three

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“your skin
smells

like light

I think you are
the
moon.”

The next day, I accidentally slept in Mrs. Murphy's room while hearing her talk about the red tulips not going well with the white peonies. Very unprofessional of me, but Mrs. Murphy didn't wake me up so I think it was partially her fault too.

"You're cool, Lia." Jim playfully punched me on the shoulder as he dragged me out of Mrs. Murphy's room. "I've never seen any of us dozing off with one of the patients before, and that was a sight."

Us, I thought. "Can you not tell Luce about it?" I asked him, willing my cheeks and my ears and my neck to stop heating up in embarrassment. Even though I never really went red in the face, I could most definitely still feel the embarrassment. And feeling embarrassed right after waking up was unpleasant.

Jim laughed. "Sure I won't. But I think Lucy's in the security area. She must've seen you on the cameras already."

I rubbed my face, groaning a little when my ring--one of which I'd forgotten to take off earlier--scratched against my cheek. 

"Tell me, Lia, how come you and Lucy look nothing alike?" He asked as we waited for the elevator. "Cousins, I could've understood, but sisters?"

I crossed my arms and closed my eyes, refraining from swaying. I didn't like waking up so early. Especially when I had slept so late the previous night.

"Do you want a day off? You can take a nap in the office if you want." He passed me a sympathetic look, almost as if he understood my pain. Maybe he did. "I can keep a watch out for you."

That was astonishingly sweet of him and I almost agreed too. But at the very end I shook my head. I was here to work. Work. And besides, everytime I thought about sleeping, whether it be last night or right now, a small part of me couldn't help but think about him. The boy in room 221.

I can't sleep, he had said. But why?

"Hey, Jim?" I spoke up as we entered the empty elevator. "Who's the patient in room 221?"

I tried ignoring the funny look he gave me at that question. "Not like you don't already know."

"I...don't."

"Don't you?"

I slumped against one corner of the elevator and exhaled heavily, waiting for it to reach the office. Maybe I should've taken him up on that offer he mentioned earlier. Sleep while he kept a watch out for me. Because a headache was slowly forming behind my eyes and I knew it wouldn't go away until I got some sleep.

"Griffin Hawthorne's son, that's who he is." Jim eventually replied. "Except that I'm not supposed to give out that information so easily."

I frowned at him. "It's fine. I work here too."

"I know." He passed me a knowing smile. "Why do you want to know about him?" I merely shrugged, so he added, "As far as I know, he's under Lucy's care."

"He is?" 

Jim nodded at that.

"But...he couldn't sleep last night," I murmured with the same frown. I don't know why that little incident wasn't settling well with me. Maybe it had something to do with the way he had looked at me. There had been hope in his eyes. Helplessness.

"I'm sure things are under control. Don't worry about it." He waved it off nonchalantly, just like Luce had done last night.

When we reached the office, there was no one inside. I found that reassuring for some reason. The fewer the people, the more it felt easier to be myself. That's exactly why it took me less than a few minutes to change my mind (again) and doze off on one of the comfy staff chairs. Jim was kind enough to keep a watch for any other incoming staff, letting me sleep, but not kind enough to wake me up when Luce dropped by.

I was still peacefully sleeping when a pair of voices woke me up. Luce's and Jim's.

"...it's not strange. That much is expected from anyone who tries to commit suicide, Jim." That was probably Luce, though I was still too drowsy to completely recognize the voice. "What's absurd is how the parents are reacting. The press too."

There was a loud shuffle, like papers being scattered, and I slowly stretched out my arms when a yawn slipped out of my lips.

"Yeah, well, what else do you expect? It's the Hawthornes." That was Jim.

A beat of silence followed and I sat up, trying to rub off the sleep from my eyes. Once my vision caught up to the small office, I looked over at the both of them.

"Tiring day?" Luce asked me with a small, tired grin. I tried smiling back but it wasn't really my thing right after waking up, so I stuck with another yawn.

"I kept a watch out for you, Lia. You owe me." Jim reminded me. He seemed busy doing something on one of the electronic screens, with a bunch of papers in his hands.

I leaned back on the chair and frowned a little. 

