/6
September 19, 2008

Gary looked around as he sat in Dr. Rice's office. The typical things adorned his walls; diplomas, certificates, awful "abstract" paintings. He turned his attention to the doctor's desk, his eyes grazing across novelty office items, and finally resting on a small mirror that lay on the desk. Gary hesitated before picking it up, this would be the first time he'd really seen his own reflection in almost two years. Mirrors, after all, were not allowed in a place like this.
He took the mirror in his hand, and turned it to see himself. He was pale. His cheeks were drawn, and there were dark circles under his eyes.
He looked sick.

Gary slammed the mirror back onto the desk, and moved on to the few family photos. His eyes lingered on a picture of who he assumed was Rice's teenaged grandson in a football uniform. He looked to be around the same age as Gary. Sexually frustrated thoughts suddenly gave way to a wave of depression, as Gary realised all he had missed over the last two years. He promised himself that he would make up for that lost time, just as he heard Dr. Rice's voice outside the door. He breathed deep and braced himself for what was about to happen.

The last month had been agonising. After his mother's unexpected visit, all Gary had been able to think of was getting as far away from New Hampshire and her, as he possibly could. Time, however, seemed to know that he was impatient, and had crawled along at a pace so slow, he thought it might've actually stopped. He was eager to taste the outside air, unshackled and free, wild and feral, as he should be. As he was meant to be. Walls were like prison bars to him, and people seemed to always get in his way. He wasn't going to let that happen anymore.
No one would wall him in, bar him up, or lock him away again.
And no one would get in his way.

Dr. Rice finally made his way into the office, accompanied by another doctor Gary didn't recognise. Both doctors gave Gary a weak smile as they walked in. He could feel their eagerness to get rid of him. After they had both sat down, Rice was the first to speak,
"Gary, this is Dr. Holkins, he's the head of the board. He's going to ask you a few questions."

Gary nodded at Dr. Holkins, and returned the same weak smile the man had given him. He hoped this went by quickly, he already couldn't stand Holkins, and he hadn't even spoken yet. He was old, even older than Rice, if that was possible. Everybody here was old, and Gary couldn't take it anymore.

Dr. Holkins started by putting on a pair of reading glasses, and going over Gary's file, reading his name aloud.
"Gary Smith."
Not sure what he was supposed to do, Gary responded "Yes?"
Holkins ignored him, and continued reading,
"So, you had a series of suicide attempts, up until about your eighth month here." The words came out of Holkin's mouth slowly, as though he were seeing each one for the first time. He lowered the file, and looked at Gary over the rim of his glasses, "How are we doing with that?" He asked.
Gary clenched his jaw, as he fought back his impatience with this man, and answered curtly, "I'm doing just great."
Holkins went on, seemingly uninterested in Gary's answers. Gary thought it was more likely that he just didn't care, either way.

"Your medication is helping?"

"Sure is."

"And no problems with other patients over the last year?"

"Not a one, Doc."

Dr. Rice flinched as Gary's voice gained a more sarcastic tone, with each question.
Finally, Dr. Holkins placed the file down on Rice's desk, removed his glasses, and looked Gary straight in the eye.
"Mr. Smith, it is my opinion that your time here has been greatly beneficial to you, and your mental health."
Gary rolled his eyes, and Dr. Rice scowled at him, as Holkins continued.
"Given that you are now eighteen years of age, and I see no evidence of lingering mental issues, I believe it's time for you to return to the outside world."
As Dr. Holkins said these last words, Gary exhaled, and unclenched his jaw a bit.
"However," Dr. Holkins continued, "Dr. Rice is going to provide you with a prescription. It's imperative that you remain on a strict medication regimen, to maintain your mental health."
Gary didn't care about anything else, as long as they were letting him go. They could give him fifty prescriptions, he'd take each one of them with a smile, as walked out the door.
"Sure." He answered, and almost detected a hint of joy in his own voice.

Dr. Rice spoke up, at this point,
"You'll need a final physical exam, before you sign the release papers. If you'll just wait outside, someone will call you in."
Gary stood up, and turned to leave, when Rice spoke again,
"Oh, and speak to Jessica, and make sure you get all of your personal affects back."
Gary nodded, before quickly leaving the room.
He never wanted to hear Rice's voice ever again.

Opening the door to the outside was like diving into a pool, for Gary. He plunged himself into the open air, feeling the cool September wind on his face, hearing the leaves rustle along the ground. He could smell the dampness of fall, and he took it all in, greedily. He had been given his clothes from the day he was brought in; khaki pants, a white shirt, and his Bullworth vest. Of course, none of it fit him any longer, it had been two years after all. He had to make do with clothes that had been donated by a local church. He was sure he looked like a vagrant. His pants were two sizes too big, his shoes were ripped and scuffed, and the white t-shirt he was wearing had a big hole over the chest. The only thing that fit him well, was the dark green flannel shirt they had given him, in place of a jacket. He pushed the sleeves up to his elbows, ran his hands through his hair, and looked at the area around him.

Suddenly remembering, he reached into his pocket, and pulled out his leather wrist cuff. He worn it every single day, since the day his father had given it to him as a birthday gift. He held it up to his face. It still smelled like leather.
He wrapped the cuff around his wrist, secured the buttons, and took off down the street, in the direction of the busiest intersection he could see.

The hospital was in a secluded spot of a fairly metropolitan area, so there was no shortage of shops, restaurants, and department stores to be seen. Gary could smell food being cooked in a dozen different directions. Real food. Burgers, pizza, Chinese.
Just as he was about to decide which one to eat first, his eyes fell on a tattoo shop on a corner. Determined to let his impulses lead him, at least for a little while, he headed straight for it.

Along with his personal things, he had also been given an envelope at the hospital. The girl at the desk - Jessica, had told him that it had been left by his mother.
He knew what was inside before he even looked- a letter.
There was something else inside the envelope, though, something Gary hadn't expected. Wrapped in a blank sheet of paper, he found one thousand dollars in cash.
His first thought was that she was obviously trying to buy his approval. But, she had most likely brought the envelope with her when she came to visit. How could she have known things would've happened the way they did?
Gary decided he didn't want to think about it, and folded the letter into a messy square, cramming it into his back pocket. The money he kept in his front pocket, with a hand constantly checking and hovering around the pocket.

This was the money he would use to get his first tattoo. Something simple and nondescript. Something only he would fully understand the meaning of. Something that wouldn't cost too much, he didn't want to burn through too much money at once.
As he walked through the shop, his eyes settled on a solid black silhouette of a sparrow.
It was simple, yet detailed enough that you knew exactly what it was once you saw it.
It was casual, yet held so much meaning to Gary, and Gary alone.
It was perfect.

It wasn't as painful as he expected it to be. Honestly, he had been hoping for more pain. He had felt so disconnected for the last two years, he needed something to wake his senses up.
It was enough pain, though. He could feel it, and that was something.
When it was done, he paid, and left the man a hundred dollar tip. He didn't even wait long enough to hear the man say "thank you", as he choked on his cigarette.

Back on the street, it was an easy choice- the smell of hamburgers and french fries pervaded the air, overtaking any other smell.
So he headed for the nearest burger place, gave his order, and thought about looking for a seat, before quickly adding "To go".
Gary left the restaurant, food in hand, and started toward the nearest highway.
He was dying to change his clothes, but he decided that could wait until he got to the next town or city, wherever that might actually be.
He walked along the highway, his thumb held out to the traffic, already devouring one of the five burgers he had purchased.

It seemed like it would be a nice night.
Gary thought he might not freeze to death, if he didn't get a ride right away.
Still, he hoped he did.