Chapter 31: Jackson Departs

I awoke to the sound of birds chirping at the window from outside with me pulling the covers over my head, refusing to get out of my cot from being all snuggled and warm from the blanket, clutching the teddy bear close to my chest, afraid I might lose it since it's Hannah's toy, knowing I'll have to give it back to her whenever I can go home.

Home… A place where I want to be right now, even though I'm not better yet. I have to wait, and so far, I'm doing pretty good at staying at this place where they help people get back on their feet. I may be here for a long time, and who knows? I might get to go home early someday. As for right now, I don't want to get out of bed, feeling secured and protected by the cover.

Unlike the one back at my god parents house for being all thin and scratchy, practically the whole blanket being made of some kind of wool from a sheep, as well as adding the fact that the bed there wasn't comfortable, feeling like rods located inside the mattress in the dark room where I slept alone where I used to try to ignore the sounds…

This bed at the mental hospital is a lot better. Much more comfortable with lots of softness, which is the reason why I don't want to get out of bed yet. I know all of us, including me, have to start our therapy sessions, but I didn't want to go. It almost like I wanted to stay here…

With the blanket blocking my view, I shut my eyes, thinking about sleeping for the next five minutes when I felt someone lighty shaking me, startling me to the point where I flung from the blanket, the stuff bear barely falling to the floor. I caught it in time, setting it on the other side of me to see Jackson.

"Hey," he spoke softly, like he wasn't sure if I was up or not. "Ready to eat?" he asked, using his fingers to comb down his messy hair. "I went over to the cafe, seeing them making French toast," he informed me, placing his hand back down. "Unless...you like French toast…"

I rubbed my eyes when my stomach rumbled, my face turning slightly red due to how loud it was. "Yeah…" I answered with a stifled yawn, doing my best to wake up more. "I like French toast. It's one of my favorite meals back when I used to live with my real parents." After some stretching, I took my medications, both for my manic depression and for my schizophrenia. I'm not sure by taking two pills at the exact time is a good idea for being new - well not new - to two types of medications I need to take everyday, even though they'll work in a week or two.

Taking out a B12 vitamin pill, I was about to put it in my mouth when I remembered something. I have to have food in my stomach before taking it. So I told Jackson I'll be at the cafe, telling him I need to change clothes.

He smiled, understanding I need my privacy in order to put new clothes on. Even though there's a bathroom to get dressed in, I'm too lazy to use it. Instead, after he left to wait for me, I locked the door and closed the curtains of the window.

Pulling out a shirt and pants, I quickly took off my old clothes, tossing them on my bed. I put on my pants, buttoning them since it has a button to keep them up. I was about to put on my shirt when I heard knocking on the door, followed by a voice.

"Open up the door!" the person on the end demanded, the knocking getting louder by the second.

I instantly froze at my spot, the shirt in my grasp. It was Trevor! What the hell does he want with me now?! I can't unlock the door simply because I'm in my pants, along with no shirt on. I slipped it on super fast, making sure I have it on right. Then I went over to the door, standing there. I took a deep breath and spoke.

"What in the hell do you want, Trevor?! Had you have enough with me? Can't you see I don't want you bothering me anymore? How about you leave me the frick alone this instant?" I could feel him standing there, waiting for me to open the door. "I'm going to call security," I warned, hoping he'll get the hint.

I expected him to bang on the door some more. But he surprised me when he busted it open, breaking the lock, the door flying to wall, leaving a dent mark on the wall.

I let out a scream, his hands on me, pinning me on Jackson's bed. "Why didn't you open the door?" he snarled in full aggression.

"Get off me!" Using my feet, I kicked him in the stomach. "I was getting dressed. You don't need to see me without clothes on." I kicked some more until he finally released me from his grip, letting me sit up to see a disgusting smile on him.

The nasty smile never faded, playing with my hair. "I like to see girls without clothes on."

The way he said it made my mouth drop open. "You know what?" I got off the bed, slapping his hand off of me. "You don't have an ego problem; you're an insane person!" I spat angrly, getting grossed out by him. "I bet no girl ever wanted you."

"Yeah?" he scoffed with an eye roll. "How about you date me instead of Jackson? He's not the type of guy you want to have."

