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This thread is a direct sequel to "Turned in".
The teenager got up at seven o'clock and discovered that he was going to be bored out of his mind for the rest of his stay. The mental ward had a single room that doubled as a bedroom and living quarters. The patients had a bathroom at their disposal where they could excrete and have a shower. But that was it. Poor sods had a pile of magazines to peruse. Luckily, the mind numbing boredom was halted by the arrival of the nurse with breakfast and pills. The teenager had lost the willingness to fight back or resist as soon as he stepped into the hospital and was turned in by his parents. And so, he took the pills and glass of water and proceeded to eat the meal: a bowl of chicken soup with the nastiest floaters imaginable. The teenager had to fight back the gag reflex as he used the spoon to slurp the soup. He had to keep composure as he was surrounded by other people who wouldn't appreciate him vomiting the soup. Still, act and all, he cringed whenever he got a taste of the awful floaters that had hit his tongue for an instant.
I suppose it is time to introduce the other patients in the ward at the time. A black haired woman of gypsy ethnicity that screamed for no apparent reason every once in a while, a nondescript white man who was short and bumbled as he walked owing to his crippled leg and an Eastern European woman that wore her blond hair in dreadlocks.
Even if the teenager had an asocial demeanor, there were only so many tabloid articles he could stand to endure before he felt the need to interact with the other people in the ward, and that's what he did. The gypsy was in her 40s and completely mentally unstable, so he left her alone to her thoughts. Yuck, old women.
Our protagonist talked to the white man first.
"Hello, my name is Sebastian, what's your name?"
"I'm Carlos" the cripple replied.
"What are you doing here?"
"Oh you know, I got in a fight with my parents, I have nowhere to stay now and I caused some ruckus and got here. What about you?"
"Whoa, that's a funny coincidence. I'm here because I attempted to kill my father."
"So that's where the cuts in your hand come from."
"Yes, I had a machete and I cut myself with it."
The conversation dried up after that.
Sebastian noticed that the woman of Slavic ethnicity was addressed in English by the doctors. That was odd because the story took place in Spain. Fuck! I forgot to say that all along. I'm sorry, dear reader. Anyways, only Sebastian could get through to her among the patients due to the language barrier. The gypsy was too busy fighting her inner demons to remember her English lessons and the white guy's grasp on the language was tenuous at best, Sebastian judged as he struggled to reply to the blonde's inquiry during breakfast.
She approached Sebastian to talk and greeted him.
"Hi. I'm Lita, what brought you here?"
"Hello, I'm Sebastian, I cut my hand and had an anxiety attack."
"That's bad, are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm OK right now."
The exchange of words was cut short by the arrival of Sebastian's parents. He excused himself and went to talk to them.
"Are you OK?" asked Sebastian's mother.
"Yeah, I'm fine." the teenager replied.
"Are you OK OK?" his father chimed in.
"Yes, I am."
"You look tired."
"It's just that I couldn't sleep."
"You can ask for sleeping pills in here, this is a hospital."
"OK, will do."
"We brought you some of your stuff. Here's your pajamas and a book."
"Thanks."
Sebastian took a look at his red pajamas with grey stripes and remembered that they were way more comfortable than the stupid prison rags they give to the patients in the ward. As for the book, his parents had randomly picked a pretty good read, Rimasy leyendas byGustavo Adolfo Bécquer, a book he had only read once for school.
"Were those your parents?" Lita asked Sebastian some minutes after their departure from the ward.
"Yes, they were."
"They look like good people".
Sebastian nodded.
"Indeed they are."
"I like your pajamas, they're vibrant."
Sebastian received the compliment even though it was a weird one in his eyes.
"Thank you. I like them as well."
Sebastian was so insanely bored, he had to resort to reading again, even though he would have liked to browse YouTube better. But phones are not allowed in the mental ward. He flicked through the pages of his book until he got to one of the poems. It talked of an abandoned harp. He was enthralled by the poem. He thought of himself as an artist, even though he was studying IT in post HS voluntary education afterbombing college. His feverish imagination almost didn't let him process that Lita got close and asked him what he was reading. He replied:
"A book of poems."
"Can I have it?"
"It's in Spanish."
"I can read Spanish well."
And so Sebastian lent her his book. She sat down on the "bed" that was next to the one Sebastian was in. Our protagonist had to stare off into the void again.
The following day, Sebastian sought Lita out. She appreciated his gesture of lending her the book and asked if she could read some more of it. Sebastian obliged. They began to talk about things I don't remember. The topic of family came up somehow. Sebastian opined:
"Family can be shit sometimes."
"Yeah" Lita said in a sad tone.
She cried silently so as to not make a scene. Sebastian didn't prod on the issue, nor did he leave her alone to stew in her own misery. He instead decided to take the bull by the horns and he beckoned her and kissed her.
Two days later, Sebastian heard his doorbell ring. It was Lita. She was wearing a black leather jacket, a weed reference white T shirt, torn jeans and black boots. Sebastian opened the door and she entered. She remarked how it was quite the spacious house for what it seemed outside. Sebastian took the compliment gracefully. They had the whole house to themselves after all. That's not what happened though. My name is Sebastian and the whole story is based on real events up until the part where Lita cried. I left her alone to cry in the mental ward because I'm stupid and I am Asperger's and I'm above all else, a coward.
Too afraid of her snaking my kiss. Too afraid of her pushing me back. Too afraid of her saying I sexually assaulted her after the fact. I tried to come up with all the reasons it didn't work out, and they didn't convince me at all. Because if I had manned up, if I had gone for that kiss, maybe I wouldn't have jerked off thinking about Lita two months ago. Maybe I could have had her, continued my career, tried my hand at living like a normal human being. But that lost chance is never coming back.
