chimerical

(*)

definition: unreal, imaginary, visionary, wildly fanciful, highly unrealistic. in other words, the very definition of any form of relationship he has ever had.

{trees touch windows,

say their hellos}

as far as anyone was concerned, he was sick.

trudy had called it a 'personal day'. but that 'personal day' turned into a 'personal week' and after a while, he figures, they just forgot he was even there.

it had been eleven days.

the morning of the twelfth, mara confronts him. knocking softly on the door at first, but then realizing that this was jerome, who no matter how sick will continue to be stubborn, decided to walk in instead.

the room looked the same, for the most part. alfie was spending an abnormal amount of time with fabian and patricia and the vacant bed in the corner showed evidence. mara thinks that alfie and mick are going to switch rooms, which could be why jerome is so upset. but mick doesn't really like jerome right now, so that's pretty much out of the question.

she hopes it happens though. for her boyfriend and her best friend to become friends. she shakes her head as she dares herself to call jerome her best friend. amber's still kind of holding a grudge because of the mick situation. and patricia, like alfie, is spending all of her time with fabian and nina. and only person she could really connect with was jerome.

mick. she meant mick. at least, she thinks she means mick.

"what do you want?" she hears, snapping her back into reality.

"i just wanted to make sure you were okay,"

"yeah, well, i'm fine."

"you don't seem like it." she says. he turns away from her, and she can't help but feel guilty. guilty for what, she doesn't know, but she's determined to make things right.

she sits down on the corner of his bed, gently rubbing circles on his back. he inhales sharply, tensing up at her touch. the silence between them makes everything even more difficult. she knows that she should leave, she just can't.

"why am i so goddamn awful?" he whispers softly in a tone she has never heard him use, not even when talking about his parents.

"you aren't awful."

"you don't know anything. you, and the voices, the others, you don't know anything."

she waits before she says anything else. he's right though, she doesn't know anything. she's got a little bit of information, from the time they spent when mick was away, but other than that she has no idea what goes on in the boy's head. she wants to know why he's been locked in here for the past twelve days, why he won't look at her, or why he thinks he's so awful.

the tree outside his window taps it a couple times as the wind blows. it looks as if it were going to break, crack, snap at any given moment. tall and thin, blowing aimlessly through the wind. nowhere to go, nowhere to really be. just blowing, waiting for the moment the wind will be too strong and knock it over, to snap it in two.

"would you like to talk about it jerome?"

This will be a multi-chapter piece, which I do hope I'll finish, so stay on the look out.

On that note, have a nice day, please review, do your homework, and all that jazz.