"Who were you guys just talking about?" I wasn't really a fan of talking right after waking up either, but something about the seriousness in Luce's voice that I heard earlier made me curious to know more.

"Just one of the patients." She shrugged it off.

"Oh."

Then she narrowed her eyes at me. "You said that he talked to you yesterday." And she said it with this surety, like she was certain that I must be lying. Why would I be lying?

"He?" I straightened up a little, even though I knew who she was talking about.

"Alastair James Hawthorne," Jim stated.

"Alas--what?" I whispered, then said the very next thing that came to me. "That's a fancy name."

Jim cracked a smile before nodding along. "I know, right. Why wasn't I named like that?"

"I'm sure you wouldn't want to be named like that," I murmured, even when something about the name struck out to me. Alastair.

Luce sighed and shook her head. She wasn't smiling. "Did you, Lia? Did you talk to him?"

"Yeah," I answered truthfully. "I asked him why he wasn't sleeping and he told me that he couldn't. That's all." 

I pushed back a dark strand of my hair away from my face, somehow gone loose from my ponytail. That's the only thing I hated about my shoulder-length hair. But I couldn't complain, not when I was the one who decided to get them cut in the first place.

I glanced up when I felt both of them staring at me. Jim seemed surprised. Luce seemed lost in thought.

Then Jim opened his mouth. "Really? And he talked back like, decently?"

Decently, I thought. He'd just said a few words.

"It's not...It's not like it can't be possible." Luce spoke up when I didn't say anything. "Perhaps he just needs time."

"But it's time that we don't have." Jim lowered his voice, glancing at Luce.

I nibbled on the inside of my lip anxiously. What were they talking about? If I asked, I realized, they might not tell me.

Luce must've seen the look on my face. "He doesn't really talk at all, Lia. I've tried several times. The aides too. He hasn't really...said much since he was sent here, not even to his mother."

I found myself saying the next few words way quicker than I should've. "You can't force him." And then I realized that it was a little stupid of me to say that, so I added, "I mean, you'll just have to wait. Right?"

Luce shook her head. "We can't wait. They want him to...get back in the head. As soon as possible." 

That's fucked up, I wanted to say.

"You can't just force someone to be fine, Luce," I whispered, and I was incredibly thankful for Jim having my back. 

"She's right."

"I know guys. God, I'm not saying that you're wrong, but having the Hawthornes at my back and over the entire hospital constantly is such a pain in the ass." She said, sounding a whole lot frustrated than a moment ago.

"I mean, you're right too." Jim shrugged. "We might just have to talk with the authorities about this matter. Maybe they'll know how to keep them away for a while."

"Jim," Luce spoke out, shaking her head. "Half of the Hawthornes are the authorities."

I tried not to show the surprise on my face. "So...they are rich?"

Luce huffed, leaning back. She seemed exhausted and I felt bad for her, for whatever that was stressing her out. She'd seemed tired even last night. Maybe this Hawthorne thing really was getting to her. 

"They're huge within the whole of this city, Lia. Especially this town. It's scary."

"And...what happened to Alastair?" I asked her.

"He ended up in a psych ward," She said. I had to avoid staring at her when I realized that she had failed to fully answer my question. Maybe she did that on purpose, and that just made me feel a little stupid to ask it in the first place.

Why did he end up here?

"Oh," I said--the only word I knew in such situations.

Luce blew out a long sigh. Then she looked at me and I saw this expectant glint in her eyes. "Will you try talking to him again?"

I looked back at her uneasily. I wanted to say no. I wanted to tell her that it wasn't fair. But what wasn't fair? And why would he talk to me when he wasn't talking to anyone else? Why was I here? Why had I even left my home and come here to England in the first place?

God, not right now. I didn't need this, all this unravelling right now.

So I nodded and forced a smile on my face. "Sure."

Luce gave me a tired smile in response. "If this works out, Lia..." She left it at that.

If this works out.

°°°°°

Oak Valley Town in the evening was dazzling. Not like I didn't find it beautiful in the mornings. This town was just beautiful in every way--unlike my hometown.

Being here and having the change of scenery around me, I didn't find it in myself to miss home. There was this faint nostalgic feeling in the pit of my stomach, but that was all there was. I did miss home a little. I phoned my mum in the mornings, or sometimes she called me first. And our talks were usually always the same. Short and simple.