The teenager got up at seven o'clock and discovered that he was going to be bored out of his mind for the rest of his stay. The mental ward had a single room that doubled as a bedroom and living quarters. The patients had a bathroom at their disposal where they could excrete and have a shower. But that was it. Poor sods had a pile of magazines to peruse. Luckily, the mind numbing boredom was halted by the arrival of the nurse with breakfast and pills. The teenager had lost the willingness to fight back or resist as soon as he stepped into the hospital and was turned in by his parents. And so, he took the pills and glass of water and proceeded to eat the meal: a bowl of chicken soup with the nastiest floaters imaginable. The teenager had to fight back the gag reflex as he used the spoon to slurp the soup. He had to keep composure as he was surrounded by other people who wouldn't appreciate him vomiting the soup. Still, act and all, he cringed whenever he got a taste of the awful floaters that had hit his tongue for an instant.
I suppose it is time to introduce the other patients in the ward at the time. A black haired woman of gypsy ethnicity that screamed for no apparent reason every once in a while, a nondescript white man who was short and bumbled as he walked owing to his crippled leg and an Eastern European woman that wore her blond hair in dreadlocks.
Even if the teenager had an asocial demeanor, there were only so many tabloid articles he could stand to endure before he felt the need to interact with the other people in the ward, and that's what he did. The gypsy was in her 40s and completely mentally unstable, so he left her alone to her thoughts. Yuck, old women.
Our protagonist talked to the white man first.
"Hello, my name is Sebastian, what's your name?"
"I'm Carlos" the cripple replied.
"What are you doing here?"
"Oh you know, I got in a fight with my parents, I have nowhere to stay now and I caused some ruckus and got here. What about you?"
"Whoa, that's a funny coincidence. I'm here because I attempted to kill my father."
"So that's where the cuts in your hand come from."
"Yes, I had a machete and I cut myself with it."
The conversation dried up after that.
Sebastian noticed that the woman of Slavic ethnicity was addressed in English by the doctors. That was odd because the story took place in Spain. Fuck! I forgot to say that all along. I'm sorry, dear reader. Anyways, only Sebastian could get through to her among the patients due to the language barrier. The gypsy was too busy fighting her inner demons to remember her English lessons and the white guy's grasp on the language was tenuous at best, Sebastian judged as he struggled to reply to the blonde's inquiry during breakfast.
She approached Sebastian to talk and greeted him.
"Hi. I'm Lita, what brought you here?"
"Hello, I'm Sebastian, I cut my hand and had an anxiety attack."
"That's bad, are you alright?"
"Yeah, I'm OK right now."
The exchange of words was cut short by the arrival of Sebastian's parents. He excused himself and went to talk to them.
"Are you OK?" asked Sebastian's mother.
"Yeah, I'm fine." the teenager replied.
"Are you OK OK?" his father chimed in.
"Yes, I am."
"You look tired."
"It's just that I couldn't sleep."
"You can ask for sleeping pills in here, this is a hospital."
"OK, will do."
"We brought you some of your stuff. Here's your pajamas and a book."
"Thanks."
Sebastian took a look at his red pajamas with grey stripes and remembered that they were way more comfortable than the stupid prison rags they give to the patients in the ward. As for the book, his parents had randomly picked a pretty good read, Rimasy leyendas byGustavo Adolfo Bécquer, a book he had only read once for school.
"Were those your parents?" Lita asked Sebastian some minutes after their departure from the ward.
"Yes, they were."
"They look like good people".
Sebastian nodded.
"Indeed they are."
"I like your pajamas, they're vibrant."
Sebastian received the compliment even though it was a weird one in his eyes.
"Thank you. I like them as well."
Sebastian was so insanely bored, he had to resort to reading again, even though he would have liked to browse YouTube better. But phones are not allowed in the mental ward. He flicked through the pages of his book until he got to one of the poems. It talked of an abandoned harp. He was enthralled by the poem. He thought of himself as an artist, even though he was studying IT in post HS voluntary education afterbombing college. His feverish imagination almost didn't let him process that Lita got close and asked him what he was reading. He replied:
"A book of poems."
"Can I have it?"
"It's in Spanish."
"I can read Spanish well."
And so Sebastian lent her his book. She sat down on the "bed" that was next to the one Sebastian was in. Our protagonist had to stare off into the void again.
The following day, Sebastian sought Lita out. She appreciated his gesture of lending her the book and asked if she could read some more of it. Sebastian obliged. They began to talk about things I don't remember. The topic of family came up somehow. Sebastian opined:
"Family can be shit sometimes."
"Yeah" Lita said in a sad tone.
She cried silently so as to not make a scene. Sebastian didn't prod on the issue, nor did he leave her alone to stew in her own misery. He instead decided to take the bull by the horns and he beckoned her and kissed her.
Two days later, Sebastian heard his doorbell ring. It was Lita. She was wearing a black leather jacket, a weed reference white T shirt, torn jeans and black boots. Sebastian opened the door and she entered. She remarked how it was quite the spacious house for what it seemed outside. Sebastian took the compliment gracefully. They had the whole house to themselves after all. That's not what happened though. My name is Sebastian and the whole story is based on real events up until the part where Lita cried. I left her alone to cry in the mental ward because I'm stupid and I am Asperger's and I'm above all else, a coward.
Too afraid of her snaking my kiss. Too afraid of her pushing me back. Too afraid of her saying I sexually assaulted her after the fact. I tried to come up with all the reasons it didn't work out, and they didn't convince me at all. Because if I had manned up, if I had gone for that kiss, maybe I wouldn't have jerked off thinking about Lita two months ago. Maybe I could have had her, continued my career, tried my hand at living like a normal human being. But that lost chance is never coming back.
