Chapter 13: Nobody Said Loving Him Was Going To Be Easy

 

There are bad things in life. There are bad things and then there are bad things.

There is a fucking camera in my fucking room.

This is one of those bad things I speak of. No, in fact it is one of those very bad things that I thought only existed in movies.

She is watching me.

The fucking bitch is spying on me. I cannot fucking believe I didn’t see that fucking camera for so fucking long.

I’m so fucking angry I could punch a wall. Yes, that angry.

This is one of those moments where I am glad I never jacked off in my bed.

Next time I see Markman I will make sure she knows exactly what I think about this whole spying thing. Fucking Christ, I get dressed in here. I will never be able to look at her again if she’s seen me naked.

I glared up at the offending piece of technology. I wonder if she’s watching me right now. Narrowing my eyes suspiciously at the lens, I stood up and made my way to breakfast. I was determined to confront Markman about this as soon as possible. Fucking bitch, no one spies on me.

I stormed into the cafeteria and up to the food counter. As I poured out some disgusting unidentified cereal that was probably packed with an astronomical amount of sugar, I resisted the urge to throw it all over the floor. Even though I was treated very leniently by the staff in this hell hole I knew that Ben wouldn’t hesitate in making me pick up every single little flake. I didn’t want to waste time crawling around the floor. I needed to finish my food quickly and then find Satan.

I slammed my bowl of cereal down onto my table and took a tiny amount of satisfaction in the amount of mess I made. I didn’t care. Someone else would clean it up. This whole spying thing has put me in a shitty mood. Maybe I should insult someone. That could help to improve my mood.

I scanned the room for potential victims. As per usual my ‘built-in Frank homing device’ activated and the first person I laid eyes upon was Frank. I really need to find a manual on how to disable this stupid thing. Frank was sitting with his new best friends: Bob, Ray and Adam. I didn’t know where Bert was. I haven’t seen him in a while. But besides, I couldn’t insult any of them when Frank was around. It was obvious that Frank’s opinion of me was akin to that of seaweed and I didn’t want to be downgraded to pond algae anytime soon. So, they were off-limits.

I could probably say something to Ben or Zach but they rarely ever reacted to my insults or sarcasm. I don’t think they get paid enough to indulge me by reacting. That didn’t leave me with very many options. Fuck.

I shovelled three spoonfuls of cereal into my mouth in quick succession so my cheeks were bulging. As I chewed I glanced up and saw Frank glance my way. We made eye contact and the corners of the mouth twitched, like he was trying not to smile. It cheered me up significantly. I didn’t care that he was probably smiling at my immaturity. He was smiling. At me, no less.

I wonder if I should go over there? Does Frank smiling at me mean he’s not angry with me anymore? Yes.

No.

I should. Maybe I should apologise?

No.

Yes.

Fucking hell, Gerard, make up your mind.

Ok, no, I won’t go over there. I won’t move. Not a good idea. No.

I sighed and refocused my attention on the cereal. It was definitely new and I had been wrong about it before. It was practically sugarless. It must be some new ‘healthy’ cereal because it tastes like little, cut up circles of cardboard. It was probably Markman’s idea to change the cereal. I knew I could rely on her to make our lives miserable, one cereal flake at a time.

Even though, at the time, I half believed her when she said she gave a shit about me, I’d since been forced to change my opinion. She doesn’t give a shit about me. She doesn’t trust me. She put a camera in my room. She thinks I’m going to be getting up to mischief in there and she can’t bear to not know what I’m doing.

I’m going to ignore the fact that, technically speaking, I did do something I shouldn’t have in that room. Three nights ago I was lying in the darkness of my room and a wave of guilt swept over me. It was guilt over how I kissed Frank. It didn’t matter that he requested it. I was supposed to have said no. That must be why he didn’t fight for me. If he cared about me the way I did about him he would’ve told me I was being stupid and that Jasper isn’t the boss of me. But he didn’t.

Therefore I have come to the conclusion that I am better off without him. That’s why I’m not going to go over to him and apologise. You can’t try to be friends with someone if they don’t feel about you the same way you feel about them. So here I am, alone again. Just the way I should’ve stayed.

Frank didn’t glance at me again. I didn’t care.

