AN: I have decided to make original oneshot into a story due to the popular outcome. Feel free to leave a review of the story or a prediction of what you think will happen!
Enjoy!

Chapter Two: Claire or Carter?

I woke up the next day in my cold cell after my usual nightmare that resulted in orderlies knocking me unconscious. The floor and walls were cracked hard cement, the room providing no insulation to heat my weak body. A health inspector had probably never visited the facility or if he did he just simply didn't care about the condition the asylum was in. I was constantly cold and hungry, which didn't help with "curing" my madness. My dimly lit room always had me thinking there was something in the shadows even though I knew there wasn't. I never believed in monsters or ghosts, but my mind was starting to trick me otherwise late at night when I would suspect a creature was hidden in the unseen areas under my bed.
I stood slowly as I yawned, checking my brown leather watch. Nine in the morning? I slept that late? I gave a tiny chuckle as I thought back to Petey and the dream I had, apparently had been exhausted. It wasn't a laugh because it was funny, but rather sad. I'm still having dreams about the incident which ended me up here. Did it mean something, like a spiritual sign, or was I just crazy?
I stood and walked to my large metal door that sealed me away from the hallways of the building. The schedule at the asylum was actually alright with me. Sleep until we woke up, be let out (if we want to), go outside or to a large rec room that was down the hall, waste time there until dinner or when we wanna go back, eat dinner in our rooms, take a shower in the community showering area, then spend the rest of the night in our rooms. I was fine with all of this because I didn't have to do anything I didn't want to and that included showering. Disgustingly, some inmates haven't showered since they arrived, which may be years ago. The orderlies don't care what we do and without a health inspector to keep things in line, we are basically free.

Ha. "Free".

I slowly knocked on my door and shifted, hating the lingering cold in the air. "Hey! Theo! I'm up!"
Theo's familiar voice groaned as he stood on guard in the large hallway. Theo muttered to himself, "Sadly, you are."
He went with his large ring of keys to the door, glancing at me through the small hole near the top. I believe it was made to have bars or glass in between the empty spaces, but nobody bothered. I was impossible to climb out of it, the space being as big as a lunch tray that they typically stuffed through to feed us. He unlocked my door, opened it, and then stood in the doorway. He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes down at me. "Alright, Smith. Where are 'ya goin'?"
I scoffed and matched his attitude, crossing my arms back. I asked, raising an eyebrow, "Would you ask that to another inmate?"
He chuckled and shook his head, shrugging. "Actually, no, I wouldn't. You are . . . special."
He laughed, his voice deep as it stung in my ears. He would get what he deserved for the half playful teasing someday.
I sighed, "I just wanna go watch TV, okay? I'm sick of being in my cell."
He smirked and stepped aside. "Can't do the time don't do the crime."
I turned to face him and growled, glaring, "I didn't do anything except lead morons. I didn't do any crime, idiot."
I stomped off into the hallway that led to the recreation room.

Theo isn't a bad man. He isn't too mean and attempts to show he cares even though his words may say otherwise. He before, when I first arrived and was a screaming and sobbing, waited for me to calm down to chat with me. Each hour he would come and knock on my door and ask me if I was hungry or cold. I, then, would just scream obscene words at him and threaten him through tears. He would just nod, leave, and then return the next hour.
He did this eight times until I was finally exhausted and slightly relaxed. He had come in and sat on my bed with me. After telling me this place wasn't so bad, attempting to make me feel better, he hugged me. I hadn't experienced a hug or any form of affection in a long time. When he hugged me he mumbled, "You are gonna do just fine here, kid. I can tell you aren't gonna stay here forever. You ain't a lost cause."
It was that memory that tends to stick with me when things get rough at night or when my thoughts slip towards the idea of ending my life. He was kind and showed it, often giving me a hard time playfully.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not saying I like him or consider him a friend, but he is much more understanding then the other staff, who likes to mock me and even go as far as to trip me when I walk by.

