Yo, Friend-os!

Sorry for the late update! School's coming up and I've been really busy with things!

And for those of you reading my other stories, I'll be posting the updates on those soon as I can! I'm working on several things at once as well as a few new fanfics and a one-shot! Exciting things are in the future, my friends! :D

Anyway, hopefully you guys enjoy this one as much as the others! Things are getting more and more interesting! ;)

Hope you like!

-Blythe

Chp 6: Mysterious Scars

The halls of ward D seems to be brewing with activity as Alvin walked closely behind Dr. Walters. Doors were opening and closing, people in each room were being escorted by people in physician's coats to close locations, and there were even a few people that seemed to be following them. Perhaps they were in the group therapy session Alvin was in?
Whatever the case, Alvin had never actually seen anybody come in or out of the D hallway besides himself, so it was overwhelming seeing all of these people emerging from their rooms at the same times - it made him feel like he lived in the midst of moving cogs in the mechanics of a clock.
"Where are all these people going?" Asked Alvin, "Is everyone on the same time schedule?"
"Actually, Alvin," Replied the doctor, "A lot of these patients are going to be joining us for group therapy. You'll be meeting lots of new people today!"
The red-clad boy huffed, crossing his arms across his chest. This was bad news.

Alvin wasn't happy about the new arrangement for him to get group therapy. The thought of sitting in a room full of people with mental issues and sob stories nauseated him - what was the purpose? All anybody ever does at these things is cry about their problems and share their testimonies about how miserable their existences were before their time at the ward. It was counterproductive, in Alvin's opinion. What if someone in the group told a haunting story that ended up scaring another member of the group? What if someone says something about what they did to get in here and another patient gets inspired and decides to do the same? How well is group therapy actually thought out?

These new realizations haunted Alvin; perhaps he should tell the doctor that he doesn't feel like it's a good idea. Maybe the doctor will reconsider his placement in the institution once he sees that Alvin's trying to advocate for himself. If so, relocation could mean him being put in the E wing. E wing means freedom to do whatever you please. It means not being limited to just the C, D, and E hallways and being allowed to do what you want. The E wing was his ticket out of this horrible place. No therapy groups, medications, or intensive psychiatric treatments. Freedom.

Dr. Walters and Alvin turned the corner at the end of the C wing and entered a room that was the size of a small exercise space - the place had shiny Kempas hardwood floors and padded, soundproofed walls that, once again, held no pictures. It looked like it had once been a gymnasium, but it was eventually turned into a community center for holding group therapy sessions after it most likely didn't pass the construction codes required for mental hospitals. Along the walls were chair racks where patients were noisily taking down chairs to unfold and sit on in a semi-circle fashion facing the entrance. When Alvin examined the floor by his feet, he noticed there were black skid mark stains scattered about from someone's sneakers and he could still see spots on the floor where someone had carelessly ripped up the boundary tape during remodelling.