Ok, yes, I did care, but I’m learning not to.

As Frank and his new friends left their tables to sit outside, I purposely turned my back on them and stared down the corridor that lead to Markman’s office. Surely she would surface soon.

Half an hour later I was still staring at that corridor. Satan had still not risen. I sighed and adjusted my legs to a more comfortable position.

“What are you doing?” Ben asked suspiciously and stood next to me. He bent over to my eye level and peered down the corridor.

Without moving my eyes from the passage I replied, “Nothing.”

Ben straightened up and frowned at me. Well, I think he frowned at me. I wasn’t quite sure; I hadn’t moved my eyes from the corridor.

“Gerard?” he said reproachfully.

I sighed again and took a moment to rub my eyes. “Waiting,” I informed him.

“For who?”

“For Jesus,” I snapped. “Who do you think?”

Ben took a step back and studied me. “Are you being serious?”

I was tempted to say I was, but I decided to be sensible. “Of course I’m not being serious. I’m not mad.”

I knew that Ben was tempted to argue with me on that last point but he didn’t. He remained very professional.

“I’m waiting for Markman,” I informed him.

“Doctor Markman,” Ben corrected. “But don’t bother, she’s not here.”

I tore my eyes away from the corridor. “What?!” I exclaimed angrily. “But I need to speak with her. It’s urgent!”

“You may speak to Dr. Leto instead….” Ben trailed off as I made a disgusted noise at the alternative he was offering.

“I’d rather eat nails,” I muttered and set my head down on the table.

Ben gathered that the conversation was over and left, leaving me alone in the large cafeteria. I cannot believe that she is not here. I swear she plans it. Bad things always happen when she’s not around. Dr. Leto seems to attract bad things.

Maybe she’s purposely avoiding me. Maybe she knows that I discovered the camera and she doesn’t want to have to face my wrath. I can be pretty intimidating when I’m angry. I must’ve learnt that from Jasper. Speaking of Jasper, he seems to have disappeared again. I’m not complaining though. I hate him.

I’m becoming more and more convinced that he’s just a hallucination. Not that I’d ever admit that to Markman. It just fits. I’ll never be fully convinced however, because that would mean I’d have to admit I was crazy. And I’m not crazy. Nope. Ray is crazy. Me? No, I just have minor hallucinations and that can be caused by anything.

Hell, I could have a brain tumour. That would explain a lot. It would explain why Markman is so fascinated with CT scans of my brain. I must remember to speak to her about that as well; if I ever see her again.

My self-diagnosing was interrupted by the noisy and attention-grabbing arrival of Bert into the cafeteria. He was babbling wildly about something; I couldn’t discern what though. I did notice that he seemed rather panicked about something. I glanced up at him and followed his erratic movements across the room, mildly worried at how he was acting. He finally came to a stop in front of my table. He was trembling as he pointed his finger at me accusingly.

“You!” he snarled and spat at me.

That is so fucking disgusting. I smacked the table with my hands as I leapt to my feet. “You got something to say to me, Bert!?” I snarled back, taking a menacing step toward him.

Bert scurried backwards several paces. “You told him where I was. You said you wouldn’t! I’ll get you back for this!” he cried.

Okay, now I was confused. I raised an eyebrow and remained silent. Bert bared his teeth at me like a wild animal and darted towards the double doors that lead to the courtyard.

“What’s the only thing cold little Gerard cares about?” Bert yelled and ran away into the garden.

I didn’t understand what he was talking about until I saw who he was approaching. I swear, if he lays a finger on Frank I’ll break his neck. I dashed outside and over to where Bert was accosting Frank; curling my right hand into a fist as I got closer.

“We’re all going to die!” Bert was screaming at Frank. “And it’s all your precious little Gerard’s fault. You made him like this. He wasn’t going to tell! But you made him tell! It’s your fault too!”

Frank was taking wary steps backwards as Bert screamed in his face. “Bert, please calm down,” he said assertively. “It’s not my fault.”

“You bet it is, you filthy faggot,” Bert spat just as I drew up behind him.

