Escape (Ezria)

1. Rosewood never leaves you

'So, why do you do it?' Eddie asked me, genuinely and nice. 'Well, to be honest, I was in a place like this myself once' I sighed. I didn't want anyone besides Eddie to hear it, maybe I didn't even want him to hear it. I expected a judgey look, but Eddie didn't give me one. 'Don't worry about it Aria, I will keep it a secret' he said. I stopped walking. Secret. The word flew through my head, I felt a shiver. 'Aria.. are you coming?' Eddie asked, but it wasn't a question. 'sure' I responded and I shook the shiver off. We walked into the day-room of Radley Sanitarium. The tables and chairs were in a classroom set-up. There were ten patients that showed up. They were wearing white robes and slippers. All with their initials on them. There were supposed to be eleven patients though, they had told me that one guy was having an episode right now so they kept him in his room. Where they were probably stuffing him with medication right now, I assumed.. this second. The rest of the patients probably didn't like English, or writing at all. Eddie led me to the front of the classroom where he spoke first; 'Alright, ladies and gentlemen. This is Aria Montgomery, a published author! We are so thrilled to have her teach you all about writing and literature.' He said excited, I started blushing. It was my first class since I published my first book. It was my first time back in rosewood since I published it to be exact. I had spent most of my time in LA doing meet-ups with fans, photography and publishing 3 other books. 'But first, we would like to do an introducing-round, who wants to go first?' Eddie asked, he had told me how this was supposed to go and I was fine with it. I picked up a chalk and wrote my name on the blackboard, Aria.. 'I know you want to go first, you were so thrilled to have her here! You told me you were a big fan, come on.. Ezra!' Montgomery. I dropped the chalk at the sound of that name. I turned around. My heart was beating fast. 'Holy crap..' I uttered as the clock stopped ticking. Two seats from the back, next to the window sat a cute guy, curly dark brown hair and an enchanting smile. Ezra. And it so happened to be that I hooked up with him last night at a bar. He told me he was 20, he was 17. He told me he majored in English, he was still in high school. He told me he liked my work and he did in fact. And he now was my student, in a mental hospital, to be exact.

'but then Lolita starts to have her own will, and the story turns around, and oh the nurse is waving at me which means time's up.' I say as I put down Vladimir Nobokov's masterpiece. 'oh, and don't forget to hand in your stories on Tuesday and if you want me to read anything of yours I will!' I shouted, so the patients who were already in the corridor could hear me. One student was still sitting in his chair. The nurses were whispering. But in this building you could hear whispers all the time, like the leaves of the trees in a warm summerbreeze. That would make a good poem. Ezra got up. I gazed at him deadly, if he even dared to come up to me.. he walked towards me. I wanted to vanish into thin air as quickly as possible. I looked into his blue eyes. I was still here, I hadn't vanished. His eyes seemed old, wise and broken. Something I didn't see last night when he kissed me, when he touched my hair. 'look.. I'm so sorry for lying to you.' He said, his hands were shaking. 'oh I'm sure you are' I said, my voice was cold. 'but I just never felt like this about someone before' 'and you don't know what to do about it' I finished his sentence. Ezra's eyes lit up, hope lingered through them. 'it doesn't have to end.' 'yes it does, I am your teacher now Ezra, and you are a mental patient!' I hissed. The hope disappeared from his eyes and I felt a pain in my stomach. 'I have to go' I said. Other patients were already strolling into the day-room. I picked up my bag, and walked out without looking at Ezra again. I just couldn't. Was I in love? yes. Yes for god's sake I was so in love. Every second of teaching that class I just wanted to look in his eyes, and see them looking back at me like he did the night before. I hadn't been able to stop thinking about him. I was up all night, starting this lovestory on my computer. Maybe my next book would be one that wasn't about creepy dolls and creepy stalkers, people getting locked up into giant dollhouses. Maybe my next book wasn't going to be traumatic, was it? I was so pumped about it, and I didn't even start with a prologue. It didn't start with someone's best friend going missing, it didn't start with someone getting chased in the woods. No, it started with a 21 year-old drop-out and a 20 year old non drop-out in a bar, late at night, feeling a little, tiny spark. But would I ever tell him he stole my heart? Would he ever know hat when I left that bar that night, I felt the best I had in months? No, for god's sake. No. What would have been the point of it anyway?