[back-dated: NYE/NYD]
You're hurt, and you start thinking that maybe you were wrong. You're hurt and you start thinking that maybe everyone else was right. He locked your door, and you got caught. He locked your door and you got hurt. And you hurt.
And it hurts.
You try to protect him anyway, and it makes you laugh. The frustration on their faces when you pretend he wasn't even there. That it was just you and Harvey and John. The anger in their eyes when they move you to another room. Away from windows. Away from the outside. The look in your own eyes when you see the bruises from the ride from hell. The cuts. The stitches. Scars. Will you have scars?
And it hurts.
And you start to think that maybe you should tell the truth. Maybe you should help. Maybe you need help. And you're lonely. You're lonely because you're actually alone. There are doctors and nurses and a guard, but you're alone. There's no one to give things to, no one who will give you things in return. No magic. No games. No paper flowers.
And it hurts.
But then, you see him. Not in person, that would be ridiculous. On the television. On new year's eve. There's a skeleton crew of a medical staff on this floor, and the guard isn't one you've seen before. He's older, middle-aged and friendless. You can tell. He's the kind of guy who doesn't have any reason not to work on new year's eve. You can tell. But you see him, on the television. And it makes you laugh. It makes you laugh. Because it's something. It's something special.
And that hurts too.
And the guard peeks in. And you smile at him. And he smiles back, and you don't like it. You don't like that at all. But you smile some more, and you ask him if he's lonely. Because you're lonely. You're lonely, if he gets your meaning.
And he doesn't.
But he does.
And he undoes your handcuff from the rail. Your chains. The last bit of rope keeping you tethered. Sane. And he touches you, or at least he tries to. But you're smarter. You're not stronger, not really, but you're smarter and you're faster.
And you're smiling and you're choking him. Metal pressing against his throat, handcuffs pressured against his trachea and you pull. And you laugh.
And you laugh.
And it hurts.
And he's gone.
And you're gone.