Hurt and shame flooded Frank’s face and he dropped his eyes to the grass, mortified and humiliated. That made me mad. So mad I wanted to hurt Bert so bad. I wanted him to feel the pain he’d caused Frank with his cruel comments. All the anger from this morning when I’d found out that Markman was spying on me reared up inside. I know I said I was so angry I wanted to punch a wall; but I took more delight in the thought of punching Bert’s face.

“Oi, fucker,” I snapped and raised my right hand.

Bert turned to confront me but he never made it because I slammed my fist into the side of his face with all the force and anger I could muster. His head snapped to the side and he fell heavily to his knees, his hands clutching his face. A few moments passed and nobody moved. I glanced at Frank but he was staring at Bert, his face white. Just when I thought it was over, Bert shakily regained his feet and took a step toward me, spitting out blood as he did. I didn’t move. I didn’t want him to think I was just going to run away from him. He stopped and pointed at the tree to my right.

“His children are here. He’ll be here soon. I hope he eats you first,” he said, his voice thick and with blood dribbling from his mouth.

I made the mistake at glancing to my right and frowning at the tiny lizard perched innocently on the trunk of the tree. Just as I took my eyes off Bert, he lunged at me. I toppled over backwards and landed with a bone-rattling thump on the hard ground under the tree. Within a second of landing on the ground, Bert was on top of me, exerting his revenge on my poor face. In the space of four seconds, Bert managed to slam his fist into the side of face three times in very quick succession. It made me suspect that he had previous experience in beating someone up.

I’ve never been punched before in my life and I never realised how much it hurt. The pain was fierce. It felt like a rogue freight train had smashed into my face. The amount of force Bert managed to put behind his fist was incredible. Every blow sent my face snapping to the side and I was struggling to draw in a single breath. It was at this moment when I regretted punching Bert first. If I had known he was capable of pulverising my face I probably would’ve thought twice about defending Frank in such a way.

It took another two blows to my lower jaw before my vision went funny. Bright lights seemed to explode in front of my eyes and I couldn’t see. Sometime in that period of blindness I felt Bert’s weight disappear from my stomach. I blinked rapidly and saw that Bob and Ray had physically lifted Bert off me and they were struggling to restrain him from jumping onto me again.

“Is that all you got?” I mocked, turning my head to the side and letting the blood dribble out.

Big mistake.

Bert launched back towards me, ripping his arms from Bob’s and Ray’s grasp. He winded me when he landed on my stomach and I hadn’t had a chance to take a breath before his slimy, blood-covered hands seized my exposed throat. The panic welled up almost immediately as I realised that I couldn’t breathe at all. I couldn’t even swallow. I raised my hands and grabbed his wrists, attempting to drag them away from my throat. That was when I felt really scared. I didn’t understand how he was managing to overpower me. My legs kicked out unproductively and didn’t seem to disturb Bert at all.

I couldn’t even estimate how long Bert had been choking me for. I just know it seemed like an hour before three orderlies grabbed Bert and pinned him to the ground. I sucked in the air greedily and gingerly clutched my throat. My mouth was still filled with blood and I rolled over onto my stomach to let it drain out onto the grass. I felt around my mouth with my tongue tenderly, hoping to God that I still had all my teeth. Luckily I felt no new hollows in my gums. Thank fuck for that.

I did have a massive cut along the inside of my mouth, right on the left cheek; the one that Bert’s fist seemed to favour. I slowly pushed myself up into a kneeling position and hunched over, watching in fascination at the amount of blood that seemed to flowing from my nose and dripping onto the grass. It was ridiculously gross how most of it was flowing into my mouth though. Someone pushed a towel into my hand and I held it to my nose in a futile attempt to stem the flow. I don’t think my nose is broken though, thank god. It was only slightly tender to touch and it seemed to still be in position. The left side of my face, however, was throbbing already. It was a deep, gnawing throb that radiated through to my bone. It was hot to touch, which I knew indicated inflammation. It was good to know that I learnt something off those useless TV medical sitcoms I was often forced to watch.

“Gerard? Can you hear me?” It was Dr. Leto, sounding very concerned and anxious. It didn’t suit him.

“Hmmm,” I replied and opened my eyes.

“We need to get you inside. Can you stand?”

