'God,' I huffed as I slowly sat up from the small barred bed with a plastic, uncomfortable mattress, my frail, pale hand immediately moving to hold my lower back, 'Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-' I whisper to myself in pain, my blue-grey eyes squeezing shut as I do so.
'Maddy!' A voice called from across the boys dorm. At the moment, the dorm was filled with light coming through the windows, making the white, plain room that's filled with small beds like mine brighter then ever, 'You're finally awake, huh?"
I opened my eyes again, glancing to where the voice came from. It was George Alexander, another fellow "patient" stuck in this prison for so-called sick people. George, I and many others stayed at 'Annuanciata's Home' which used to be a catholic boarding school in the 1800s before becoming an asylum around the 1940s founded by the Anderson family and has been a legacy to run this place since. Georgie here has long, crumpled and untamed, long, black hair that reaches down to his waist. He has a lanky body, unlike my muscle-less body, but large arms. George has deep brown eyes and a golden skin tone. His nice posture is brought out through his hospital gown... We aren't allowed to change or leave, 'What time is it?' I asked, my voice raspy from the sleep.
'It is seven-thousand-eight-hun--'
George is caught off by Persephone Afton cutting him off by giving him a gentle slap on the arm, 'Don't be mean; he just woke up, you jerk,' She said to him. Persephone was dating George... Such a pretty girl dating an ugly boy. Persephone had light blonde hair and pale skin much like me but instead with green eyes, mine are blue. 'Sephone always seemed to have more bruises everyday, yet she would never speak or want to openly talk about them although mostly everyone knew it was her amnesia. She was ashamed of something she wasn't able to control, 'It's three o'clock, Madison,' the blonde woman smiled at me.
'Bloody hell,' I muttered.
'Oi there, mate, going all brit on us already?' George mocked my British accent, jokingly.
I'm the only one in this asylum with a British accent. Some patients are fluent in French and English but everyone else has an American accent. I rolled my eyes, 'Where's Terry?'
Terry is the head Anderson at the moment. Terry is middle-aged with short, white hair. Most of the woman's wrinkles are made up around her eyes and on her neck, her brown eyes drooping and her olive skin folding. Terry's personality is bipolar. She's either the most innocent old lady or the devil.
'Why Terry?' Georgie asks.
'She'll give me medicine?'
'Medicine??' George shook his head in disbelief, 'You mean the pills that make you weaker than ever?'
My nose scrunches up. Although I'd hate to admit it, the treatment I was getting was making me weaker by the day. We were supposed to be getting healthier here but instead we were being poisoned with no way to prove it... No way out, 'I-- I'm leaving,' I sigh as I stood up, joints cracking all over my body as I cringe in pain. I glance at the other two worried teens on the room before limping out of it, my frail hand twisting the doorknob and pulling the heavy door open, as soon as I leave the room, I gag. A malodorous smell fills the air of the hallway. I shake my head as I walk against the wall of the hallway and around to the stairs.
Slowly limping down the stairs to the first floor, I notice a silent cry nearby. It's a child's cry and only one child lives in this prison with all these adults and teenagers double the kids size. Esther Montgomery is a 9-year-old girl who was diagnosed with schizophrenia, although everyone, even Terry who diagnosed her knows that she's only an imaginative child. Esther has short, dull, black hair and is tall for her age. Her hazel eyes bring out her sienna skin tone.
'Esther?' I gently call as I make it to the bottom of the stairs.
The crying immediately stops, only heavy breathing is audible.
My frail body turned the corner to see the little girl curled up in a ball in between the two doors to the visiting room. I frown, stepping over to her and kneeling in front of her, 'Hey? What's wrong, Esther?'
'I-- I had to say goodbye to Owen...' The child whispered, her voice unsettling weak.
'Your friend? Why?'
'Because... he said I'm dying..' She whispers, slowly looking around for any of her other imaginary friends.
I pull a face of confusion, 'You're not d--' I started before I noticed her eyes close before she does limp. My eyes widen with concern, 'Esther?! What happened?' I panicked. With no response from the girl, I picked her up with everything in me and ran her upstairs, back into the boys' dorm.
The heavy door was closed. I thought for a moment before simply setting Esther down and pushing the door open before picking her back up again. I rushed her inside, setting the bleeding girl on the nearest bed.
George stood, 'What did you do? Stab her?!'
'She's not bleeding!' I yell at George as I force him and 'Sephone to help me.
Esther's breathing was slow and shallow, her state scaring all of us. Persephone ran out of the dorms, pleading for help while me and George try to keep her with us. We took turns giving CPR when her breathing stopped.. and with no success, I saw George breakdown into tears for the first time.
Persephone had grabbed another patient but by the time she came back, it was no use.
Next week was the girls funeral. Esther was unmercifully thrown into her casket and placed in the courtyard.
Terry was the only one smiling at the funeral.
We're in danger.