Title: Welcome Home
Genre: General/angst
Word Count: 459
Time-Line: Checking Brian into the institution.
Warnings: Spoilers for Brian's past.
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or the premise of this story.
-Story Starts Here-
Brian holds his teddy bear close to him. He buries his face in the back of it's head, willing himself home. He tries not to watch the man open boxes, pull out his stuff, and put them into one of two piles. There's an older blonde woman holding his hand, smiling a wide smile that looks like it is glued on. The man sorting out his stuff is older and fat. He's bald, and doesn't bother to smile. Brian likes it better that way. At least they aren't lying to him. He pulls out a spider-man action figure, examines it, and puts into the larger of the two piles.
Brian just holds his bear tighter. Whenever something bad happens, he would hug Dexter. Dexter isn't here, so he hugs his bear. It usually works, makes him feel a littler bit better, but the simple comfort of it's soft brown fur seems empty and hollow. Everything feels hollow. Brian wonders if he died with his mom, and that's why he can't feel anything.
The man snorts loudly, clearing his nose. He puts Brian's skateboard in the ever-growing 'throw out' pile. Brian tries to look away again. He hugs the bear tighter, willing the usual comfort to come to him. But it doesn't. It's stuffing covered in a fuzzy brown material. It has no emotions, no sense, no thoughts. It's just a toy, pointless and meaningless.
His hands fall to his sides, barely holding the bear. He has lost interest in trying to feel it's ever elusive comfort. The man snorts again and pushes a stack of three boxes towards them.
There use to be ten.
Other men come and load the boxes on a cart, and they all walk down the hallways, wandering deeper into the beast. Every step Brian takes seems to lead him to a darker place.
"You're going to live here for a while", the woman holding his hands says. She says it softy, with that glued on smile. It's intended to comfort the young boy, but it only confirms his worst fears. He's never going to leave this place.
He follows behind the woman slightly, still holding her hand. His feet drag, all motivation to continue walking has left him. He wants nothing more than to go home. He doesn't want to go farther and farther into this twisted building. He doesn't want to live here.
They go to a room, so perfectly white. "Welcome home", the lady next to him whispers.
Home where the wind never blows anyone's hair. Home where time seems to hold still, only recorded with one's growth and length of hair. Home where the mad people live. Home where young Brian Moser will dwell for a while.
A long, long while.