“Hmmm,” I repeated and mustered up all my energy. I clutched at the several hands that were being offered to me and let them pull me to my feet. As soon as I was on my feet my knees gave out from under me, but strong hands kept me up. I really have no clue what is going on. I think I’ll just concentrate on holding this towel to my face.

Somehow, I ended up in the infirmary, perched awkwardly on a gurney with half a dozen people buzzing around urgently. Dr. Leto took the towel away from my nose and I almost threw up as I saw the mass of congealed blood on the white material. My stomach was churning unbearably and I had a strong suspicion that it was from the blood I’d swallowed. One of the nurses, the new female one who was incredibly tall, passed me an ice pack and instructed me to hold it to my face. I was going to do everything I was told because hopefully everyone will be so concerned about me that they’ll forget to reprimand me. By everyone I mean Markman, of course. Here’s to futile hope.

Dr. Leto flashed a torch in my eyes. He frowned and flashed it again. I was worried for a second until he said, “Pupil response normal.” The tall nurse nodded and made a quick note in what I guessed was my file, before ticking a box on the sheet of paper in her hand. I tried to see what she was writing but Dr. Leto pushed me back down.

“Follow my finger, Gerard,” Dr. Leto instructed holding his finger in front of my nose. I sighed and did as I was told. Dr. Leto seemed satisfied with my response and that earned me another tick.

“Are you feeling dizzy?” he asked.

“No.”

“Do you have blurred vision?”

“No.”

“Is your hearing normal?”

“Yes.”

“Do you feel drowsy?”

“No.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“Yes,” I sighed, aggravated. I was already getting sick of the questions. “I’m fine,” I announced.

“Who am I? What’s my name?” Dr. Leto ignored my declaration and continued with the questions.

I smirked. I wanted so badly to something witty and rude but I really shouldn’t. Oh, what the hell. He deserved it.

“You’re the incompetent doctor who overdosed me on Valium,” I declared.

All the nurses stopped to look at Dr. Leto who was slowly going red. Red with anger – mind you – not from embarrassment. He glowered at me and slammed his torch down onto the table.

“He’s fine,” Dr. Leto growled and stormed from the room

“I’m fine,” I repeated and nodded reassuringly at the nurses who seemed quite amused. “Can I go now?” I had business to take care of.

The tall nurse who I swear must be a supermodel wouldn’t let me leave. She made me lie back and hold that inhumanly cold icepack against my face. The ice has caused the side of my face to go numb so I can’t feel much pain. Bonus. My nose has stopped bleeding too. Another bonus.

“Why can’t I do this somewhere else?” I inquired trying to make conversation with the supermodel.

“You need to be kept under observation,” she said, handing me a new icepack.

“But Dr. Leto said I’m fine. Really I am. No brain injury, I swear!”

“Dr. Markman says to keep you under observation until she arrives.”

My stomach twisted uncomfortably. They were going to keep me captive until she came to kill me? That’s just mean.

I guess though that it wasn’t really my place to punch Bert like that. I probably should’ve let Markman take care of it. It’s all her fault. If she hadn’t been spying on me, I wouldn’t have been angry in the first place. And if I wasn’t angry I wouldn’t have been so hasty to pummel Bert. See, her fault.

But then again, she wouldn’t have seen the look of Frank’s face. He was already ashamed of himself after what had happened; he didn’t need Bert saying shit like, “filthy faggot” to his face.

There’s nothing wrong with being a faggot. I should know.

I hope Frank’s okay. I really need to get out of here and see him. I just need to find him and tell him that he’s perfect the way he is. He is beautiful. I need to reassure him of that.

I spent the next hour thinking of ways to explain to Frank about how Bert was full of shit and how he shouldn’t be ashamed or embarrassed. In fact, I was so deep in thought that I didn’t hear the clopping of high heels until the owner of them was standing in the doorway. I swallowed as Markman observed me from the doorway. I braced myself for the yelling or the lecture but it never came. She didn’t say a word. That didn’t mean she wasn’t mad. It actually meant she was ridiculously mad. It meant she was fuming. It was surprising that steam wasn’t escaping from her ears.