When Alvin looked back up, he realized he was being watched by a sea of about thirty pairs of unfamiliar eyes. His stomach did a flip.
"Ladies and Gents, this is Alvin. He just checked in yesterday."
The room stirred as people leaned toward each other and whispered. The doctor cleared his throat and waited until silence was restored to the room.
"Anyway, I'd like you all to give him a warm welcome. He'll be joining us for our next few sessions," Dr. Walters peered down at Alvin whose face couldn't get more flushed. Alvin hated this kind of attention; it was the awkward feeling of being the new kid on the block. He was the shiny new toy - target practice for mockery and childlike taunting. He remembered that feeling from when he came here the first time.
"Alvin, would you like to say something?"
The boy shook his head and frantically searched for a place to go where he'd be out of the spotlight. His fingers were beginning to twitch and he was desperately hoping no one noticed.
"Okay, Alvin. Take a seat, please. We're going to begin now."
Alvin nervously shuffled through the rows of spectators, looking around for a vacant place to sit. When he was finding no chairs available, he made his way to the very back so that he may stand instead. He didn't mind standing for an hour or so - he'd rather be on his feet for a while rather than causing a commotion by taking out a chair from the rack.
Before he reached the back of the room, he suddenly heard a soft voice calling out to him, "Hey! Excuse me? You can sit here!"
Alvin whirled around in search for the voice that was calling for him. It was a familiar voice that belonged to an unfamiliar girl: she was sitting in the very last row, patting an empty seat next to her for him to sit down. The girl was somewhat plump, wearing an olive green dress with white-laced lining, smiling widely with strawberry toned lips and puffy pink cheeks. She had little blonde pigtails and chocolate brown eyes that were wide and staring up at him in wonder. Alvin carefully took a seat next to her.
"Hi!" She greeted, "My name's Eleanor Fitzgerald, but you can call me Ellie."
"Um...h-hi Ellie. I'm Alvin." He responded apprehensively. He didn't know if he was too comfortable with eager people like her. When it came to social capabilities, Alvin wasn't too keen on meeting just anybody he came in contact with. The same could not be said seven years ago since Alvin practically lived his whole life in the social buzz back then. Nowadays, he was quite shy compared to his old self.
"Hello, Alvin!" The girl chirped, "How funny! My friend Teddy has a big brother named Alvin whom he speaks very fondly of! You don't happen to have a little brother named Teddy, do you?"
Alvin shook his head slowly.
"Oh, well then it must just be a popular name!" She said sweetly, folding her hands on her lap, "So which wing are you on?"
"I'm on wing D," he answered slowly, putting his hands in his pockets, "A-and you?"
"I'm on the C wing! I've been here for almost a year now!"
Alvin nodded, looking down to the floor. As his eyes travelled downward, he noticed there were thick, white bandages braced around each of Ellie's wrists underneath the cuffs of her shirt. It took him awhile to process what that meant - it was clear why she was on the C wing and not the high functioning D or E wings. The girl caught him looking at the bandages and immediately pulled down her sleeves, clearing her throat and beginning a new subject.
"So...have you ever been to one of these meetings?" She asked.
Meanwhile, Alvin's gaze hadn't moved away from her wrists.
"Alvin?"
"Hm?" He said, blinking a few times before looking up at her. He suddenly felt like he knew too much about her than what he was comfortable with.
"I said, have you ever been to one of these meetings?"
"Not...really," he replied, keeping his eye contact with her to a minimum. He leaned forward in his seat and took off his hat, nervously bending the ridge with his fists. Ellie examined his face and sat back in her seat, trying to figure out where it was she'd seen him before.
"Have we met before?" She asked, tilting her head. There was something about this boy...something she'd seen before. But she couldn't quite put the pieces together. Alvin's eyebrows pulled together as he processed her question.
"I don't think so, why?"
"N-nothing..." she said in the midst of serious thought, "You just...it's just that you look so familiar... Were you here last June?"
"No... I haven't been here for a year and a half."
"When were you last here then? Like, what month and year?"
"November of 1992, why?" asked Alvin. He moved away from her slightly as she began to lean towards him. He now wished he'd chosen to stand in the back.
"Oh. Nevermind then..." She sighed, "it's just that...forget it."

Fifteen minutes went by and Alvin's mind was scattered - it was hard to pay attention to anything going on in the front of the room. Dr. Walters had an easel and a large drawing pad and was writing down what looked like some kind of chart. From where Alvin was sitting, he couldn't see anything that was being written at all, nor could he hear what was being said. He looked at Ellie, who was looking down at her feet and clicking her heels together, making a soft tapping sound.
"Are we supposed to be taking notes?" He asked her. She shook her head.
"Nope. All we have to do is sit and listen!"
"Well, can you hear what he's saying?"
Ellie laughed, "Nope! I never do!"
Alvin leaned back in his seat again, outstretching his legs. He looked at his wrist where his watch usually was, but then he remembered that they'd taken the watch when he was checked in a few days ago. His wrist felt naked; stripped. And that wasn't the only thing that felt odd - he also felt strange being in this hospital again. The air was so much different than back at home. It was...lighter; the air in his house on Cedar Drive was so concentrated and thick. When he lived with Dave, he felt like at any moment, Dave would get up and walk out, leaving him alone in an empty space that was far too big for just himself. The feeling of spatial loneliness was heavier and more unbearable than the thought of being surrounded by strangers.

Alvin began to remember a time when he was ten when Dave had taken him to the annual town fair in an attempt to make him feel better a few months after his mother had just been taken off of life support. It was one of Alvin's most vivid memories aside from the accident - there were so many lights and noises around him. The festive cycloramas of blue, red and yellow lights flashed and danced around him, making him feel small as he pushed through the crowd of carnival goers. The carnival music from the merry-go-round played endless classical melodies as the mechanical horses bobbed up and down and there was a booming "BAM" and a "CLANG" of the high strikers next to the game booths and prize pits. Alvin's nose was sensitive to the many smells and tastes in the carnival air - the pungent aroma of fried dough and cotton candy could be smelled from miles away, and if you opened your mouth, you could even taste the candied caramel-coated popcorn. And all those people that swarmed in crowds around him - they came to take part in blowing their money on a one-time memory.

