huh?" I jumped and looked up, my eyes meeting green ones. I blushed, it was Eli.
"Wh-what is?" I swallowed hard and sharpened the pencil in my hand.
"The whole 'draw what you feel' bullshit. I'm better with words." he smirked. "What about you, newbie?" He looked at me, his eyes probing at mine.
"I have a name. And I prefer words as well...but that doesn't mean I can't draw..." I looked at the attempt of drawing a dog on the paper and frowned. "Actually...that's exactly what it means." He laughed.
"Okay then. What's your name?" He leaned forward. "Mine's Eli."
I sighed and set the pencil down. "Clare. Clare Edwards."
"I think I'll call you Blue Eyes..." He smiled, a genuine smile. Not like his previous smirks. I blushed and looked down. "You have beautiful eyes."
"Thanks..." I looked at him.
"Come on." He stood up and held out his hand. I looked around at everyone, their heads down and focused on their "art."
"Where are we going?" I looked up at him.
"To Narnia. Come on, Blue Eyes. Or are you scared?" He grinned. I grabbed his hand and stood up. He started walking and I followed, catching a glimpse of Fiona looking at us and smiling.
"Now seriously, where are we going?"
"The roof." He smiled and led me to a door marked "authorized personnel only".
"I'm pretty sure we aren't supposed to go in there..." I looked at him.
"Yeah..." He opened the door and started walking up the stairs, looking back at me and smiling. "Coming?" I thought for a moment then sighed.
"Fine." I started walking up the stairs, following him until he opened another door and stepped out onto the roof.
"Tada." He smiled, holding out his arms. "This is where I write." I looked at him, stepping out.
"You should probably know I'm afraid of h-heights..." I swallowed hard, looking over the side of the roof at the busy streets below. "You write...?" I looked at him.
"If you fall, I'll catch you...And yes I do. Call me Ted Hughes." He smirked. "Do you write?"
"Call me Sylvia Plath." I smirked, crossing my arms and looking at him. "What do we do now?"
"Talk...think...makeout." he grinned. I rolled my eyes.
"No thanks. I'm good."
"Aw, damn." He chuckled and sat on a crate, patting the crate beside him. I looked at him and sat down. "Let's play a game. We ask each other questions, and have to respond with a question. Got it?"
"Do we answer the questions?" I looked at him.
"If we want to. You ready?" He looked back at me.
"Yes, are you?" I laughed a little. He nodded, smirking.
"Why are you here?" He took on a serious look. I looked down.
"I burn myself..." I closed my eyes, swallowing hard. When I opened them he was looking at my arms. "It's a long story...Why are you here?"
"I tried to kill myself...twice. And I'm bipolar...Who brought you here?" I looked at his arm, noticing a dark scar on his wrist and light scarring on his neck.
"It was my idea...but my mother brought me...How did you do it?" I looked at him. He looked away.
"Why did you want to come here?"
"I knew I needed help...Who checked you in?"
"I checked myself in..." He looked at me. "Do you like music?" He smiled a little. I nodded.
"More than breathing..." I laughed. "Do you?" He nodded.
"Do you think I'm cute?" I coughed, covering my mouth.
"How long have you been here?" I looked away. He smirked.
"A year and a half last week. Why won't you answer my question?" He grinned, staring at me. I blushed and looked at my feet.
"Why do you care?" I bit my lip. He started to answer when someone burst through the door.
"Eli!" The person, who I assumed worked for the hospital, looked from him to me. "Not again." The man groaned and held the door open. "Downstairs. Now." Eli laughed and grabbed my hand, helping me up and walking through the door.
"Do you bring all girls up here?" I looked at him, pulling my hand away.
"I never said you had to let go...and that depends, are you still playing?" He grinned.
"Are you?" I smiled.