Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 59448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 297(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 198(@300wpm)
“No!” I repeat, using my feet to kick him away. I want it on. I need to have it on if I’m out here, doesn’t he understand this. Where is the doctor? He’ll tell him.
“Leave him alone!” Luna yells at Jim. My eyes don’t only widen but bulge at her outburst. She’s so small and sweet looking that the anger in her voice was unpredictable.
“Luna, you stay out of this!” He points at her.
Abruptly, she stands up, the chair falling back onto the floor, her arms stiffening straight and screams at the top of her lungs.
The two men taking their attention off me and toward her. She doesn’t even take a breath as her blood-curdling pitch takes over the room. She’s lost it, gone crazy as everyone stares at her with hard judgment. I, on the other hand, think I’m in love. She’s the right amount of insane. Jim grabs her by the arms, and the other guy that was walking around the place takes her by the feet, she squirms and jerks, biting at their hands as they take her away, the room falling in a deafening silence.
I swallow, the heart beating in my chest matching the butterflies in my stomach. Who knew my first crush would be in a mental hospital?
Sitting in the corner, my eyes looking at her drawing she left behind. The sunflower that is hung over with a sense of depression, the sky behind it dark and unfriendly as petals fall to their death on the thirsty looking dirt. Is this how she feels inside? I can relate on certain days, my insides matching the dying flower.
A boy with a shaved head, tray in his hand, comes to the table. His eyes naturally wide and round. He shoves a fork full of meatloaf into his mouth, some of it falling onto his gray shirt.
“What did you do to lunatic?” He chuckles, proud of himself for the pun. I glare in reply. The overwhelming feeling of unhappiness circling in my chest. Is it sadness or anger though?
“Her name is Luna,” I growl under my breath. Turning my head, I hope he gets the hint and goes away. I don’t want to be bothered by him.
“Yeah, well, she doesn’t talk to anyone, so don’t waste your time trying to make friends,” he continues, swiping Luna’s tray from the table and heading back to the couch with the other insane kids. I don’t know if it’s what he said, or maybe it’s just his face, but my nostrils are flaring with rage. Maybe it’s because Jim took Luna away, but I want to hurt someone. I feel the need to release justice on this fat fuck who took Luna’s dinner.
The jacket suddenly feeling heavy, smothering me, has me sweating. I want to jab that plastic fork into his fat neck for making fun of Luna, for taking her food, for thinking he’s better than her.
Angry and wanting to lash out, I stand and stomp over to the kid standing in front of the TV. My chest rising and lowering with my harsh breathing, I stare at the fat kid who sits in the middle of the couch, a chip on his shoulder.
“Move!” he demands, fork in his palm, he gestures me to step away with a wave of his hand. The other kids just watch with nervous stares. This guy must be the bully of the bunch, the rest just followers.
“Why did you call Luna that?” I demand.
“Luna Wild?” a small girl that looks like she’s been starving herself asks, she’s sitting on the floor, her clothes looking way too big on her boney body. Her hair is balding from lack of nutrition. She smiles up at me with decaying teeth.
“Yes, Luna Wild.” I glare back at meatloaf boy.
“She killed her parents, she’s a fucking lunatic; a freakshow. If she’s talking to you, then you’re just like her. Crazy,” he garbles and laughs, stuffing his face with the last of the sloppy meat.
It’s okay to hurt him, he’s wrong, he’s bad and needs to be reminded he’s not better than anyone else. Grinding my teeth, arms restrained, I jerk my foot up and slam it into his face just as he slips the fork into his mouth. Everyone screams, one kid laughing, another singing at the top of her lungs as a way of coping from the chaos. Bully kid chokes, spitting out pieces of white bloody fork bits, his tray falling to the floor.
I laugh, the sound of my own voice sounding foreign, like a villain in a scary movie. Just as I take another step toward the kid, something sharp slips into my butt-cheek, and I jerk around finding Nurse Sissy stabbing me with a needle.
“You bitch!” I slur just as I fall into her arms, the heavy feeling of guilt sets in my chest. Maybe I went too far? I should have minded my own business. I open my mouth to explain myself but I slip into a deep sleep.