Chapter Two:
On the day of their first trip, about a week later, Charlie was nearly bouncing out of her seat with excitement. They were even getting out of their first and second periods, so that was an added bonus.
"Are you excited?" one of Charlie's classmates inquired as she took a seat next to the brunette on the decrepit old school bus. Her frizzy black hair stuck out in every direction away from her pale, freckled face, and her dark eyes glittered happily.
"Yeah I am," Charlie replied with a grin. "How 'bout you?"
"I'm a little nervous, actually," the smaller girl answered. "And my name's Jess, by the way."
"Charlotte," the brunette smiled. "Charlie for short, though."
The two became fast friends on the ride to Smith's Grove Mental Hospital, bouncing excitedly in their seats and chattering happily until the bus spluttered to a stop in front of the nondescript brick building, emitting a loud pop of backfire.
"Now remember class!" Ms. Cooper announced before letting them off. "The person you pick today will be your pen-pal partner for the rest of the year! So pick wisely children! And mind the rules!"
Then she led them off the bus and through the thick chain-link, barbed-wire topped fence and into the hospital.
"Oh man, this is so cool…" Jess murmured in awe as they entered a large room filled with small three- and four-person tables. Little groups of patients milled around idly, waiting for the students.
"Yeah it is," Charlie replied while the two followed the rest of the students farther into the room.
"Alright everyone!" Ms. Cooper crowed, "Get busy!"
Jess gave Charlie a bright smile and wandered away towards a small knot of patients while the taller brunette lingered by the wall, suddenly a little unsure of herself. Her deep moss-colored eyes scanned the big room, watching her classmates integrate, and finally came to a rest on a far, shadowed corner.
There was a man there, sitting by himself and staring sightlessly at the disinfected white tabletop. Chains bound his wrists and ankles to the thick metal chair, and lank, unkempt dark blond hair obscured his pale face. Charlie froze as her eyes locked on his behemoth frame, and her heart began to pound almost painfully against her ribs. Without even thinking she slowly moved towards him, her folder clutched against her chest and her throat going dry. A dark aura permeated the air around the big man, and yet the teen found that she seemed to have lost all communication with her legs. She continued to move forward until she finally came to a halting stop at the edge of his table across from him.
"Um… hi," she mumbled, her tanned cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he slowly raised his head to look at her. Dark blue, nearly black eyes locked onto the younger girl and a slight frown creased his wan, emaciated face. "My name's Charlie," she added pathetically.
After her quiet words an awkward silence stretched between the two, their eyes locked in a deep gaze that left the brunette swallowing dryly. Then he looked down at her pale blue folder, and she quickly held it out to him.
"I-it's for a school project," she explained to him. "We would write to each other."
His piercing gaze flickered back and forth between the young girl, with her riotous tawny hair and big doe-eyes, and her proffered folder. But as she spoke in her tentative, halting voice, the big man noticed the door across the room opening, and watched as two guards entered.
"You don't have to… you know, if you don't want to…"
The brunette's words pulled his attention back to her, as she stood uncertainly before him with her folder clutched in white-knuckled, trembling hands. He knew his being here with these children was an accident. He knew that the men quickly crossing the room, their gazes intent on him and the teenager, were coming to take him away. For a moment he considered just ignoring the child and letting them take him. What did he need with some little girl writing idiotic notes to him all the time anyways, probing into things she couldn't even imagine in her worst nightmares? He had heard the doctors telling everyone earlier about the interveiws the students were going to be doing. But as the guards got closer, he couldn't seem to help it as he reached out and took her folder and the felt pen she offered. (There were no ballpoint pens or pencils allowed.) Then he scrawled his name at the bottom of the paper she pointed out to him and it was done. As the men pulled him to his feet and shooed the little girl away, he wondered fleetingly how long it would take for her first letter to come.