"Leave him out of this," I growled, balling my hands into tight fists, ready to punch him at any second. "You can't tell me what to do. Now leave me alone." Saying it didn't scare him off, and I decided to use a different approach. "I'll tell the people who work here you invaded my privacy when I was getting new clothes on." I turned around, facing away from him. "Plus, I'll never date you the way you treated me."

He can only send me a cold stare behind my back as I made my leave, heading my way to the cafe, giving me a chill throughout my body. I knew he hated me from being told on a couple of times by the adults who work here for being such a jerk towards me, reminding of someone who was in my dream I had several times, the dream being vivid.

I don't know why I had those types of dreams. I mean, dreams aren't real. They're part of your imagination when you sleep. They're either good dreams, bad dreams, and in some cases, nightmares. I never had nightmares. At least, not that I know of. I did had a flashback dream when Kelly screamed in my face for 'breaking' her vase even though it was completely Trevor's fault, telling her I did it in order for me to get beaten by his horrible father. Actually, all three of those people are horrible, making my life a living hell.

Knowing something else, I hadn't thought of my god brother in a short time; a couple of days. I wanted to know why he gets me in trouble, wanting to know why his family treated unfairly. Yes, I wasn't their biological daughter, but it's no excuse for the way they acted towards me.

I have a strange feeling I'll meet him - Trevor - someday from the dreams I had, all terrified in those.

Shaking my head at the silly thought, I brushed it off, continuing my way to the cafe, the vitamin pill ready in my pocket, my stomach hungry for breakfast.

When I arrived at the cafe, everyone was already at their tables enjoying their breakfast, talking and laughing, while I searched for Jackson. I spotted him waiting for me, gesturing his hand for me to come over to him.

With my cheeks blooming, I went over to him, finger combing through my hair and let out a sigh once I got up to him. I grabbed a tray, ready to eat. "Let's get our food," I kind of mumbled, stepping to the kitchen.

"Hazel?" I stopped, turning to face him. "Are you alright?" he asked in concern, taking a tray from the tray pile. "You look uncomfortable."

I hung my head. "It's nothing, Jackson. I'm fine…" I grabbed a box of orange juice from the basket, setting it on my tray.

"You don't look fine…" Jackson observed my mood, placing a box of grape juice on his own tray. "Tell me. What's wrong?"

Letting out another sigh, I bit my lip, taking a plate of French toast with no syrup on it. I wasn't sure how to tell him from how embarrassing it's going to be from all these other people eating their meal. However, I don't want to keep it to myself, and finally, I told him. "Trevor...was bothering me again." I lowered my head, making my way to the table - our table - near the window with him right behind me.

Sitting down in my chair, I picked up my fork, taking pieces of French toast. I put it in my mouth, chewing slowly as he sat across from me. He placed his tray down, ripping the straw off from the side of his grape juice box. Tearing the plastic off the thin straw, he poked it through the hole.

"Trevor was bothering you again?" he answered, sipping his drink. He put it on the table. "What did he do to you this time?" I can only shake my head, my face turning into a red tomato. "Come on, Hazel, you have to tell me," he insisted, like he was ready to beat the crap out of the guy. "It's not a good idea to keep things to yourself."

No matter how inappropriate it was, I mustered it up in order to tell him the truth. "Trevor said he likes it when girls don't have...clothes on."

"What?!" The fork dropped out of his hand, clattering onto the table top. I can tell he was shocked and disgusted at the same time. "Trevor is insane!" People are now staring at us from their tables when Jackson exclaimed out loud. "Doesn't he realize it's not right? Oh, I'm going to tell on him…" His face scrunched up in pure anger. "This dude needs to be kicked out of this place." Getting up from his chair, he was about to leave when I grabbed him by his shirt.

"No!" I cried, ignoring the staring eyes of everyone else. "The more you tell on him, the more he's gonna hate me!" Tears came to my eyes, fearing the worst of what's going to come. "Don't tell on him again. Please! I-I don't want you to-"

He took my hand, lightly prying it off of him. "He's going to keep it up unless he gets told off," he reasoned. "Besides, I believe he has enough time here. You're not the only girl he bothers. Let me tell an adult to what he said to you, alright?"

