The Goth and His Psycho.

The Goth and His Psycho: [Chapter Three]

  Alex sat down heavily on his bed, why was everyone freaking out so much about this? It’s not like Bree would return home, to the small forgotten town she’d spent her childhood, if she were smart, she’d run in the opposite direction. She wouldn’t have come back, would she? 

  Alex sat contemplating, his brow scrunched up on his forehead. If he were Bree, he’d have gone to the nearest big city and would have tried to settle down there. But then, Bree was insane, right? She wouldn’t know what to do, but then… Alex thought, almost with suspicion, if she’d been so insane, so utterly out of it that she’d had to be put in Crickly (the name of the asylum) then how in hell had she been able to break out? 

  Crickly was one of the most secure places in the country, not only because its inhabitants were insane and deranged, but because they were murderers, every one of them intent on killing, and their mental illnesses allowed them to do so. 

  Alex gave a groan and ran his hands over his face warily. He decided to go and see what he could gather from the news. The story was bound to be big, and maybe it would offer him some form of satisfaction. 

  When he was slumped on the living room couch and the TV was on, he flicked over to the local news channel, he sat waiting impatiently as the old news reported rattled off insignificant stories. 

  After he’d sat through an agonizingly long story about the stock market and the government's latest hiccups, the screen finally cut to a younger woman, who’s usual smiling face was glum and serious. 

  “Now for the main story of the day” she gave a half hearted smile, but it was nothing like her usual one, and Alex leaned forward with anticipation, biting at his nails subconsciously. 

  “In the early hours of this morning, a patient of Crickly Hall, the hospital for the mentally insane, escaped” her voice was grave as she read from the papers in her arms, “While living at Crickly, the patient, identified as young Bree Treven, was said to have killed two of her fellow patients, and while in the act of leaving, murdered four nurses that were on night duty” she rattled off the names of Bree’s victims, all of which were male. 

  “It is thought that the murderess was injured on her way out of the institute” Alex felt his blood boil as he watched the hope leak into her eyes, wishing that this piece of information were true “Even so,” the pretty reporter continued “Treven is very dangerous and if anyone should come into contact with the girl, stay well away and call the authorities immediately. Under no circumstances try to approach the criminal” her voice had an air of finality about it as she said the last sentence. 

  Alex felt his blood run cold. Criminal? How could the girl he used to know be a criminal? If she were insane, surely it wouldn’t be her fault, right? She was ill, insane. She had no control over her actions, or so the public had been led to believe. 

  Just as Alex was thinking it, they cut to a doctor who had been residing at the institute, and he described the illnesses that Bree had been diagnosed with. Schizophrenia, bipolar disorder, depression, post traumatic stress, anxiety disorder, sleep terrors. Everything that made her dangerous, turned her into something very different from the little girl that Alex had once blushed at the thought of even talking to. But the boy wasn’t listening to the warnings on the screen anymore, he sat, eyes threatening tears, as he thought about his childhood best friend being out there somewhere, injured, lost, being hunted like an animal, when it wasn’t even her fault. 

  She was sick, but she didn’t deserve to be hated, and all Alex could think of was the way that Lucy and Chad had spoken about her, as if she were the monster that lurked under the beds of children, or how his own mother had thought her an animal, and how the reporter had hoped she was injured and hurt.