Markman walked over to the counter and picked up Dr. Leto’s torch. I sat up automatically and looked at the notice on new CPR regulations pinned to the wall behind Markman. I stared at the notice and avoided all eye contact. I didn’t even look at her as I followed her finger across my line of sight. When she stepped away to look at the notes Dr. Leto had written I noticed that all the nurses had left the room. Panic rose in my throat. How could they leave me like that?!

Markman snapped my file shut and glanced up at the clock on the wall. “You have thirty seconds to explain yourself,” she ordered furiously.

I glanced at the clock too. The second hand was just passing the two. That gave me until it reached the eight to save myself from eternal damnation. Shit I just wasted three seconds. I inhaled deeply. “It wasn’t my fault,” I proclaimed. Okay, that wasn’t a complete lie; he did spit at me first.

Markman didn’t reply. She just stood there, grinding her teeth until my thirty seconds were up. I didn’t say anything else in my defence. I was already sunk.

“It is my understanding that you hit Bert first?” Markman said calmly.

“Hmmm,” I murmured, keeping my response ambiguous.

“That means you started it.” That was not a question.

Geez, what is this? Jerry Springer? I really don’t think this is a case of who started what.

“Am I correct, Gerard?”

“Yeah, well, he continued it!” I hesitated. “That’s just as bad, you know?”

“Okay,” Markman said simply.

I was shocked. No, she wasn’t supposed to just end the conversation like that. I still needed to argue my case. I decided to tell her about what Bert said.

“He called Frank a ‘filthy faggot’,” I said, feeling a little bit of anger well up. I curled my right hand into a fist and winced at the pain that shot through it.

Markman stood very still and closed her eyes for a second. “Oh,” she breathed softly.

“He didn’t tell you that, did he?” I guessed.

Markman shook her head at me. “No, he did not,” she said, weighing each word as she said it.

“I’m not saying that justifies what I did, but you have to understand, no one deserves to be called that,” I informed her.

“I know. I agree.” Markman seem to be deep in thought. She sat down and pulled my folder onto her lap. I watched as she began writing something down. I didn’t even bother trying to see what she was writing. It just wasn’t worth it right now.

I swung my legs under the gurney and suddenly remembered some of the things I needed to ask her. I decided to start lightly.

“Do I have a brain tumour?” I asked, trying – and failing – to act nonchalant.

Markman looked up at me and the look on her face alarmed me. I don’t really have a brain tumour, do I? Holy shit, maybe I do. Maybe that’s why I see Jasper. It must be inoperable. Does this mean I am going to die? I know I’ve said I’ve wanted to die in the past but I was only kidding.

“Not that I’m aware of,” Markman said eventually.

My heart rate slowed down again. “Then why do you have such an interest in my brain and keep doing scans?” I persisted.

Markman wet her lips as she thought. She seemed to be quite reluctant to answer my question. “Well,” she began and I sat forward eagerly. Was she finally going to be honest with me about something? “A few years ago you had an accident.”

I didn’t remember that. I didn’t remember a lot of things from a few years ago. “What was the accident?” I asked eagerly.

Markman took a deep breath and paused for a long moment. Finally she said, “It was just an accident.”

I made an annoyed noise in my throat. “Was it a car accident? Or a sporting accident? What was it? Tell me?!” I demanded.

“No. Do you want to know about the scans or not?” she said brusquely. I went quiet and let her continue. “You had an accident and it lead to some brain damage. We like to do regular scans to keep an eye on things. That’s all.”

That’s all? My mouth went dry and my stomach lurched. I had brain damage? I can’t have brain damage. I feel fine. I raised my free hand to hold my head. There was something wrong with my brain?! No, no, that can’t be. I have secrets in there. I can’t keep the world’s secrets in a damaged brain.

Markman stood up and came over to me. She grabbed my hand that was clawing at my skull and held it. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you,” she said regrettably.

“I have secrets in here,” I whispered wretchedly.

“I know. It’s going to be okay. You are fine. Really. I promise.”

I looked at her doubtfully. I wasn’t fine. Not even a little bit. Markman sat back down and began writing some more notes. I lay back down on the bed, still clutching the ice pack to my face. I stared at the ceiling, remembering the night when Frank had snuck in here and asked me for the first time to kiss him. That made my heart hurt, along with my head.