"Alright…" Jackson's reassurance calmed me a little. "Don't be too long or else your food will get told." I tried to say it the best I could, but the thought of Trevor's inappropriate meanings ae stuck in my head. I watched him leave, sitting back down at the table. Him leaving made me feel...alone… So I turned my head away, staring out the window.

Gazing from here, I ripped a piece of my French toast with my fingers, eating it every now and then. I know I can simply use my fork, but since my French toast has nothing on it, I decided it wouldn't hurt not to use any utensils. It's not like I'm in a nice, fancy restaurant everyone likes to go to. Especially the snobby, rich people who only care for themselves.

I finished half my plate, picking up my box of orange juice, doing the same process Jackson did. Ripping the straw off the side of the small box, I poked it through the closed-up hole. I took out my B12 pill, placing it in my mouth, underneath my tongue in case it had a bitter taste like my other pills.

For being such a tiny pill, I took one small sip of my drink, tasting the fresh squeeze of the orange flavor. I don't drink a lot of juice, but I do like the flavors of each one. I'm more of a water person, knowing it's important to put it in the bloodstream to keep the person from dehydrating, even though it's March - the cold season.

Setting my juice box down, I put a hand on cheek, resting my elbow on the table top, inches away from my plate. I went into deep thought, letting my mind go into a complete blank. I rather have nothing in my mind, feeling duller by the minute. I'm surprised I have friends who actually care about me for who I am. Most people would avoid others who are like me - a boring, unspirited, un-fun living individual soul. I can only wish to be happy again like I used to when I had my real parents.

It faded away when I started living with my god family. Now my mind is being filled with those people, seeing their hateful looks inside me. I wanted to go to them, to give them a piece of my mind, show them how I really feel. Only… I don't want Kelly to steam at me, don't want Jeff to hit me, don't want Travis to...touture me whenever he spotted me.

My god brother is the person I've been dreading for the most. I remember what he looked like, what he wore…everything. He wasn't a normal person like everybody else in the whole world who always towers over me, getting me into trouble… It makes me hate him and his family even more.

The more I think about them, the more hatred I felt for those jerks. I don't know why, but it seems like there will be a day where I'll end up meeting them somewhere… Or it could be my own, wild imagination.

Huh… I should write a story on the writing website Jackson talked to me about. What was it called? Wattpad? Except, I don't have a laptop or a computer to write my story. It won't be a long one. I want to write a short story, to give people my childhood life of what had happened to me, like all authors do when they write about themselves.

"I hate my life…" I put my head down and muffled, my hair draping over my arms lightly. "What did I ever do to them?" I began questioning, keeping my tone down where no one in the room can hear me, referring to the people I lived since I was five. "How comes they disapprove of me? I never did anything to them, other than the fact than living with them right after the car crash, killing both my real parents."

I had my head down for a while when I heard someone coming up to me. At first, I thought it would be the bothersome jerkface, avoiding him when he spoke. "Hazel." Getting my attention now from the familiar voice, seeing Jackson in front of me. "I told the lady at the front desk about what Trevor said," he informed me, rubbing the back of his head. "Although, there's something I have to tell you…"

My head shot up, catching his hesitation. I knocked down my box of orange juice, springing up from my chair like a ball. "What? What do you want to tell me?" I don't like the way he's feeling, making me feel anxious.

Dropping his hand to the side, he bit his lip. It only took him a few seconds until he finally gave me his words. "I'm...leaving…"

My mouth dropped open in pure shock. Leaving?! Already?!

"But-But-But I just met you several days ago!" I exclaimed loudly, the tears welling up in my eyes. "Was it because of me?"

"No, no, no. It's not because of you," Jackson assured me, seeing how upset I am. "The reason why I'm leaving is because I'm feeling a lot better. The lady at the desk told me to pack up my belongings." He couldn't leave the eye contact he was making with his silver colored eyes right at me. "It's alright, Hazel…" he comforted me, placing a hand on my shoulder, with me gazing away from him, locking my eyes on the floor.

I can only shake my head, the tears falling from my face. "It's not alright." I did my best to talk without me breaking from inside from my heart. "It's not fair either…" I sniffled, my nose running, starting to get more upset. "You got better faster than I did." My eyes went all gloomy, the emotion for him getting stronger. I never felt this way before in my life, not counting when Stine assured me he was going on a date with Lorraine.

