Chapter Two: Breaking Curfew Is The Prerequisite for Delinquency
Morgan woke with a start. He was drenched with sweat to the point that his mock hospital gown was damp, but he was so cold… He shivered and curled into himself on the hard bed. He didn’t remember anything beyond taking his medicine, but he knew it must have been bad. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have felt so terrible.
“Xaphan,” Morgan said, wiping at his sweaty forehead, “What did you do?”
“I did nothing,” Xaphan said, none too convincing. “I only relived a few of my finer moments. I could give you a recap—”
“Don’t you dare.”
“What are you going to do?” Xaphan laughed. Luckily, though, he let Morgan have this moment, his laughter fading into the background as Morgan pulled himself to a sitting position and cast a cursory glance across the room.
One good thing about being considered a threat to others was that Morgan didn’t share a room. He still stood firmly by the fact that he hadn’t actually harmed any of his hostages—only scared them a little—but he wasn’t going to complain that he was left to his own devices come night.
And it was especially handy because the guards, having believed him to be out of order for the night, hadn’t even bothered to lock his door. If someone else had shared the room with him, Morgan doubted that would have been the case.
“Where are you going?” Xaphan asked, reminding Morgan that there was nowhere to go. Even if he left his room, he was still encased by these brick walls. There was no escape until they chose to release you.
“Well, I can’t just sit here,” Morgan said decisively.
“You’re going to get caught,” Xaphan practically sang.
“So? I’m crazy, right? This seems like the sort of thing crazy people do.”
“Who are you trying to convince?”
Morgan flopped back onto the bed. “Okay, so it’s a shit idea. But what else am I supposed to do? They left the door unlocked.”
“Go back to sleep.”
“I’m not tired.” After a moment, Morgan stood up. “I’m doing it.”
“They’re going to confine you,” Xaphan murmured sweetly. “Then it will be just you and me.”
“It’s already just us,” Morgan returned, batting his sweat-soaked hair away from his face. He had very little desire to sit in a sparse room with only Xaphan to keep him company. At least if he were sleeping, he could dream about better times.
Morgan only opened the door enough to slip through the crack, and then he closed it quietly behind him. The hall was dark, lit only by dim light bulbs placed sparingly across the walls. It really seemed like he’d stepped directly into one of those creepy apocalypse films. Or even a ghost story set in an abandoned asylum.
Someone somewhere far off screamed. Loudly. Morgan jumped and looked around. It hadn’t seemed to come from this wing, at least; this was where they kept everyone who had been deemed “a threat to others.” Opposite this wing was solitary, and below it were those deemed “a threat to themselves.” Opposite that wing was the correction facility, which every patient visited at least weekly if not more so; there resided the psychologists, as well as (if rumors were to be believed) an operating room. The ground floor housed other patients, many self-submitted, as well as the nurse’s centre and the receptionist and the like.
Well, Morgan supposed that the most exciting thing to do would be to head to the correction facility. And on the plus side, that was the place likely to have the fewest guards, and there would be no fellow patients to sell him out.
Morgan tiptoed down the hall, passing by dozens of heavy doors with sturdy glass windows, until he reached the centre of the building, where the flight of stairs was.
“Why would you go toward the surgical rooms?”
“What, afraid I’ll get them to cut you out?” Morgan said, stepping lightly down the stairs. He reached the landing and paused. He heard… someone else was walking on this floor. Morgan peered out from the archway to see a stocky man in white lazily patrolling the hall. Shit. He hadn’t considered the possibility of meeting a guard on his way there.
“Oh, this is beautiful,” Xaphan said with a laugh at Morgan’s misfortune.
“Shut up,” Morgan hissed.
Without a glance his way, the security guard continued walking, heading into the correction facility wing. Morgan exhaled slowly. That could have ended badly. Morgan peered down the hall again to see the guard disappear into a room.