I spied the camera in the corner of the room and my original reason for wanting to speak to Markman flooded back into my consciousness. I sat up again and pointed my finger at Markman.

“There’s a camera in my room,” I accused.

Markman didn’t react like I’d expected her too. She didn’t even look up. “Yes,” she said absently. “There are cameras in all the rooms.”

“All the rooms?!” I repeated, horrified.

“Except the bathrooms,” she amended.

“That’s a serious breach of privacy!” I cried.

Markman looked up at me. She was confused as to what I was angry about. I’ll tell her what I’m so angry about. “You’re spying on us!” I exclaimed.

“Hardly,” she scoffed. “The footage is only examined when necessary. It’s really only used to determine the causes of disputes or accidents or other incidences.”

I huffed, annoyed that she had counteracted my argument.

Now it was Markman’s turn to sit forward. “Why are you so concerned, Gerard?” she inquired, narrowing her eyes at me.

“I’m not,” I answered automatically.

“Have you been doing things you shouldn’t have?” she persisted.

“No,” I retorted and looked away from her. I glanced back just in time to see her smile as she settled back into the chair. “Hang on,” I said suspiciously and Markman looked up innocently. “You know something?”

“No, I don’t.”

Ha! First sign of guilt is to deny the accusation. My eyes widened. “You know?”

She knew. She knew about me and Frank. I could see it. I could sense it. Holy fucking hell. I have never been more embarrassed in my life.

“Know about what?”

“About me and Frank?” I said, watching closely for her reaction.

She tried to pretend like she had no idea what I was talking about but she failed miserably. “I don’t know anything,” she lied quickly.

“How do you know?” I demanded. “You said you didn’t watch the footage! You said so!”

Markman was becoming increasingly more flustered. “I didn’t,” she insisted.

I leapt off the gurney and let the ice pack fall onto the floor as I realised. “He told you.”

Markman avoided my eye contact which was all I needed to confirm my fears. “He told you,” I repeated, shattered. It seemed that mine and Frank’s little secret wasn’t a secret at all. “Why would he do that?” I asked.

“Gerard….” Markman said awkwardly and stood up.

“Why would he tell you?” I asked the question again, determined to get an answer.

“I will not repeat anything Frank has said to me, especially not to you,” she said gently, brushing me off.

Angrily, I kicked the ice pack and sent it skidding across the tiles. I needed an answer. If Markman was going to obey those stupid doctor-patient confidentiality rules then I would confront Frank myself. I crossed the room in three long strides and pulled the door open so hard I felt like it should’ve come off its hinges. I ignored Markman’s orders to stop and marched towards the cafeteria. I stuck my head in but Frank was not at any of the tables. No matter, he was probably in his room.

I was correct, as usual. I took a moment to knock before entering. I didn’t know the full story yet, so I couldn’t be mad at Frank. Markman could’ve tortured him to get him to tell her what we’d done. Who knows?

“Oh, Gerard? Are you okay?” Frank asked immediately as soon as he saw me. He was lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. I liked to do that too. But that wasn’t the issue here.

“You told her!” I exclaimed, ignoring his question.

Frank froze, halfway off the bed. “She told you?” he whispered, horrified.

I gritted my teeth together. “She didn’t have to,” I muttered angrily. “Why would you tell her?” I was baffled. I didn’t understand why Frank would possibly want to tell something as personal as that to Markman. Now, Ray, I’d understand, but Markman?!

Frank looked upset. “You don’t understand!” he yelled at me.

“Well make me!” I yelled back.

He stood up and marched over to me. “I needed to tell someone,” he said, his voice more measured.

“Why?” I said sarcastically. “Was it that bad?”

“No, it wasn’t, actually,” he sniffed. I felt guilty now. Great, thanks, Frank.

“I thought it was supposed to be our secret. I didn’t realise we were blabbing to our therapists. Do you always kiss and tell?”

As soon as that last line left my mouth I regretted it. I knew what I was implying and it was terrible. The only other people Frank had been kissed by were scum.

“I’m sorry,” I said immediately but it was useless. Frank had already processed what I had said and he was crushed. Devastated. Betrayed. It was so obvious. I had sunk to Bert’s level.