Seeing how upset I was, Jackson gave me a simple, nice hug. I can sense the spark between us, feeling the embrace from his arms. I never flinched like I had last time when being contacted this way where I refuse any touching of any kind. There's something more to this posture, giving my heart warmth…

Releasing me, he stepped back with a full, loving smile. "You'll do fine without me…" he continued to assure me, wanting to make sure I understand. "You might get a new roommate too." I guess he expected me to feel a lot better by the way I'm feeling. A frown came upon him when my sadness towards him didn't fade away. "Well, uh, guess I better start packing my things."

As he was about to go, I stopped him. "Wait. I'll help pack your things," I sorrowfully stepped up, the unhappiness all around my aura. My face bloomed after I volunteered, thinking he can do it by himself. "Actually, I know you can do it by yourself," I bet softly, brushing my toa on the smooth, hard floor. "You don't need my…"

Even though he knew I was flustered by the fact where I want to help him, he simply smiled. "You can help me; no problem. I just need to grab my cup at the art therapy room. I want to see what it looks like." He jogged away, barely bumping into two girls. They don't seem to mind, more likely distracted by something else. Also, they were the same girls who sat at our original table.

They saw me looking at them, giving me a warm smile, sending me friendly waves. They don't look ill to be honest. I'm not trying to offend them for being the way they are, but I believe it's a good idea to go up and ask them why they're here. So with a deep breath, I went up to them. "Excuse me?" I began to say. "I hope this doesn't offend you with this question, but, um, why are you here? In this mental hospital, I mean."

They both turned to each other, the one biting her tongue, chewing it. The second girl released a sigh. "We're here for being tortured back at home," she said, now avoiding me.

I gasped, unable to believe what I had heard from her. "You were tortured?" I exclaimed, the shockness with me, replacing my depression. "What did they do to you?" I asked concerningly.

The first girl hung her head. "They beat us…"

"Beat you?" I questioned, starting to feel about them.

"...every night," the second girl added mournfully. "They never liked us, so we came here for help. They're in jail now, letting me and my sister not to worry about them anymore." A sigh escaped from her. "The problem we have is trying to find a new home. The people who work here suggested we should stay at a foster home, but...we don't want to."

"We're afraid we'll separated from each other…" the first girl feared, showing it clearly. She then looked at me. "Do you have parents?" she suddenly asked.

I felt a lump in my throat, wanting to be forced out of my mouth. Taking a deep breath, I manage to swallow it down, taking a deep breath.

"My real parents died in a car crash a long time ago when I was really young - too young to start school. I ended up living with my god family, a type of family who are friends with the child's real parents. They take the child to give them lots of care in case they can't live with any of their other relatives. Only… My god family are not kind at all. My god mother will scream at me, my god brother will tell lies to his dad, also known as my god father, to beat the crap out of me. Eventually, I ran away when I was around five years old."

When I finished, both of them couldn't believe what I had been through. One of them sparked a tear in her eyes, quickly wiping them away.

"We're sorry to hear that," she compassionately stated, feeling bad for me. "That's the reason why you're here?"

"I'm actually here for my mental illnesses I have now." I pulled my chair over to theirs, leaving my food behind. "I'm not afraid to tell you what I have. I have manic depression and schizophrenia, which means I change moods a lot and see or hear things that aren't even there," I explained the meaning behind those illnesses. "To me, it's from god family and the kids back in kindergarten who made fun of me from the books I like to read," I believed.

"Books?" The second girl perked her head up with an interest form. "What books do you read?" she inquired, moving a part of her hair away from her left eye.

I drummed my fingers on the table, somehow feeling nervous to tell them about the book series I always enjoyed reading when I was really young. The girls I'm chatting to seem to be older than me, around in their early twenties. I don't want them to laugh at me as I slowly told them what I like to read. "I like to read… Goosebumps books."

By the time that word slid off my tongue, both girls dropped their mouths open, like I said something bad. Finally, the second girl broke the pause around us. "You read Goosebumps books!?"

"Is there a problem about it?" My mood shifted into a sliver of both anger and guilt, knowing right away I shouldn't tell them about the books I enjoy. "If you girls criticize the series - my favorite series - you should get up and walk away. I don't need to hear what crap you have to say about my favorite thing in the whole world ever since I was little." I huffed out a breath, upon waiting for them to say anything else.

