III

I've never had any real friends. Before I came here I was in my senior year. I was planning on graduating and heading off to college to study English. I was kind of the loser kid. All the other people at my school were pretty much all popular kids, if that's possible. No-one wanted to be friends with me. I was too cool for them anyway.

They can go fuck themselves with a cactus for all I care.

I'm me.

That's why I wasn't really so worried about moving here. I mean, this place IS a mad-house and all that, but I don't really stand out as the guy sitting alone at the lunch-table. 'Cause no-one here really talks to eachother because they're all so ''caught up in the cage of their own minds''. That's what she says anyway. We all keep to ourselves in our separate rooms. Here, we're ALL the loser kids. Which is why Madi makes me feel so special.

I've planned it all out.

It's 12.07pm right now. This means that in 23 minutes I'll be downstairs waiting for councelling. Councelling sessions last exactly 30 minutes, then it's lunch. At lunch, Madi sits in the same place as she sits for dinner. This is my chance. Every meal time, I'll slowly move seats, edging towards her, until I end up sitting right next to her. Hopefully she won't notice. She shouldn't notice. But this means we'll end up sitting together eventually, it will be completely natural and she won't suspect a thing. Hopefully.

Then we become friends.

Then we become a 'thing'.

Then we get married and have kids of our own.

Ok.

Maybe that's a bit far.

.

.

I've been waiting outside Doctor Martins office for 2.25 minutes now. Why isn't he on time?

Fucking hell.

If he takes any longer than this I'm going to have to re-arrange everything.

HURRY UP.

My palms are clamming up. My breathing's going out of time.

In.

Out.

Not done.

He's here. FINALLY.

We go inside his office and he sits behind his desk.

I choose the red padded chair.
Makes a change from all the other wooden seats around the rest of the building. You'd think in a mental house they'd at least provide us with something nice to sit on, considering the amount of money we pay to be here. A waste if you ask me.

I feel like I'm in the principal's office, for crying out loud. I'll never get used to councelling.

''How are you feeling today, Seb?''

I feel like throwing a grenade at you because of how late you were.

''Fine, I guess''

''If you don't mind me saying, you don't look fine. Now, could you tell me why you're sweating like that?''

Leave me alone. Yes I do mind.

I shrug and look at my hands. I try to make my fingers in to different animal shapes. I've always wondered why we actually need so many fingers. I mean, could we not just suffice with three? No?

''Seb. You have to let me help you''

I stay quiet.

''Okay. Tell me this. What time did you wake up this morning, Seb?''

Easy.

''6.00am. You know that.''

''Okay, and what time did you get out of bed this morning?''

He's asking questions he already knows the answer to, just like normal.

''6.30''

''On the dot?''

''Yeah''.

He writes something down in his notebook. Probably something like 'Seb is sticking to time routines. This obviously means he is SO VERY VERY SICK.'

Bullshit.

The rest of the session carried on like this. Me giving short, one-word answers as usual and him over-reacting about them.

As soon as the clock on the wall hits 1.00pm I sprint to the dining-hall, leaving my bag with Dr Martin to pick up later.

I have to get the correct seat.