Just then, another scream erupted, and this time, Morgan could tell where it was coming from; it was just down the hall, where the guard had come from. Morgan had to see what was up. Sure, loud, sudden noises weren’t abnormal in a mental institution, but this didn’t sound like your run-of-the-mill crazy guy shouting in the middle of the night. It was pure, raw terror and pain, and Morgan wanted to see what had caused it.
“Now you’re running toward the blood-curdling screams,” Xaphan whispered. “I thought you were sane.”
“Yeah, well, no one else does,” Morgan replied quietly, searching for the source of the scream. It was definitely male, and it had definitely come from this wing. Morgan mentally reviewed the layout; this was where the self-harmers were kept.
“Perhaps he’s succeeding. It really is none of your business.”
“Shut up.” As he continued down the hall, he could hear sobs from some of the other rooms. He’d expected this wing to be much quieter, in all honesty; he figured the ones suffering from depression wouldn’t make much noise. Apparently he’d been wrong about something somewhere along the line. “Now, where is he?”
“Who?”
“Stop playing dumb. You heard him,” Morgan said as he began peeking into rooms.
“What does it matter?”
Morgan paused. “Are you… afraid? Of him?”
Morgan didn’t listen for a response, because another scream resounded, shaking him to the core, and he bolted down the hallway. It was farther down, but not much… He stopped suddenly and started looking through more windows. It had to be around here somewhere.
And then he found the room he was looking for. A boy about his age was backing himself into a corner, staring at something invisible with terrified eyes.
“That’s him,” Morgan said, jiggling the handle. It was locked, of course; he didn’t know why he’d bothered. But he couldn’t just leave him… He let out another scream, and Morgan looked around, worried. He hoped everyone else was used to his noise; he didn’t particularly want to get caught because this guy attracted too much attention.
But how was he going to help? He didn’t exactly have a key. But as he let out another pained scream, Morgan couldn’t help himself. He jiggled the handle again, but of course, doors don’t magically unlock.
The jiggle, though, caught his attention. He looked to the window with wide green eyes, his body trembling.
Morgan raised a hand to the glass, trying to show that he wasn’t there to harm him, although he didn’t think he communicated the message very well; the guy only continued to stare at him. Morgan started to drop his hand—obviously whatever he’d assumed would happen wasn’t going to—but then the guy took a step forward, acknowledgment dawning in his eyes.
Help, he mouthed. Morgan’s face twisted into a guilty one; he couldn’t. Not only did he not know how, but he couldn’t get in to see the guy. Unless…
“Xaphan, I don’t suppose you know where I could find a bobby pin.”
The doors were held shut by two locks: a deadbolt and your normal, everyday locks. All the deadbolt required was turning a knob; simple and easy enough to take care of. In fact, it was the stupid “normal” lock that was causing the issue here. However, it wasn’t especially complicated, and if Morgan just had the right tool…
Xaphan, of course, wasn’t being helpful. Morgan hadn’t really expected more assistance, but he’d at least expected a response. Instead, he was playing the silent game. Didn’t bother Morgan as much as it could have; after all, at least he’d shut up for a moment.
“Hey!” Morgan nearly jumped out of his skin at the sudden shout. He turned to see a man—the security guard he’d seen earlier—running at him. Not jogging, full-on running. What did he think this was, a track meet?
Out of instinct, and maybe possibly a hint of self-preservation, Morgan turned tail and began to run himself.
However, the security guard had a lot more time to pick up speed, and he was truthfully much more in shape than Morgan. In five seconds, he’d already caught up.
His broad shoulder slammed into Morgan’s back, and the momentum forced Morgan forward and to the ground. He grunted on impact, feeling his knee crash against the hard linoleum floor before the side of his face met it. His ear throbbed strongly and painfully, but he didn’t have much time to focus on that.
The man had him fully pinned, and he wasn’t even using both hands. Despite all of Morgan’s struggling, he wasn’t going anywhere.
A sudden, sharp prick to his thigh caused him to jerk. More medicine…
He lifted his head to see the face of the screaming male. He looked so sad…
“I’m sorry,” Morgan managed weakly before the medicine rendered him unconscious.
