Chapter Four:
Dead Devil Production
"W-what are you doing?" Gil stammered, trying to keep a tough voice.
"I don't know." I whispered. I'm not even thinking anymore. I'm just kinda staring at him.
"Move." His voice is soft now. Barely a whisper. It's very...un-Gilbert. He lightly shoves me by putting his pale hands on my chest and pushing. You'd think he'd put more force into that.
"Why?" I hold his wrists not tightly at all. I kind of just guide them to the wall beside his head. He doesn't fight it.
I lean my head closer, and when my lips lightly brush against his he gasps and slides down to the ground, curling into a ball of insecurity.
"Please." I hear him take in a shuddering breath before continuing, "Just stop."
I take a step back and crouch in front of him.
"Hey Gil." I grab him and pull him into a hug and he begins to cry. It's weird, really, because he's suppose to be mentally stable and treating me, but right now I think he just confused me even more.
January 17:
Tuesday, 9:43 a.m.
"Do you remember why you're here?"
I'm with Dr. Yao. He's Chinese but speaks English fluently. I sometimes think I know more about him than he knows about me. Word has it he grew up here and studied here but had to pay his tuition doing really odd jobs. It doesn't bother me though. A lot of people here like to talk gossip 'cause you don't get a lot of it when you're in this white box.
"No."
I swear to whatever higher being you believe in that I don't know why. If I did I wouldn't be here. I'd be out there. Checking if my brother is okay. I've been having a lot of night terrors about him being killed, raped, kidnapped, and other crazy shit like that.
"Would you like me to tell you?"
I ponder on this for a bit. I stare at him for a bit and I see he's holding back a sneeze. He does this weird face and pinches his nose to stop the sneeze.
"What are we talking about again?" I ask scratching my head.
"The reason you're here."
"It's because you're all assholes."
The Chinese man shakes his head and picks up his things after having heard a weird beep from his pocket.
"What's up?"
"It's Mr. Braginski. He pagers me."
You know how Gil and I are? Well, that is how Ivan and Yao are, but the difference is they actually do it. They do it A LOT. Not to mention, they're loud. Ivan bunks in the room beside me and I hear them. ALL THE TIME. It's disturbing. One time Gil made a small hole in the wall so we could yell at them to stop. That hole is long gone now.
"I'm sorry Mr. Jones, but I'm going to have to leave now. Please make your way back to your room. Quietly. And please don't do any surprise visits on Arthur again. You know he's not stable."
I actually wasn't thinking about dropping by till he said that. Arthur is a real nut job. As in, from all of the people I met here, I think he is just about the damn craziest. He has different personalities, he's violent as fuck, but other than that he's a pretty okay guy.
My brain was going back to my own room, but for some reason my feet just wouldn't listen. They went forward and turned a few different ways until I kind of lost track of where I was. It wasn't until I stopped in front of room 104, Arthur's room.
Luckily, today he was in his "gentleman" phase. He opened the door for me and said what I think was a "hi". I'm not really sure what "Salutations, my good fellow, and do drop in for a cup of tea," meant, but I do know that tea is disgusting.
That's when the really crazy thing happened. First, Artie was acting like some stuck-up rich guy from a billon centuries ago, sipping on his pretend tea. I swear, this guy is a bigger nut job than I am. I still don't know why I'm here. I do know that there is no tea or tea table between us.
Then he gets up and gets this scary look on his face and whispers, "Do you like planes, Alfred?"
That really freaked me out. And they say I'M mental.
"Iggy, you know I love planes! What kind of stupid question is that?"
"Alfred...are you leaving here, if they let you leave? Alfred?"
No duh. I want to leave this shithole behind. This place and all of those baldies in the lab coats can go to hell.
"Where will you go? Will you leave poor Artie behind in this hell that they call a hospital? Will you go back in those big planes to be shot down again? Do you remember those big flames, and the shattering glass, and the melting panes, and the blood splattered all over the back of your chair? Do you?"
See, that's what I mean by this guy being batshit insane. Even worse than Ivan. Before I knew it, there were two walls next to me. I tried to move, but the corner was too small and Arthur was in front of me.