When I thought they're going to laugh and point their fingers at me, I was surprised when the second girl explained her reaction. "We read the books too."

"Used to read the books," her sister corrected the term. "We stopped reading them about when we were around twelve," she added, directing her head to me. "Since our parents have been horrible around us, they took the books, burning them."

"Wait." I raised my hand to stop her for a quick second. "How old were you were you when you came to this place?"

"Me and her were twelve when we came here. We grew up in the late nineteen-nineties. We started reading those books when me and her were ten years old, finding them at Barnes And Nobles for only a dollar. They were cheap back then before the prices went up."

"Yeah!" A beaming smile came on the first girl's face. "We would go there everyday after school. We would then hide them in our room - under our beds, thinking our terrible parents would not find the books." The smile slowly faded away from her. "We thought we can out smart them for how strict they can be around us… But...they found them...and toss them in the fire…"

"Why?" I never meant to interrupt, I was...shock to say the least. "Do they know how important those books are? Do they know who wrote the books?" The girls lowered their heads with no response. "Your god forsaken parents can't burn the books! Do they know who Stine is!?" I felt eyes on me when the pitch of my voice picked up. "He's the writer of all of those books! Those people who are your parents shouldn't-" I cut off my own ramble, calming myself down for the anger not to get the toll of me. "Your parents are cruel…" I grumbled in a mutter tone.

They both agreed with nodding heads when I felt someone standing next to me. Looking over to the right, my face blushed when I saw Jackson with two cups in each hand by the handles. He forward the purple cup, the one I made, towards me. "Here. Both of our cups are done."

Both girls giggled, their hands over their mouths, seeing the handsomeness all over him. I think all the girls have crushes on this dude at this place. It's starting to make me...jealous.

I stood up, taking my hand-made cup. "Thanks." The two girls giggled some more as my face grew warmer. "Stop it," I hissed at them, ceasing their submitted laughs. "I know he's cute-"

"Ooo!" the first girl expressed. "Did you say he's cute? Because he sure is!" Giggle. "Only it seemed he found the one." The one? "Well, me and my sister gotta go to our one and one therapy sessions." But before she left, she stuck out her hand. "I'm Cindy, by the way."

"And I'm Jenny," her sister piped up, giving her hand to me as well.

I shook their hands, the fear of being touched still there, but not badly as it was before. "Hazel." They both smiled at my name. "I'll...I'll be going now," I departed, walking backwards, then spun around, heading to the sleeping room.

Helping him with the packing, I couldn't help but to feel upset about him leaving, feeling like we had just met since I first came to this special hospital when Stine dropped me off. To me, it wasn't fair for him to leave before I do. I wanted to get better faster, but it the meds say they would work within a week or two.

Maybe my illnesses will decrease in a week, I hoped, handing over some pair of jeans to Jackson, who stuffed them in his suitcase. However, my therapist back home did told that some people get better faster than others.

This got me jealous to the point where I want to call Stine, demanding him to come pick me up. Only it wasn't a good idea to do so, knowing I'm better than that. He gave his phone number to the front desk lady for her to call him when they believe I'm all better, which will take time. I haven't been here at this place for long unlike others who would be here for years, having me feel bad for them.

After helping my crush pack up his things, he grabbed the handle of his suitcase with one hand, while using the other one to grab his flute. He saw my sad expression, giving me a hug.

"You'll be fine," he assured me into my ear, his breath going down my neck. "Besides, you'll get a new roommate. And hey, I bet the new one will be friendly as I am." I knew he was trying his best to get me to smile, except I remain this way.

Sighing, I backed up from him. "You should get going…" I advised him. "I don't want to be late for my therapy session with Dr. Snyder."

"Okay." Walking to the doorway, he stopped. "Do me a favor, please. Do me one favor - smile." He grinned as if to give me an example. "See you this way makes me upset too sometimes," he said. "So please smile for me when you return back to Stine's place. Do you promise?"

"...I promise…" I barely mumbled, knowing for a fact it'll never work, though I'll do my best. "See you some other time, Jackson."

"See you some time later too." Sending me a wave, he walked out the door, his stuff in tow.

After he vanished, I let out another sigh, walking out the door to get to my therapy session, seemingly to drag myself there.