Chapter Eight: Niana
I slip out of my room, looking around the hallway cautiously. Spring and a nurse talk quietly at the end of the hallway. The purple bowler catches my eye. I turn to the doors. I open one, there is a young man with blonde hair, and blue arrows tattooed of his arms. On the other bed is a trio of lettuce heads. They are slightly wilted. I move to the foot of the bed and look at the patient sheet. Reginold. Age eighteen. Condition: Hallucinations. I raise an eye brow and walk out of the room. The second room is quiet, until I open the door and am met by a shriek and a pillow being tossed at me.
"NO! NO MORE WATER!" The woman on the bed screams. I give her my best glare and she sags. I walk over to the bed and look at her sheet.
"I'm Niana." I say absentmindedly. She whimpers, and then says,
"Illaina." I shake her hand, and say,
"They've diagnosed you with hydrophobia, you know." She nods and crosses her arms.
"I know." The door opens again, and Spring is staring at us, fury written on his face.
"Niana!" I stand and face him, hands on hips.
"What? Am I doing something wrong?" He splutters and finally yells,
"Get back to your room!" I stalk past him, shoving him on the way out. I don't notice the fire crackling around my hands until my sleeves catch on fire. I gasp and pat out the flames. Then I stare at my hands. Was I hallucinating again? Shaking, I dash into my room and hurl myself onto the bed. Tears come out, and I sob uncontrollably. Dammit! Why couldn't I just be normal? I let out a howl of sheer pain. Then I brake down, tears and snot, and shaking. I guess that's why I don't hear Spring come in and sit on the bed beside me. His calloused hand rub my back, and I turn my head around to look at him. He sighs. I sit up and wrap my arms around him. Spring has been my older brother figure for twelve years, ever since I was brought to the asylum at age five.
"Hush. I'm here. I'm sorry." He says, and I nod. We rock back and forth, sane and insane, loved, and unloved.