Even though he and his brothers used to go to the carnival every year, it felt so foreign to him without them. He'd never felt so alone in all his life. His brothers weren't here anymore, so there was no point in going this time around. Did Dave really think that going to the carnival was going to fill the empty void of two lost siblings? Did Dave even think about the emptiness at all?

Before Alvin had time to think adversely about his adoptive father, a few outbursts interrupted his thoughts.

"Hey, look who it is! It's the Ice Queen!"

"Ice Queen! Why're you so late?"

"Look who finally decided to show up! Ice Queen!"

"Hey there, Queenie! Have you made anyone cry today?"

Alvin turned his attention to the doorway across the room. It was her - the girl from 60C; the girl named Brittany. She was being escorted through the door in a wheelchair by two nurses: one was assisting with her oxygen and her IVs, and the other one wheeled her in. Brittany was looking down at the floor, her face deep red from embarrassment. Alvin nudged Ellie as people continued to jeer at the girl.

"Why are they calling her the Ice Queen?" He whispered.

Ellie glanced around her to see if anyone was eavesdropping, then she leaned over and replied softly, "She's one of the most infamous patients in this institution."

"Why?"

"Well...I heard that she got in here after trying to lock herself in one of those industrial sized freezers five years ago when she was eleven. She was on the C wing for the first year she was here, but then they put her in the A wing immediately when she went haywire one day and chucked a bunch of silverware at her assisting nurse. I hear she's the youngest patient in the building to ever be put in the A wing. I also heard she was put in the quiet room once!"

"Wow. Really?" Alvin was astonished. He'd never seen someone so disturbed in person before, "Wait...why did she lock herself in a freezer?"

"Some say she was trying to kill herself," Ellie decreased the volume of her voice drastically, "You see, her mother used to lock her in an ice box when she was little. The police found her nearly frozen to death in her mother's freezer when she was six. It was all over the news a back then, so it's no secret. I guess it really messed her up. She's been in and out of this place ever since."

"That's...that's absolutely horrifying," Alvin mumbled. He felt his chest gradually cave in at the thought of her as a six year-old little girl being frozen in an ice box. She must've suffered from severe post traumatic stress issues after that. It wouldn't be a surprise knowing the amount of pain the experience put her through - it probably explained why she looked so fragile.

"Is that why she looks so sick?" He asked, keeping his eyes on the girl's strawberry blonde hair. The poor thing looked more and more sickly every time he looked at her.

"I think so, yes. I wouldn't be surprised if that experience caused her to have severe developmental issues. Hypothermia can really do some damage on a six year-old's body and brain."

"Yeah..." Alvin watched as someone threw a ball of paper at her. She didn't flinch.

"...why is everyone being so mean to her?"

"Well... she never usually acts like this. In fact, she's usually mean and disruptive during group therapy. I guess something happened that's making her quieter today..."

Alvin nodded, "I-i guess..."

He realized that he was feeling something different toward the girl, something he never really felt toward anyone - sympathy This must've been what it felt like to everyone else when they heard about his own story - about the accident and his own losses. It was a terrible, guilted feeling that made it hard for him to swallow. This was the girl he'd lectured this morning - the girl who he'd intruded on and called an immature child. She was sitting motionless in the wheelchair making no sound, no movement... and she looked positively miserable. He wished she'd look up for a moment just so he could see those penetrating blue eyes of hers beneath her long, raven-black eyelashes. All he wanted was her to look up just once...but she wouldn't.

Ellie began to notice that Alvin was staring at Brittany.

"Have...you two met before?" she inquired curiously. Alvin's gaze didn't move away.
"Hm? Um...well, yeah. Her room's just around the corner from mine." he said, playing it as cool as he could. He wished he could push out of his mind what had happened earlier, but it bothered him knowing that he potentially just ruined her day. Even seeing her get angry would look better than watching her like this.

"Oh, well good luck," laughed Ellie, "I hear she has fits every night. It wakes everyone up. You might want to ask Dr. Walters about moving to a room further down the D wing to avoid getting woken up at 2am...!"

"Okay," acknowledged Alvin, not paying any of his attention to Ellie. The fact was, Alvin didn't want to move to a room further away from the girl. He didn't know what it was about her, but she was...different. She was an enigma; a jigsaw puzzle with several missing pieces that he was still interested in putting together; a doll with torn stitches that he wished he could sew back together...

A mystery that he wanted to solve.