And that was fine with me.

I wasn't here, a whole state away, to sulk over my family problems. I was here to avoid them, at least for some time.

The trees here in Camberley were the most beautiful. Splashes of reds and oranges and yellows--it was beautiful.

Walking over a layer of fallen leaves, I found myself picking up the yellow ones and gathering them in my hands. As I cautiously stuffed them in my coat pockets, I wondered what Luce would think when I reach her apartment with my pockets full of dead leaves.

I guess that's what I shared with Mum; the love for nature (minus the insects part. ugh). Mum didn't really like dead, fallen leaves so I'm pretty sure she wouldn't have appreciated what I was doing right now either. But then again, dead leaves were so much better than planting new ones. They always ended up dead under my care, which was ironic since my mother had a whole flower shop of hers.

Sucks to be me, I guess.

It was the path of those fallen leaves that led me to a rink at the further end of downtown. It was an indoor ice rink, which was probably why it didn't click fast. As I entered the tall glass doors, I barely got a glance at the silver logo on the top before it got left behind.

My gaze flickered to the huge ice rink then and it was crowded with children. Perhaps an ice skating lesson? It was cold in here but lesser than outside. I breathed out a little in relief.

Even though it hadn't snowed yet in Oak Valley, I really hoped it would before I had to leave back for home. I'd been jealous when Luce had talked about snow over our phone calls. It never snowed back at home.

"Hello. Are you here to skate?"

I turned around and found myself facing the bar counter at one end of the rink. A ginger girl wearing a dark blue employee tee smiled at me politely, waiting for an answer.

"Um, no." And then I realized that I probably should've greeted her back with a hello. I didn't want her to think of me as some rude stranger. 

"Actually, I don't really know how to skate. So...I was just going to sit there and watch." I pointed over to the line of bleachers before passing her a small smile.

She smiled back and nodded. "Sure."

I wasted no time and headed for the empty bleachers around the other corner. There was only one other person sitting on the second row--a girl--all alone. I quietly made my way to the fourth row, trying to keep a noticeable distance between us.

It took me a while to relax and I was actually glad that there were not many people in here. The few kids were cheerfully skating on the ice (at least more than I could manage) and I found it satisfying to hear the sounds of their laughter and the blades scraping along the ice.

I wanted to skate too. I've always wanted to, but it would've been embarrassing if I fell. And I knew I would. Maybe I could ask Luce to come here with me one day and maybe we both could skate together then.

I'm sure she didn't know how to skate either.

Sadly, Luce was too busy at the hospital most of the time, and it bummed me out a little. But I tried not to show it. She didn't owe me her time. It had been my choice to come here and it wasn't like things between us had always been so close either.

Running my tongue over my slightly chapped lips, I propped my elbows on my knees and looked around the ice rink once again. My eyes flew over to the girl sitting alone below me. She was still in the same position, her black hair falling down her shoulders and her milk-white skin seeming almost pale. Even though I could only see her back, I concluded that she was pretty.

But then I noticed the way her shoulders were drooping and the way she was clutching her long black coat in her arms, looking down at it rather than anything around her. It was strange. She looked sad.

Was she crying?

I almost felt guilty for staring and then I started feeling even guiltier for not approaching her, maybe even ask her if everything was all right? But a part of me wondered whether she'd appreciate that or not. I stuck with the latter and stayed where I was.

I saw her slowly wiping the bottom of her eyes with the back of her hand, her sniffles barely audible. I opened my mouth to say something but shut it close the very next second.

I was forced to look away when she stood up, picking her coat as well, before starting to walk away. She didn't bother to glance around, not even once.

Not until she was out of the exit doors that I looked back to where she had been sitting before. The spot was empty, obviously, but I managed to spot a small piece of paper lying there. Or at least that's what I thought it was until I was standing over it, inspecting it closely. 

When I picked it up though, I noticed it was a newspaper article. A bit torn but perfectly looking like the ones in the newspapers I often spotted around in the office back at the sanitarium.

It was dated two days ago.

And the first three words that I read were a bit too familiar.

Alastair James Hawthorne.


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