Frank bit his bottom lip and dropped his eyes to the floor. “I felt guilty,” he said. “When you feel worthless for so long, you feel guilty every time you feel happiness. I needed someone to tell me that is was okay to feel like that. That’s all.”

“Fra –,” I began but he cut me off.

“Please leave.”

My heart was breaking into a thousand little pieces. I could feel them falling through my body; the sharp shards causing spasms of pain throughout my entire body. I took several steps backwards until I was standing just outside the room. Frank shut the door in my face. I had done it now. I had ruined us both.

My face was throbbing again and I began the long walk of shame back to the infirmary. I had only made it halfway when Bob and Ray called me. The first several times I ignored them, but they were persistent. Eventually I turned around and followed them into Ray’s room, just so they would shut up.

“What are you doing?” Ray queried.

“I’m talking to you,” I replied, wondering why I was stating the obvious.

“No. Wrong answer.”

I waited a second but he didn’t tell me what the right answer was. I turned to leave.

“Why are you walking away from him?” Bob threw his hands up in the air.

“What?” I said, genuinely confused now. I didn’t have time for this.

Ray and Bob smiled at each other and shared a look. “Should we tell him?” Ray asked.

Bob nodded; his face was the epitome of seriousness. “I think he has a right to know. The colours don’t lie.”

My eyes widened. Why was I always the one stuck with the crazy people? Why were crazy people attracted to me? Was it the way I smelled? Was it the way I did my hair? I mean, what the fuck?

Ray spent a good ten seconds scanning the room. He looked in every corner and even under the bed. I had no clue what he was searching for. In fact, I didn’t want to know. He cleared his throat like he was about to make a very important announcement. “I have a message for you,” he said in a creepy undertone.

I didn’t even bother reacting.

“We are certain it’s for you,” Bob added.

“Positive,” Ray echoed. “You see, I got my cereal this morning and it gave me a message. It was a pretty important message too. I mean, this message could make or break someone.”

Even though I was secretly ridiculing them both, I was actually interested as to what the message actually was. Sometimes, Ray comes up with some fucking awesome messages. He says things that really make you go, “Wow, how on earth did he come up with that?”

“And then we realised that it was for you,” Ray exclaimed. “You know how we know?”

“No,” I answered honestly. I had no fucking clue.

“I had three red coloured pieces and four blue coloured pieces of cereal in my bowl this morning. Bob had the same thing. It was a sign.”

Bob nodded enthusiastically. “It’s true. I counted them myself. It’s long been established that if there is a higher concentration of blue pieces than red pieces in both bowls of cereal than the message is for you. It’s as simple as that.”

My eyes widened slightly. Have I used the word ludicrous yet? Well, this whole thing was ludicrous.

“The colours don’t lie,” Ray said.

“They don’t,” Bob agreed.

I nodded slowly. “I’ve got to go,” I said. I nodded to them both and walked out the door.

“Wait, Gerard!” Ray called. “Don’t you want to know what the message was?”

I stopped and sighed. “Fine,” I muttered. “What is it?”

“Do you want to tell him?” Ray asked Bob.

Bob shook his head. “No, it’s your message. You tell him.”

Ray drew himself up to his full height. “The message,” he said dramatically. “Nobody said loving him was going to be easy.”

I almost fell over. Normally, I would ask myself whether they were being serious but I knew straight away that they were. They were being dead serious. “What?” I gasped.

“Nobody said loving him was going to be easy,” Ray repeated.

“Who told you that? Tell me,” I insisted when they exchanged glances.

“It was the cereal, Gerard,” claimed Ray.

“No, it fucking was not!” I cried. “Bowls of cereal do not give you messages like that!” This was fucking insane. Normally I was tolerant – really tolerant, in fact – of Ray’s stupid cereal messages. But this just pushed me over the edge. Bob and Ray have been judgemental of Frank’s and my relationship from the start. I can’t believe they think I was stupid enough to believe that the cereal was giving me messages. This whole cereal thing was just a way for them to disguise their real opinions.

“It was too!” defended Ray, waving his arms angrily.

“You’re fucking crazy,” I sniped.