Now my feet were taking me somewhere else again, away, away from this deranged guy, to the door again, back to my room again. Then, I felt something hard bang against my shin, and I was falling.
Falling…
Falling…
I was in a plane. There's a red light in the corner. It's flashing. There's a strange beeping noise which sounds familiar, except I can't really remember it. All of a sudden, there's a loud noise, and I'm falling...
There's so much smoke that I can't even see or breathe. My eyes watered, and my lungs were on fire. Literally. Flames were licking their way across my body, across the chair, across everything…my head hurt. My legs hurt. My arms hurt. Everything hurt. I couldn't see.
I'm still falling.
And then I hit the cold, hard ground. Nothing hurt anymore, except my shin. There was no fire. No smoke. No plane. I was in a perfectly white room, with the light so blinding that I couldn't see. Two little black dots were dancing in front of my eyes.
I hear some yelling. The door slammed. More yelling…I can make out some voices now. There's Arthur, still cackling and screaming like a maniac, and some other doctors, maybe…and Gil was yelling something, though I couldn't hear what.
Where was I again?
"Al, I told you a million times: STOP VISITING ARTHUR."
I flinch. I'm not used to the yelling. I used to get yelled at all the time in the Air Force. Now, it's just Gilbert, and I'm flinching.
"You know how I feel about that! It's dangerous; you already gave too much about yourself away to him, and he's one of the least mentally stable people here! If you get too attached to him, he'll probably attempt to use it against you...like today." Gil puffs his cheeks and knits his white eyebrows together. It's really adorable, but if I told him that he'd probably punch me in the face.
"I think someone's jealous." I say jokingly. Gilbert turns really red, just like his eyes. It's pretty funny.
"Bastard! The awesome me does NOT get jealous because of a thick eyebrow-ed nutjob! Don't fill your thick head with stupid thoughts!"
I shrug and sit on my bed. We hear a loud thud on the left side of the wall followed by a girlish moan.
"That's gross. That could kill anyone's boner. Fucking Ivan."
"At least you don't have to work with his sex toy."
We laugh.
"What if I made you my sex toy? Just to piss Ivan off." I say jokingly as I pull Gil onto the bed, smirking.
"I don't think I'll mind that at all." Gil says with a smirk to match mine.
Our faces are inches a part, we did a bit of a silent staring contest then we laughed again. I hear the sound bouncing around the room and his breath tickles my face before I pull a few inches a part so we don't end up kissing each other.
"Fake sex sounds?"
Thud.
Moan.
"Yeah. We can't let Ivan and Yao have all the fun."
We both sit down on the bed and start making the most fucking obnoxious sex sounds ever. At some point Gil starts hitting the wall so Yao can hear us.
"Deeper Al! Deeper!" Gil says while pulling me up to jump on the bed with him.
I hear the bed squeak under out weight. Right when I kind of just stop and listen to the creaking of the bed Gil pulls me down and we flop down on the bed.
"Okay let's stop. I'm good. HAHAHA!" He laughs like a maniac. I really think that HE'S the crazy one. Not that I mind.
My digital clock read 2:56 A.M. I've been tossing around for a good hour. The only things in my mind were the shit Arthur said. It really bothered me.
I stand up and get a pencil and paper, I write for the first time this month. My writing is shit.
I wrote till I got sick of my shit handwriting and read the paper.
WHAT HAPPENED TO ME:
-My 'dad' is an asshole
-the military
-The PLANE crash
-family- WHATEVER IS LEFT OF IT.
-What I've seen in this lifetime.
The rest were scribbles. My brain feels a bit jumbled up. I can't remember the last time I've contacted my family. By family I mean Matt and Mom. The military and Air Force stuff didn't do much to me till that crash. Sometimes I think I really am psycho because I have no reason to be crazy and have weird images in my mind, not to mention fucking night terrors. I try to remember some of the things I see randomly flashing in my mind, but nothing happens except my left side of the brain only throbs a little.
"Fuck this."
I'm going to sleep. I don't give a shit. My head hurts. Night terrors? Bring it on.
END OF CHAPTER FOUR. That took long to get out. R&R please!
