The knock comes at the door for the third time. I am contemplating whether to actually open the door or not. I walk to the door. Knowing the rhythm and timing, they are probably going to knock again. However, they don't, and it stops.
Maybe I was off about the timing.
“…m-me” a voice answers. The voice has a childlike tone to it.
“…me?” I answer. Is this person really playing that game? His tone does not sound very sarcastic.
“s- Sorry.” The voice utters an apology.
I’m still unsure to why he replied the way he did.
Maybe he doesn’t know how to word his thoughts correctly.
“For what?” I utter. What could this person feel that he needs to apologize for? I haven’t even met anyone here yet…
“H-hey… you still there or what?” I call out. The voices go silent. There is no way of telling if he left or is still standing by. I leaned in against the door, pressing my ear against the rusty metal door. There is nothing, the sound of nothing, although I like to consider that the sound of air molecules occupying empty space.
There are a sudden number of clicks that occupies my ears, I think it's coming from outside but I'm not sure. The door suddenly leans forth, I bounce back as a strange feeling jolts through me, making me feel a sense of caution. The door creaks wide open. Looking back at my prison-closed window, it's still dark, but the halls are dimly lit with the addition of some lights flickering. I did not considered if I should explore or not; I just went. Because apparently, the halls have more light then my current room right now…
I go off into the halls, my feet lightly echoing throughout the halls. The area has a creepy factor as if it is abandoned; I try to calm myself. I soon continue my walk. I soon walk upon a large play area with tables and railing… it seems like a place for the patients to hand out and associate with each other.
“I guess when it comes down to it even the most hell like of places can become a paradise. Sharing similar interest rather it be something wholesome or twisted… and hearts rather warm or cold… a heart is still a heart and thus can become numb or sensational is all up to the host” I uttered one of my philosophies to myself. A song averts my ears; it was like a child singing something as if it was from their own childhood.
“We were so interesting
He wanted to see what could we be
Had he took a piece of me
And now we can’t go home…
Home of the beginning where we belong.
Give it back, give it back,
No,no you can’t have that
It’s mine and hers, how dare you take that
In time in time, oh just you wait
It will be then that i take it all again”
The song, voiced by what seemed to be a child, sounds like something from a music box and yet unfinished. I step forth into the moment of silence as broken glass breaks even more beneath my feet. The silence stands only a moment long as I wander aimlessly to where this song is coming from.
A voice suddenly squeals.
“A-are you here to hurt me?” A child's voice calls out to my right side. My head turns to find a child leaning against the pillar. He doesn't look in any particular direction, as if the concept of sight is pointless.
I feel rather nervous, but only for a moment. I forget what he has asked. As I stumble over, his appearance becomes more and more clear.
He wears a cloak, his hair messy and white. His face is mostly covered with something red - kind of looks like a type of dry face paint…
I wave my hand in front of him but get no response.
“Ah, hello, can you hear me?” I call out. His head upward, and mouth slightly opened, but there is no reply in terms of words.
“I hear… but see nothing… “ he answers so suddenly; he seems rather nervous of his situation even now.
“Well, that’s probably because your hair's in the way.” I suggest. I soon attempt to move his hair out of the way. But he grabs onto my wrist.
“No, no, not my eyes please," he pleads. I don’t understand what's so concerning to him that he would want to keep his eyes hidden.
“Is there something wrong with your eyes” I reply. Perhaps he's self conscious about how his eyes look, or maybe he's blind, or worse, he doesn’t have any.
Hehe, well, probably not that, but something irrational perhaps. Possibly something that affects those around him more then himself. There is a moment of silence; perhaps he's in thought but without seeing the expression within his eyes I can’t make a full, proper guess of his expression.
The boy turns his head to the side as…
He doesn’t want to talk about it, as it seems, so I bother him about the situation no longer.
“Alright, here’s a different question. What are you doing here?” He begins facing me once again; perhaps he can answer this question, or at least try to answer it.
“I… am… lost?” The boy speaks, but the way he says it is as if he's unsure if that's the right way to put it. I look around the area, as for as long as we’ve been here chatting, no one has seemed to bother to show up.
“Alright, come with me?” I ask as I pull on his arm. In reaction, he grips my arm, pulling in the opposite direction.
“W-wait… a-are you staff?” he utters. Staff? Does he mean the people who work in the asylum? The way he's leaning, though, it seems that he's afraid of the staff. Maybe he’s not lost, but trying to avoid them. I'm still unsure myself.
“Well are you?” he repeats himself.
“No, I'm like you,” I answer.
“Like me? Where will you take me then?”
“ My room.”
“Number? Uh 3-3-5.”
After I tell him that, he grabs onto me even stronger, as if there's some horror twist to the answer I gave him.
“Show me” he utters.
I drag him by the hand as we head back. Not too long on the way back, he requests something of me.
“May I ride your shoulders?” he utters. I look back at him; seeing his size, he'll probably be heavy. But I can probably still do it if I try. But I don’t really feel like it. I continue walking, looking forward.
“Maybe next time. You're kind of big,” I reply.
“oh… well, how about now?” he utters. I'm not sure why he asked again. Nothing has really changed. I turn back to him.
“ no, you're still to bi-” i stop part way, as I notice his size has decreased..
“What the hell happened to you?”
“You said I was too big, so I became small.”
“I get that, but how?”
He gives no reply. He just raises his hands up to me.
Maybe it's a trick.
I grab onto his body, lifting him up.
I soon discover that not only has his size decreased, but his weight has decreased as well. It was as if he actually became younger. He looks like a 2 year old now.
He stops raising his hands and plants them on my shoulders as I ponder the illusion to this transformation.
I don’t have time to think it over, though, on the account that I'm probably not even supposed to be here, and furthermore, I hope I'm not being watched handling this child.
I know what people will think. They'll probably call me a pedophile. In this world, people have the sense to say “be friendly to others”, while at the same time it's frowned upon to show such friendliness to anyone younger.
The very notion seems stupid to me.
I place the boy on my shoulders; he holds on tight, his legs hugging my neck region while his arms wrap around my forehead. As secure as he was, I didn’t feel the need to hold on to him with my own hands for support.
We start to head back.
In a strange way, it kinda feels like I've adopted a child of my own.