I walk to the recreation room and scan it. Three card tables that had the chairs full with patients playing, one static television with a green couch in front, and four large steel doors in the room, including the one I had entered. I sighed as I heard the delusional patients talk and yell at each other over the card game. I sat against the far white brick wall that held the television against it a few feet away. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine, of all places, that I was back at Bullworth. The loud chatting and cold air was the same if I was in my dorm. My dorm was a distant memory. All those hours of planning in my room for several weeks, skipping classes and using others, all gone to waste. Every bit of it. I felt anger start to rise inside of me thinking about how long it took me to devise the plan that I thought was fool-proof. I suddenly heard a voice in my ear next to me say softly, "Belle cicatrice."
I gave an audible gasp and snapped my eyes open, instantly jerking my head away and looking at the person the voice came from. A person that looked seventeen smiled, crouching next to me. They had tanned skin, dark brown freckles on their face, pink lips that were smirking at me, long dark brown hair that went to the shoulders, and emerald green shimmering eyes. The person smiled and repeated, "Belle cicatrice!"
I raised an eyebrow. It was hard to determine if it was a male or female. The long hair could go either way and the person didn't have any gender striking features, but wasn't this a male asylum? I asked, not in the mood to mess around with some stranger, "Are you speaking your own language or something? You- How about you just go, huh? I don't feel like listening to some idiot babble on in an imaginary language."
The person chuckled and sat down next to me. They smiled and stated, "French. I am speaking French. I said, 'nice scar'."
I scoffed and looked away, apparently the person not getting the hint. I harshly asked, "What are you? A girl? You look like a girl. A stupid one."
The human laughed and smiled, revealing the straight white teeth. They beamed, "I am a girl, silly."
I slowly turned to face her. I studied her appearance and cocked an eyebrow, still not sure. She had a completely flat chest and baggy pants, no way of telling without the obvious reveal.

She rolled her eyes when she saw where I was looking. She playfully hit my shoulder and giggled out, "Trust me, okay? I think I would know if I was a girl."
Her voice sounded feminine. I was very confused.
I tsked and shrugged, it not mattering. "Alright. Fine. What do you want?"
She shrugged as she watched me. She whispered happily, "Just looking for someone to sit with."
I glanced at her and thought for a moment. Was she any useful? She seemed kinda bubbly and ditsy, but it could be just an act. Everybody here has some fake presence about them, like prison. Mine was that I was tougher than I really was, but I would never admit it.
I guess her sitting with me couldn't hurt too much. As long as she wasn't a total lunatic I could try to put up with her. I gave her a stern look and firmly said, "You can stay, but if you start to annoy me, you're gone. Got it?"
She squeaked happily and clapped her olive hands together quickly. She squealed, "Thank you! I am really nice!"
I closed my eyes tightly. She was already annoying. I nodded and mumbled, "Alright. Cool. Whatever."
She grinned and stuck her hand out. "I'm Claire."
I opened one eye and saw her hand. Refusing her offer as I reclosed my eye. I blandly returned, "Gary."

She smiled and lowered her hand. "Hey, Gary. That is a really cool scar. How did you get it?"
I whispered, trying to mentally drown her out, "Icicle accident."
She smirked. "Really?"
No. Not really. I never told anyone the real, sad reason why I had this ugly scar across my right eye. Nobody deserved to know except one person who was far away from this dreaded asylum. The one person I was still dreaming of and desperately missing. I often told various stories about how I got my scar. It entertained me because the victims of the false statement always believed it.
I nodded slowly and lied, "Yeah. Happened a long time ago."

Before she could respond, I opened my eyes and stood. I peered down at the medium height figure and said, "I'm going to my dorm- I mean, cell. Don't follow me."
I began walking away toward the exit as she scrambled to her feet and grabbed my sleeve. "Gary- Wait!"
An orderly saw her touch my clothing. The orderly that I wasn't familiar with quickly yelled, "Carter! Don't touch others! We've talked about this."
I raised an eyebrow and faced her as she removed her small hand from my worn patient uniform. Carter? Was that the first or last name?
She frowned and took a few steps from me, lowering her head. "Sorry."

I blinked a few times before turning and quickly walking back to my cell. Claire seemed gentle and harmless, but apparently she had a personal space problem. She also seemed like a he. I don't recall ever seeing another female in the facility from my short time spent in this awful place. Maybe she really was a girl.
Or maybe that was just his act.