Later:

Things seemed to wind down by lunch time after Alvin had spent most of his day jumping around from therapy session to therapy session. His schedule was a jumbled mess of meetings ranging from physical therapy to emotional support therapy and since he seemed to be scheduled around the clock, he never truly had time to settle into his room yet. It was now 4pm and Alvin's jaw was starting to ache from all the talking he'd been doing that day. It was time to retire for a while in room 1D.

Entering his room, Alvin immediately decided that he would sit in his window for a few minutes to cool down. It felt good to be able to look out of his window and see the brilliance of colors below him: the variety of flowers, bushes, and trees that were planted in the courtyard contrasted nicely with the healthy patches of grass that surrounded them. Everything was so vivid and elegant. He didn't remember ever seeing a garden that was so well nurtured as this one - someone must have really cherished it for it to look this perfect.

Alvin looked through the window of 60C, hoping to find the girl who resided there looking out at the garden like she had been earlier, but she wasn't there. The lights were off and he couldn't see anything in her room through the darkness. He was disappointed.

She's probably still in therapy, he thought, looking around to the other neighboring windows. No one seemed to be looking out their windows that evening.

Suddenly, there came an unexpected knock at the door followed by a familiar voice.

"Hello? Alvin?" said the voice. Alvin turned to the direction of the voice to see a young man around his age standing before him, a textbook and a couple of folders clutched in one arm and a notebook in the other with a navy satchel hanging from his shoulder. He had large, circular, thick-framed glasses and a blue button-down shirt that was tucked into his jeans, revealing that he was narrowly framed and most likely taller than Alvin, and he had stony blue eyes that matched the color of the buttons descending down his shirt. There was something hauntingly familiar about this boy: he had remarkable similarities to Steven, Alvin's younger brother. Tall, skinny, glasses, blue-eyes...

Steven? Alvin thought silently, No...it can't be...

"Hello, Alvin." said the boy, "My name's Simon. Simon Blackwell. I'm your peer tutor."

Alvin shook hands with the boy, trying not to show his disappointment. He looked so much like Steven, but it wasn't him. It couldn't be and Alvin knew it - Steven was dead.

"Hi, Simon. Nice to meet you." said Alvin politely, pasting on a false smile. Simon seemed distraught by Alvin's response.

"So you still don't remember me...that's okay, I guess." he mumbled, setting up a workstation on the table. This puzzled Alvin; what was he supposed to remember about this guy? Had they met before? If so, Alvin couldn't recall...

"I'm not sure what you mean-"

"So today, I think I'll just be informing you of the things you missed at school during your absences." Interrupted Simon, pulling two chairs over to the table, "does that sound good?"

"Mhm," Alvin agreed hesitantly, watching as Simon took a binder out of his satchel.

"Okay. I'm going to be recording our lessons so that I can assess your academic strengths and weaknesses as we go along, alright? This will help me determine the best way to teach you terms and certain topics without you getting confused."

While Simon spoke, Alvin discovered something odd about Simon's face: at a closer glance, Simon had severe scarring of the skin tissues under his eyes and on his eyelids. He also seemed to have hair follicle discoloration on both of his eyes - his eyelashes and parts of his eyebrows were an unnatural white color instead of the sandy, light brunette color of his hair. It was one of the most peculiar things Alvin had ever seen on a person. Perhaps Simon suffered from a serious skin condition?

Then Alvin caught something that disturbed him most of all - Simon had a huge, diagonal scar that ran from the base of his right ear up to the right side of his forehead and it seemed to cave slightly into his face. It was one of the most ghastly scars Alvin had ever seen on anybody. It looked like whatever had happened to him required serious stitches - like he'd bashed his head open or had a serious fall. Simon looked perfectly normal from a safe distance, but up close, his face looked like a retired war zone.

"Um, Simon?" Said Alvin, diffidently interrupting Simon's spiel on memorization tactics, "I know we just met, but...can I ask you something?"

Simon seemed hopeful, putting his pen down on the table, "Uh-huh! Go right ahead."

"Okay...um... How did you- I mean...what happened to your face?" asked Alvin, feeling quite nosy and obtrusive. It was never in Alvin's nature to be so forward with someone he'd just met, even during the days when he was younger and outgoing! But the curiosity plagued him - he didn't know if he could be taught anything if he was too busy staring at the scars on Simon's face.

Simon stirred uncomfortably in his seat like he was carefully considering something in his mind. After a minute or so, he gave a polite smile.

"Let's just call it...a little misunderstanding."

Okay you guys! Thanks for reading!

So what is medically wrong with Brittany? What did Eleanor do to end up in the institution? Why does Eleanor recognize Alvin? What are Simon's scars from?

Reviews are helpful and very appreciated, trust me!

Until next time, over and out!

-Blythe