“You’re not exactly sane either, Gerard! At least I don’t have imaginary friends,” Ray added.

Bob stepped between us and pushed us away from each other. “Who cares where the message came from,” he interjected calmly. “What matters is what the message said, right?” He looked between the two of us. “Right?”

My head was throbbing, the inside of my cheek was stinging and my wrist and knuckles were aching. I really did not want to be here, arguing over some stupid message. I already felt horrendously bad over what I had said to Frank; I didn’t need lectures on ‘loving him’ from two of the craziest people in this place. But I also didn’t need to make any more enemies. Ray might tell Frank what I had said and then it was over. Even more over than it is now.

“Sorry,” I muttered. I was sorry. It’s not exactly nice to call someone crazy – even if they are.

I looked around Ray’s room. I’ve been in here before; several times, if I remember correctly. It’s an…odd place. Odd is really the only way to describe it. I noticed that he’d moved his bed into the middle of the room again. He used to do that a lot and the orderlies were always fighting him to keep it in the corner. He did stop for a little while but it seems he’d started again. I didn’t quite understand why he had to sleep in the centre of the room. I’m not sure, but I’ve got a suspicion that it has something to do with some message he got on his very first day.

Ray’s room is always very dark. Even though the lights are on, it’s still very creepy and gloomy. There is a large black sheet over his window which eliminates a lot of light. I once asked him why he kept his room in darkness all the time. He told me that is was because, “the messages he interprets from the light against the wall are always bad.”

I smiled to myself as I recalled that conversation. That was probably the very first conversation we ever had. That was when I realised I was still the only sane person in this place. That was when I resigned myself to the loneliness. When Frank arrived I thought that maybe everything was going to change. Yet, I managed to screw up every single chance I had with him. I think my life was better when I kept my mouth shut. Maybe it’s time to stop talking again. Hmmm.

“Let’s talk about the real issue here,” Bob began and turned to me. “Why are you walking away from Frank? Why are you giving up?”

I frowned. I did not come here to be reprimanded. “He doesn’t like me anymore,” I defended.

Bob and Ray exchanged smirks. “I know you’re actually a very smart man, so I’m going to let that slide,” Ray said graciously.

“He needs someone to fight for him,” Bob informed me.

“You need to fight for him,” confirmed Ray.

That made me feel a little stupid and irritated. “Why should I fight for him when he won’t fight for me?” I asked.

“He needs someone to fight for him. He’s the one who’s all broken and hurt. You’re just lonely. He’s broken, Gerard. He needs someone to put him back together. He needs someone to fight for him. He needs to know he’s loved.” Ray kept repeating that phrase over and over again.

Fight for him.

Was that what I was supposed to do? Should I stop accepting his constant rejections and just tell him how I feel? Does that mean I’d have to admit that I loved him? I can barely say the word in my own head; how can I possible tell that to his face?

I didn’t get a chance to hear anything else Ray and Bob had to say because Markman found me. “Let’s go,” she ordered, pointing to the corridor. I obeyed and left the room without saying a further word to either of my advice givers. I accepted the icepack from Markman and followed her. “Where are we going?” I asked.

“Hospital.”

My eyes widened. “But I’m fine,” I claimed. I was fine.

“It’s just a precaution. I just want to get some tests done.”

“Scans?” I guessed.

“Yes.”

“To look at my brain tumour?” I asked. I still wasn’t convinced that I didn’t have one. Beside, I’d rather have a brain tumour than have brain damage like she claimed.

Markman looked sideways at me and half-smiled. “If you say so.”

Fight for him.

We were almost at the locked glass doors that lead into the main foyer. Once you were through this door, the world was open to you. I could see the outside already. I hadn’t been out of this place for a while and I was looking forward to the change of scenery. Markman swiped her card and typed the access code in so swiftly I missed it. All I saw her hit was the ‘enter’ button. The light went green and the lock made a soft clunking noise as it was deactivated.

“Wait,” I blurted just as I took a step through the door.

Fight for him.

“I’ll be right back,” I promised and thrust the ice pack into Markman’s hand before turning and running back towards the west wing.

Fight for him. Ray was right. No one ever said that loving him was going to be easy. This time I knew exactly what I was going to say. I was going to fight.